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FIC: An Earlier Heaven - Charles/Erik, XMFC - (10/13)
Title: An Earlier Heaven (10/13)
Author: Regann
Pairing: Charles/Erik (XMFC)
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: ~5,100 for the chapter (total: 60,000+)
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 10)
Even if Charles had wanted to keep Jean's first birthday celebration a low-key event, the rest of his household wouldn't have allowed it, so it was just as well he had other plans. The morning of the big day dawned warm and bright and everyone quickly went to work. Hank and Darwin carried tables and chairs to the designated picnic area and laid out blankets for the kids to sit on while they filled balloons and sorted out sparkly decorations. Meanwhile, Alex and Sean drove into town to pick up the large cake Charles had ordered for the occasion, deciding it was outside of their collective skill set to bake a cake large enough to feed them all.
Jean didn't quite understand what that the hubbub was about, but she picked up on the excitement in the air. She wasn't a moody child, per se, but Charles often noticed that her moods reflected his own and he once again wondered if it was a sign of burgeoning telepathic or empathic skill. That morning, she refused to be separated from the girls who gave her their undivided attention, squealing, babbling and supplying toys for her amusement, so Charles left her with them under Piotr's watchful eye while he went back to the manor to organize the picnic fare he'd help make the evening before. He was loading the last of it into baskets when Alex and Sean appeared, Sean holding the door while Alex carefully balanced the cake in his hands.
"Any trouble?" he asked, watching as they carefully set it on the mostly empty kitchen table.
"Other than Alex getting us lost?" Sean asked. "Not a one."
Alex looked like he wanted to protest Sean's comment violently, but Charles shoved a picnic basket of food at him to forestall any such denial. "I think they're ready for this outside," he said, followed by a shooing gesture. "Don't keep them waiting."
It wasn't long after the cake's arrival that the "party," such as it was, was in full swing, which meant Charles sat by the table and guarded the food while his kids ran wild in the kind of controlled chaos he'd become accustomed to in the years since he'd brought home his first group of students. Jean wanted to be in the thick of the action even though her ambitions overstepped her ability to keep up, but she still gamely toddled along as best she could with several pairs of overprotective eyes on her at all times. Charles hid his grin behind his hand as he watched both Alex and Hank dive to stop a tumble but it was Sean that saved the day with a cushioning gust of his sonic voice that made sure Jean landed on her bottom on a blanket instead of head-first on the ground.
"Don't give yourselves heart attacks," he advised them, humor in his voice. "She's going to take a few of those before she gets her feet under her."
Despite the preparation that had went into the occasion, it was a lazy sort of day, none of them in a rush to end fun they were having. Charles felt the same way, appreciating the summer sun in a way he hadn't been able to a year before, his only signposts in mind for wrapping up the afternoon being Jean's mood and the tell-tale hints of too much sun on her delicate skin. As long as his daughter was still enjoying herself and not in danger of turning lobster-red, he was content to let the festivities fill as many hours as they liked.
Charles had let his guard down with the pleasantness of the day which meant the sudden intrusion of new minds within the vicinity of his reach was like a slap to the face, startling him out of his relaxed position. One of the minds quickly vanished as only a teleporter could, leaving two very familiar minds brushing against Charles's. The fact that one of them was Erik's was the most shocking realization of all.
In the seconds it took Charles to gain his composure, Hank noticed the few arrivals and he made a grab for Jean that she protested with an emphatic "No!" that he ignored to tuck her against his side. Alex started forward, confrontation on his mind, but Darwin laid a gentle hand on his arm which stopped him in his tracks, though he continued to watch Raven and Erik's slow progress toward Charles with hot, angry eyes.
"Charles," Raven said, bounding to Charles's side, leaving Erik to trail behind her. She was distinctly nervous, yellows eyes darting between Hank and her brother as she spoke. "I know things didn't exactly end well the last time we stopped by but we were hoping..." ...that you'd let us come see Jean and celebrate her birthday, she finished in his head."Hank mentioned it in a letter and I just thought maybe..." ...you'd give me and Erik another chance at this.
He noticed that Erik remained a safe distance from them all, his unshielded mind carefully blank. It was a change from the past when Erik's thoughts had rattled so loudly in his own head that Charles couldn't help but hear them. He wasn't in the strange robes that he'd worn the last two times they'd met since Cuba and instead was in casual civilian clothing, a light-colored polo shirt and coordinating slacks. Even his sunglasses had made a reappearance, blocking his eyes from view.
Charles remembered vividly the last painful words they'd exchanged, the anger and threats; but he also remembered the moment of weakness he'd seen pass over Erik's face, when he'd looked as anguished as Charles had felt. And there was the fact that he'd come at all and without his helmet -- a sign of compromise that Charles hadn't thought him capable of, one that made hope squeeze as painfully in Charles's chest as the love he felt for his daughter sometimes did.
"So?" Raven asked, looking more unsure of her welcome. Charles could feel the conflicted reactions in those around him, from Alex's anger to Hank's and Sean's cautious hopefulness and Darwin's anticipation, all the way down to the children who watched the strangers with various degrees of curiosity and bashfulness.
Finally, Charles reached out and took Raven's hand, watching her face light up with a smile as he squeezed it tightly. "I think there's enough cake for two more," he said, eyes drifting to Erik. Even with the sunglasses, Charles knew Erik was looking back at him.
Raven slipped her hand free of his but not before landing a kiss on his cheek with a murmured "Thanks!" in his ear. Then she turned her attention to Hank and Jean, rushing toward them with her hands outstretched. "Jean," she exclaimed, and it was comical to watch his little girl swing her head toward her aunt at the sound of her name. "Do you remember me? It's Aunt Raven!"
Charles watched Hank allow Raven to take Jean from his arms and start off toward the blanket littered with toys even as he felt Erik's presence as he slowly approached, carefully pulling out a chair on Charles's right. "Thank you, Charles," he said as he took a seat, his voice devoid of the cutting tone that had been so prevalent during their last conversation. "It means a great deal that you'd allow us to stay."
"I don't think grudges and hard feelings will help anyone," Charles said, thinking of his conversation with Darwin about fears. "Do you?"
"No," Erik agreed softly after a long moment. "Not between us."
There was another stretch of silence as Charles worked to keep his mind out of Erik's, unsure of how much he'd been allowed before it would break their tentative truce. It was enough, he told himself, that he could feel the edges of it close to him, not separated from him and replaced by the horrible blankness that resulted from the use of the helmet.
Erik was the one that broke it, clearing his throat a little before he spoke. "I assume the school is going well?" he asked. "You have four students already."
"Yes," Charles agreed. "And three more scheduled to start in the fall. It's enough that I've thought about diverting some of my time into finding another adult mutant who wants to help out. Now that Jean's a little older..."
"You've done good here," Erik stated, glancing around at the young mutants assembled before them.
"Thank you," Charles said. He raised an eyebrow, unable to stop himself from adding, "I'm sorry I can't return the compliment since I don't really know what you've been up to."
"And you likely wouldn't approve if you did," Erik returned, but there was no bitterness in it. It was almost...playful, which made Charles smile a little in spite of himself.
"You're very likely correct," he said.
It had been a busy morning, so it didn't surprise Charles that less than half an hour after Erik and Raven's arrival, Jean began to show signs of fussiness, something that left Raven a little flummoxed.
"Charles," she called, alarm in her voice. "She's getting a little cranky."
He quickly checked his wristwatch. "Ah, yes, she's late for her nap. I'll put her down for a few hours." At the comically tragic faces that garnered from the kids, he rolled his eyes. "We'll eat cake as soon as she's up from it. Honestly, the cake isn't going anywhere."
Jean was rubbing at her eyes with her fist as Alex carried her over, which probably wasn't the best idea since she'd spent a good amount of time grubbing in the grass, but Charles supposed it couldn't be helped. She settled a little once Charles had her in the cradle of his arms and Alex took it as his chance to glare at Erik up close. Erik ignored him entirely, which Charles knew only infuriated Alex more.
As Charles settled Jean securely against him so he could turn his wheelchair toward the house, Erik rose from his seat.
"Charles…" he began, trailing off even as Charles glanced up in response."Would it...could I...help?"
Alex's mental reply to that question was loud in Charles's head and he shot the young man a look. It was then that he heard the mental please that Erik had added to his question, and knew there was only one answer he could give to it. "Of course," he said, reaching down to start rolling forward.
"I'll get that," Erik volunteered, stepping up beside him. "You just hold onto her."
Charles nodded and expected to feel Erik's hands on the back of his chair, but instead there was a slight tremor in the metal around him and then he was gliding just above the ground, pacing perfectly with Erik's long strides toward the manor.
"Nice trick," he observed, noticing how much easier it was to traverse the grass under the power of Erik's abilities. Charles's susceptibility to Erik's powers because of his wheelchair was something that worried Hank a great deal whenever he retrofitted it with improvements, but for the moment it was an aid, not a weapon against him. "Very clever."
"You're hardly more difficult to move than a satellite dish," Erik said with a hint of a smile. "Or a submarine."
Erik knew the way to the nursery so there was no more need to talk as they entered the quiet halls of the house. Jean was very tired; she was already starting to nod off in Charles's arms, even without any soothing telepathic help. When they reached the nursery, Charles took a calculated risk and held her out to Erik. "Could you hold her for a moment? I need to fetch a cloth to clean her up."
There was no real words Charles could conjure up to explain the look on Erik's face as he accepted his daughter into his arms for the first time since he'd learned the truth, and Charles had never been more tempted to delve into his mind. Jean was still half-asleep, but she stirred enough to give Erik a deeply suspicious look, as if she didn't remember how well she'd took to him during his last visit, but she didn't cry or fight to get away, which Charles considered a minor victory. When he returned a few moments later with a wet washcloth, that look hadn't left Erik's face, his eyes glued to Jean as if he still couldn't believe it.
Charles hid the strange elation it stirred in him as he quickly wiped at her face and hands despite the flailing protest she waged against it before instructing Erik to settle her in the crib. Charles had never seen Erik be as careful as he was with that task, gently caressing her unruly mop of hair as she curled up, already drifting off once again.
"She's beautiful," Erik said, and Charles wasn't certain if the hushed tone was in deference to the sleeping child or because the wonder in it wouldn't let him speak any louder.
"Yes, she is," he agreed, just as soft.
Erik finally managed to tear his eyes away from her, pale blue eyes intent on Charles's as their gazes met. "Tell me about her?"
"What would like you to know?"
Erik laughed a little, but it was sad. "Everything."
"That would take a very long time," Charles smiled. "Anything in particular?"
"Is she talking yet?" he asked, still quiet as if not to wake her.
"A few words," Charles replied. "But she's rather adept at making her wishes known by impatient gestures, something I'm certain she inherited from you."
Erik laughed at that, something startling and delighted. "What was her first word?"
"Dada," Charles said, unable to resist a quick touch to her foot through the bars of the crib. "Although if you ask Sean, he'll say it was "Sean." There's also "no" and "mine," which I guess isn't all that surprising in a house full of other children."
There was so much emotion in Erik's expression, something fragile and wondrous that reminded Charles of when he'd re-given him the memory of his mother and helped him move a satellite dish with his mind. Just like with Jean, he couldn't stop himself from reaching out, brushing his fingers against the hand Erik had curled around the top of the crib.
"Come on," he said, nodding toward the door. "She'll sleep for a few hours." After Erik silently followed him back into the hall, Charles took a deep breath before he continued. "The kids will be all right by themselves, so I think I'm going to stay inside until Jean wakes up. Would you like to join me?"
It was light, but there was a brush of Erik's hand over his shoulder. "What do you have in mind?"
"It's been a very long time since I've played a game of chess," Charles said. "If you're up to it?"
He could feel Erik's power settle into the metal of his chair. "Always."
**
A week earlier, even in the wake of his conversation with Mystique, Erik had never imagined that he'd find himself where he was at that moment -- sitting in Charles's study with the man himself, a chess board between them.
It was easy to let himself pretend that this was a memory from before Cuba, back when the one thing he hadn't doubted was his relationship with Charles, assured that his friend would always be at his side as they took on the world. Erik had been wrong, of course, but it was still one of the best times in his life; with the exception of his childhood memories from before the war, there were none that were more precious to him.
Except maybe the ones he'd just made, of holding his daughter, of listening to Charles tell him about her in that soft voice of his, sharing that moment between them as only her two parents could.
Now, as they sat in an easy silence and contemplated their moves, the only thing missing from the scene was a martini glass to take Erik back to the days they'd spent at the Xavier mansion training before Cuba had ripped them apart. At the time, Erik hadn't let himself think much about the future past killing Shaw, past how sweet that last strike would be but sometimes, against his better judgment, he'd found himself doing just the opposite, imagining what it would be like to spend the rest of his life as Charles often alluded, building a new world for their fellow mutants, side by side.
"Did you know?" he heard himself ask aloud. Charles looked up from the board, eyebrows raised, so Erik elaborated, "That Hank and your sister were exchanging letters?" When he caught Charles's open gaze, he snorted. "Of course you did. I forgot who I was asking."
"I do give them their privacy, you know," Charles retorted, although there was no heat. "But yes, I knew. Hank cleared it with me before he wrote back after Raven's first letter."
Erik silently marveled that Charles had seemed to instill more compliance in his students than Erik had in his soldiers, although Erik at least knew he took a capable team into each mission. He doubted Charles could say the same.
"I'm happy to leave you with your privacy as well, my friend," Charles told him. "But you really must think less loudly when you think about me if you don't want to broadcast."
"Exactly how much have you picked up?"
"This afternoon? Just your opinion on the battle readiness of my team," Charles assured him. "But I have been actively shielding as best as I can. Though your own shielding has improved."
"A consequence of continued contact with telepaths," he murmured as he made his move, under no doubt that Charles heard him perfectly.
Charles nodded a little. "It's been a long few years."
Apart, Erik could hear as clearly as if Charles had spoken at him telepathically. The regret in his voice was similarly unmistakable. He couldn't help but agree. "Yes, it has."
There were so many things Erik could think to say in the silence between them, all of them true: I've missed you, I still want you by my side, even I'm sorry; but he wasn't sure they'd make it past his throat or, if they did, what meaning they would take on once they were said aloud. It wasn't as if anything had changed in those two years -- Charles still wanted something so different from what Erik knew they needed. For all of Mystique's talk of compromise, Erik didn't see where it could exist between them.
But there were other, more recent transgressions that Erik knew he needed to apologize for, things he'd done that, in retrospect, he knew cut Charles more deeply than the bullet once had.
"Charles," he began, sitting back in little in his seat. When Charles glanced up to meet his eyes again, Erik held the gaze, refusing to let himself look away. "I -- I want you to know I'm sorry about Emma...and Sean. It was wrong of me to ever think to do that."
Charles didn't speak for a full minute, instead watching his hand as it tightened around a captured pawn for a moment before releasing it. "It was my greatest fear come to life," he admitted. "That you'd hurt one of them."
"I didn't mean for Sean to be hurt," Erik told him truthfully. "I know it doesn't change the fact of what Emma did or that I asked it of her. I didn't think..."
"I know. That's what makes you so terrifying," Charles said. "I know that you have it within you to do so much good, but not if it's only anger that you allow yourself to respond to."
"Charles..."
He raised his hand to quiet whatever else Erik wanted to say. "I'm not trying to start a fight, Erik. Not today. But you have to understand that it's the one thing I can't allow. It's why I had planned to keep Jean from you and why I don't think I would've regretted it if I'd been successful. Because the life you've chosen, it's only going to ever be about violence and I can't let that touch them if I can help it."
Erik nodded. "I understand that and I know that I've hurt people I've cared about with my actions, actions that aren't defensible." He let his eyes linger on the shiny metal of Charles's wheelchair. "Of course, I know."
Charles's empty fingers idly stroked down the armrest, as if tracing the path of Erik's eyes. "It would've been harder for me to forgive this if it had happened to anyone else."
Erik wanted to believe what Charles's words implied. "Does that mean that I am forgiven?"
"For the bullet?" At Erik's nod, Charles's face softened. "Yes, Erik. I hadn't meant to leave you with any other impression but during your first visit...Jean was already a concern and I hadn't been prepared to see you."
"And for Sean?"
Charles's expression shuttered a little. "I wasn't sure I'd be as gracious as I've been today when next I saw you," he confessed. "But you came without your armor and I know how difficult that was for you. It wouldn't have been right to send you away in the face of that."
Coming without his helmet had been the most agonizing decision he'd made leading up to the day, even more than the decision to come at all. Charles knew him too well without the advantage of telepathy, without Erik's inner most everything laid bare to him. He knew that the others, including Mystique, thought he feared Charles's powers because Charles could bend him to his will with a glance. Erik, however, feared that Charles might finally see something there that changed his mind about ever seeing goodness in him.
Erik had barely finished the thought to himself before he felt fingers brush against his. "It hasn't," Charles told him. "I see your mistakes, Erik, but I still see you. And I still believe with everything I am that you're good, if only you'd let yourself be."
"I thought you weren't hearing my thoughts," Erik reminded him, using humor to cover the tremor in his voice.
Charles smiled, a simple uncomplicated smile, something Erik hadn't seen in a long time, outside of his memories. "You keep thinking loudly," he said, adding more quietly, "It's almost like there are some things you can't help but want me to know."
Erik was trying to decide how to respond when he noticed Charles had tilted his head a little, bringing his fingers to temple before he rolled his eyes.
"What was that?" he asked.
"Ah, just Hank, checking in on me," Charles admitted, a little sheepishly. "He and Alex, particularly, are -- overprotective." He shook his head, as if he couldn't understand the concept. "I think he wanted to make sure we hadn't escalated to bloodshed."
"Before I found out that they were playing at pen-pals, I would've asked the same about Hank and Mystique -- Raven," Erik said.
"Yes, they've had their moments in the last months," Charles agreed.
"I was surprised that Hank was writing her, given their difficulties." He vividly remembered Mystique's frustration during those few days under that roof, the way she'd ranted and raved about Hank when he'd given her the chance. He should've realized something had changed when those rants didn't follow them to their new base.
"I think it helped that Raven made the first overture," Charles said, finally making his move on the chessboard that had been stalled by their detour into serious conversation. "But Hank doesn't want to be mad at Raven. He wants to understand, I think, and he wants them to find a way to make things right between them." The way Charles made sure he caught Erik's eye as he spoke told Erik that he was talking about more than his sister and McCoy with his words.
"Things can't go back to the way it was before," Erik murmured, ducking his head to stare at the chessboard, even though the match was the furthest thing from his mind.
"I don't think you'll find someone more aware of that than Hank," Charles told him. "But there is such a thing as moving forward -- and changing the things that hold you back from that."
Even though he'd never thought he would, Erik had actually forgotten the intensity of Charles's blue eyes, struck by them now as if he hadn't spent months with their steady warmth cast in his direction. But he did remember how sometimes so much emotion showed on Charles's face that it was painful to look at, especially when it was directed at him, full of soft, pleasant feelings that made his heart stutter in his chest.
He decided a change in subject was in order. "Jean," he said.
"Is fine," Charles assured him.
"No, I..." Erik ran a hand through his hair, a nervous gesture he'd almost abandoned given the time he spent with his head encased in metal. "I hate that I've missed a whole year of her life. I do understand why," he quickly added. "But I've missed so much and it's not like I can ever get it back."
"I am sorry for that, Erik," Charles said. "If it helps, it wasn't a decision I made lightly. And it wasn't as easy as I would've liked it to be."
"And now that I know?" Erik had to ask. "How do you feel about it?"
"I won't lie and say it hasn't worried me in the last few months," Charles told him. "But I hope that you being here like this as opposed to...I hope it's a sign that I don't have to worry anymore."
"I know I...said things when I found out," he admitted slowly. "But, no, I'd never...where on earth would be better for our daughter than here, with you? "
Charles looked distinctively relieved, which made a flash of guilt hit Erik over the fact that Charles had actually worried about that very thing. "I never thought, really, I just...it's been pointed out to me on more than one occasion that I'm too quick to believe the best in people."
Erik knew he'd been the one to say so, but he didn't mind it so much when he was the one reaping the rewards of Charles's blind faith. "I still want to know everything," he told him. "Anything, everything you can think to tell me about her."
Charles leaned back in his chair a little, a measuring, speculative gleam in his eye.
"Charles?"
"I know it's not exactly the same," he began. "But I could..." He raised a hand into the air and wiggled his fingers, a gesture that Erik had long associated with the use of his telepathy. "Well, I could share. My memories of Jean. With you."
Knowing from experience how intimate it was to share memories through Charles's powers, Erik realized he was being offered more than just a chance to gain knowledge about his daughter. It was a sign of trust -- Charles was willing to give him something of himself, even more than he'd given him by tacitly allowing him to spend time with their daughter.
He couldn't imagine turning it down.
"That sounds...fine," he managed to answer. "Yes."
"Right then." Charles shifted again, his face schooling into something very contemplative. He lifted his hand toward his head, then paused. "Are you ready? Now?"
"Whenever you are," Erik told him, settling back in his own chair.
Charles nodded his acceptance and finished the gesture, laying his fingers against his temple. Where Erik watched him, he could see Charles's eyelids flutter, and then Erik didn't see anything of what was in front of him because his mind was exploding with flashes -- of scenes, of emotions, of words that echoed in his ear from somewhere inside his own head. At first they were a jumble, quite unlike the time Charles had presented him with his own buried memory, but then he could hear Charles's quiet voice guiding him through each one in sequence, slotting them into his thoughts until they were a coherent story that answered all his questions.
This was how I found out, Charles explained, and Erik saw Hank's worried blue face.
And this is what it was like to hold her for the first time, and Erik found feel Charles's emotion from that moment bleeding into his own as he looked down as Charles had at the newborn in his arms.
Then there were dozens of Jean's other firsts -- first smile, first laugh, first fever; rolling over, crawling, her first independent steps; and there were glimpses of the things in between, her daily routine through twelve months of living, fussiness and frustration, sweet moments that made every rocky one fade away.
It could've been minutes or hours before Charles pulled back from the telepathic contact, leaving Erik alone with his new knowledge. When the room finally righted itself around him and he found himself facing Charles once again, it didn't surprise Erik that there were tears in Charles's eyes. He was even less surprised that he could feel a matching wetness on his face.
"Jean's awake," Charles said, voice rough as he maneuvered around the chessboard. He paused when he was close to Erik and he reached out, using one of his thumbs to brush away a tear on Erik's face. "I'll give you a moment, yes?"
Erik didn't trust his voice, so he nodded instead.
"Come up to the nursery when you're ready," Charles said softly. "There's still cake to eat."
Erik wanted to laugh at Charles's droll parting shot but he couldn't find it in him to do so, still tremulous and shaken by what Charles had given him by sharing his memories. They hadn't come to Erik like photos in an album or images on a screen; they'd each come attached with every nuance the moments had held for Charles, every thought and feeling he associated with them. What had struck Erik about that was that every moment had been so full of love -- not just for Jean, but for him as well, a quiet background hum that never seemed to leave Charles's thoughts in those years of separation.
But more even more amazing, more earth-shattering, was the thought that had woven itself through those same memories, a coherent shape to the longing entwined around those sure, steady feelings.
I wish Erik were here.
**
End of Part 10.
Author: Regann
Pairing: Charles/Erik (XMFC)
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: ~5,100 for the chapter (total: 60,000+)
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 10)
Even if Charles had wanted to keep Jean's first birthday celebration a low-key event, the rest of his household wouldn't have allowed it, so it was just as well he had other plans. The morning of the big day dawned warm and bright and everyone quickly went to work. Hank and Darwin carried tables and chairs to the designated picnic area and laid out blankets for the kids to sit on while they filled balloons and sorted out sparkly decorations. Meanwhile, Alex and Sean drove into town to pick up the large cake Charles had ordered for the occasion, deciding it was outside of their collective skill set to bake a cake large enough to feed them all.
Jean didn't quite understand what that the hubbub was about, but she picked up on the excitement in the air. She wasn't a moody child, per se, but Charles often noticed that her moods reflected his own and he once again wondered if it was a sign of burgeoning telepathic or empathic skill. That morning, she refused to be separated from the girls who gave her their undivided attention, squealing, babbling and supplying toys for her amusement, so Charles left her with them under Piotr's watchful eye while he went back to the manor to organize the picnic fare he'd help make the evening before. He was loading the last of it into baskets when Alex and Sean appeared, Sean holding the door while Alex carefully balanced the cake in his hands.
"Any trouble?" he asked, watching as they carefully set it on the mostly empty kitchen table.
"Other than Alex getting us lost?" Sean asked. "Not a one."
Alex looked like he wanted to protest Sean's comment violently, but Charles shoved a picnic basket of food at him to forestall any such denial. "I think they're ready for this outside," he said, followed by a shooing gesture. "Don't keep them waiting."
It wasn't long after the cake's arrival that the "party," such as it was, was in full swing, which meant Charles sat by the table and guarded the food while his kids ran wild in the kind of controlled chaos he'd become accustomed to in the years since he'd brought home his first group of students. Jean wanted to be in the thick of the action even though her ambitions overstepped her ability to keep up, but she still gamely toddled along as best she could with several pairs of overprotective eyes on her at all times. Charles hid his grin behind his hand as he watched both Alex and Hank dive to stop a tumble but it was Sean that saved the day with a cushioning gust of his sonic voice that made sure Jean landed on her bottom on a blanket instead of head-first on the ground.
"Don't give yourselves heart attacks," he advised them, humor in his voice. "She's going to take a few of those before she gets her feet under her."
Despite the preparation that had went into the occasion, it was a lazy sort of day, none of them in a rush to end fun they were having. Charles felt the same way, appreciating the summer sun in a way he hadn't been able to a year before, his only signposts in mind for wrapping up the afternoon being Jean's mood and the tell-tale hints of too much sun on her delicate skin. As long as his daughter was still enjoying herself and not in danger of turning lobster-red, he was content to let the festivities fill as many hours as they liked.
Charles had let his guard down with the pleasantness of the day which meant the sudden intrusion of new minds within the vicinity of his reach was like a slap to the face, startling him out of his relaxed position. One of the minds quickly vanished as only a teleporter could, leaving two very familiar minds brushing against Charles's. The fact that one of them was Erik's was the most shocking realization of all.
In the seconds it took Charles to gain his composure, Hank noticed the few arrivals and he made a grab for Jean that she protested with an emphatic "No!" that he ignored to tuck her against his side. Alex started forward, confrontation on his mind, but Darwin laid a gentle hand on his arm which stopped him in his tracks, though he continued to watch Raven and Erik's slow progress toward Charles with hot, angry eyes.
"Charles," Raven said, bounding to Charles's side, leaving Erik to trail behind her. She was distinctly nervous, yellows eyes darting between Hank and her brother as she spoke. "I know things didn't exactly end well the last time we stopped by but we were hoping..." ...that you'd let us come see Jean and celebrate her birthday, she finished in his head."Hank mentioned it in a letter and I just thought maybe..." ...you'd give me and Erik another chance at this.
He noticed that Erik remained a safe distance from them all, his unshielded mind carefully blank. It was a change from the past when Erik's thoughts had rattled so loudly in his own head that Charles couldn't help but hear them. He wasn't in the strange robes that he'd worn the last two times they'd met since Cuba and instead was in casual civilian clothing, a light-colored polo shirt and coordinating slacks. Even his sunglasses had made a reappearance, blocking his eyes from view.
Charles remembered vividly the last painful words they'd exchanged, the anger and threats; but he also remembered the moment of weakness he'd seen pass over Erik's face, when he'd looked as anguished as Charles had felt. And there was the fact that he'd come at all and without his helmet -- a sign of compromise that Charles hadn't thought him capable of, one that made hope squeeze as painfully in Charles's chest as the love he felt for his daughter sometimes did.
"So?" Raven asked, looking more unsure of her welcome. Charles could feel the conflicted reactions in those around him, from Alex's anger to Hank's and Sean's cautious hopefulness and Darwin's anticipation, all the way down to the children who watched the strangers with various degrees of curiosity and bashfulness.
Finally, Charles reached out and took Raven's hand, watching her face light up with a smile as he squeezed it tightly. "I think there's enough cake for two more," he said, eyes drifting to Erik. Even with the sunglasses, Charles knew Erik was looking back at him.
Raven slipped her hand free of his but not before landing a kiss on his cheek with a murmured "Thanks!" in his ear. Then she turned her attention to Hank and Jean, rushing toward them with her hands outstretched. "Jean," she exclaimed, and it was comical to watch his little girl swing her head toward her aunt at the sound of her name. "Do you remember me? It's Aunt Raven!"
Charles watched Hank allow Raven to take Jean from his arms and start off toward the blanket littered with toys even as he felt Erik's presence as he slowly approached, carefully pulling out a chair on Charles's right. "Thank you, Charles," he said as he took a seat, his voice devoid of the cutting tone that had been so prevalent during their last conversation. "It means a great deal that you'd allow us to stay."
"I don't think grudges and hard feelings will help anyone," Charles said, thinking of his conversation with Darwin about fears. "Do you?"
"No," Erik agreed softly after a long moment. "Not between us."
There was another stretch of silence as Charles worked to keep his mind out of Erik's, unsure of how much he'd been allowed before it would break their tentative truce. It was enough, he told himself, that he could feel the edges of it close to him, not separated from him and replaced by the horrible blankness that resulted from the use of the helmet.
Erik was the one that broke it, clearing his throat a little before he spoke. "I assume the school is going well?" he asked. "You have four students already."
"Yes," Charles agreed. "And three more scheduled to start in the fall. It's enough that I've thought about diverting some of my time into finding another adult mutant who wants to help out. Now that Jean's a little older..."
"You've done good here," Erik stated, glancing around at the young mutants assembled before them.
"Thank you," Charles said. He raised an eyebrow, unable to stop himself from adding, "I'm sorry I can't return the compliment since I don't really know what you've been up to."
"And you likely wouldn't approve if you did," Erik returned, but there was no bitterness in it. It was almost...playful, which made Charles smile a little in spite of himself.
"You're very likely correct," he said.
It had been a busy morning, so it didn't surprise Charles that less than half an hour after Erik and Raven's arrival, Jean began to show signs of fussiness, something that left Raven a little flummoxed.
"Charles," she called, alarm in her voice. "She's getting a little cranky."
He quickly checked his wristwatch. "Ah, yes, she's late for her nap. I'll put her down for a few hours." At the comically tragic faces that garnered from the kids, he rolled his eyes. "We'll eat cake as soon as she's up from it. Honestly, the cake isn't going anywhere."
Jean was rubbing at her eyes with her fist as Alex carried her over, which probably wasn't the best idea since she'd spent a good amount of time grubbing in the grass, but Charles supposed it couldn't be helped. She settled a little once Charles had her in the cradle of his arms and Alex took it as his chance to glare at Erik up close. Erik ignored him entirely, which Charles knew only infuriated Alex more.
As Charles settled Jean securely against him so he could turn his wheelchair toward the house, Erik rose from his seat.
"Charles…" he began, trailing off even as Charles glanced up in response."Would it...could I...help?"
Alex's mental reply to that question was loud in Charles's head and he shot the young man a look. It was then that he heard the mental please that Erik had added to his question, and knew there was only one answer he could give to it. "Of course," he said, reaching down to start rolling forward.
"I'll get that," Erik volunteered, stepping up beside him. "You just hold onto her."
Charles nodded and expected to feel Erik's hands on the back of his chair, but instead there was a slight tremor in the metal around him and then he was gliding just above the ground, pacing perfectly with Erik's long strides toward the manor.
"Nice trick," he observed, noticing how much easier it was to traverse the grass under the power of Erik's abilities. Charles's susceptibility to Erik's powers because of his wheelchair was something that worried Hank a great deal whenever he retrofitted it with improvements, but for the moment it was an aid, not a weapon against him. "Very clever."
"You're hardly more difficult to move than a satellite dish," Erik said with a hint of a smile. "Or a submarine."
Erik knew the way to the nursery so there was no more need to talk as they entered the quiet halls of the house. Jean was very tired; she was already starting to nod off in Charles's arms, even without any soothing telepathic help. When they reached the nursery, Charles took a calculated risk and held her out to Erik. "Could you hold her for a moment? I need to fetch a cloth to clean her up."
There was no real words Charles could conjure up to explain the look on Erik's face as he accepted his daughter into his arms for the first time since he'd learned the truth, and Charles had never been more tempted to delve into his mind. Jean was still half-asleep, but she stirred enough to give Erik a deeply suspicious look, as if she didn't remember how well she'd took to him during his last visit, but she didn't cry or fight to get away, which Charles considered a minor victory. When he returned a few moments later with a wet washcloth, that look hadn't left Erik's face, his eyes glued to Jean as if he still couldn't believe it.
Charles hid the strange elation it stirred in him as he quickly wiped at her face and hands despite the flailing protest she waged against it before instructing Erik to settle her in the crib. Charles had never seen Erik be as careful as he was with that task, gently caressing her unruly mop of hair as she curled up, already drifting off once again.
"She's beautiful," Erik said, and Charles wasn't certain if the hushed tone was in deference to the sleeping child or because the wonder in it wouldn't let him speak any louder.
"Yes, she is," he agreed, just as soft.
Erik finally managed to tear his eyes away from her, pale blue eyes intent on Charles's as their gazes met. "Tell me about her?"
"What would like you to know?"
Erik laughed a little, but it was sad. "Everything."
"That would take a very long time," Charles smiled. "Anything in particular?"
"Is she talking yet?" he asked, still quiet as if not to wake her.
"A few words," Charles replied. "But she's rather adept at making her wishes known by impatient gestures, something I'm certain she inherited from you."
Erik laughed at that, something startling and delighted. "What was her first word?"
"Dada," Charles said, unable to resist a quick touch to her foot through the bars of the crib. "Although if you ask Sean, he'll say it was "Sean." There's also "no" and "mine," which I guess isn't all that surprising in a house full of other children."
There was so much emotion in Erik's expression, something fragile and wondrous that reminded Charles of when he'd re-given him the memory of his mother and helped him move a satellite dish with his mind. Just like with Jean, he couldn't stop himself from reaching out, brushing his fingers against the hand Erik had curled around the top of the crib.
"Come on," he said, nodding toward the door. "She'll sleep for a few hours." After Erik silently followed him back into the hall, Charles took a deep breath before he continued. "The kids will be all right by themselves, so I think I'm going to stay inside until Jean wakes up. Would you like to join me?"
It was light, but there was a brush of Erik's hand over his shoulder. "What do you have in mind?"
"It's been a very long time since I've played a game of chess," Charles said. "If you're up to it?"
He could feel Erik's power settle into the metal of his chair. "Always."
**
A week earlier, even in the wake of his conversation with Mystique, Erik had never imagined that he'd find himself where he was at that moment -- sitting in Charles's study with the man himself, a chess board between them.
It was easy to let himself pretend that this was a memory from before Cuba, back when the one thing he hadn't doubted was his relationship with Charles, assured that his friend would always be at his side as they took on the world. Erik had been wrong, of course, but it was still one of the best times in his life; with the exception of his childhood memories from before the war, there were none that were more precious to him.
Except maybe the ones he'd just made, of holding his daughter, of listening to Charles tell him about her in that soft voice of his, sharing that moment between them as only her two parents could.
Now, as they sat in an easy silence and contemplated their moves, the only thing missing from the scene was a martini glass to take Erik back to the days they'd spent at the Xavier mansion training before Cuba had ripped them apart. At the time, Erik hadn't let himself think much about the future past killing Shaw, past how sweet that last strike would be but sometimes, against his better judgment, he'd found himself doing just the opposite, imagining what it would be like to spend the rest of his life as Charles often alluded, building a new world for their fellow mutants, side by side.
"Did you know?" he heard himself ask aloud. Charles looked up from the board, eyebrows raised, so Erik elaborated, "That Hank and your sister were exchanging letters?" When he caught Charles's open gaze, he snorted. "Of course you did. I forgot who I was asking."
"I do give them their privacy, you know," Charles retorted, although there was no heat. "But yes, I knew. Hank cleared it with me before he wrote back after Raven's first letter."
Erik silently marveled that Charles had seemed to instill more compliance in his students than Erik had in his soldiers, although Erik at least knew he took a capable team into each mission. He doubted Charles could say the same.
"I'm happy to leave you with your privacy as well, my friend," Charles told him. "But you really must think less loudly when you think about me if you don't want to broadcast."
"Exactly how much have you picked up?"
"This afternoon? Just your opinion on the battle readiness of my team," Charles assured him. "But I have been actively shielding as best as I can. Though your own shielding has improved."
"A consequence of continued contact with telepaths," he murmured as he made his move, under no doubt that Charles heard him perfectly.
Charles nodded a little. "It's been a long few years."
Apart, Erik could hear as clearly as if Charles had spoken at him telepathically. The regret in his voice was similarly unmistakable. He couldn't help but agree. "Yes, it has."
There were so many things Erik could think to say in the silence between them, all of them true: I've missed you, I still want you by my side, even I'm sorry; but he wasn't sure they'd make it past his throat or, if they did, what meaning they would take on once they were said aloud. It wasn't as if anything had changed in those two years -- Charles still wanted something so different from what Erik knew they needed. For all of Mystique's talk of compromise, Erik didn't see where it could exist between them.
But there were other, more recent transgressions that Erik knew he needed to apologize for, things he'd done that, in retrospect, he knew cut Charles more deeply than the bullet once had.
"Charles," he began, sitting back in little in his seat. When Charles glanced up to meet his eyes again, Erik held the gaze, refusing to let himself look away. "I -- I want you to know I'm sorry about Emma...and Sean. It was wrong of me to ever think to do that."
Charles didn't speak for a full minute, instead watching his hand as it tightened around a captured pawn for a moment before releasing it. "It was my greatest fear come to life," he admitted. "That you'd hurt one of them."
"I didn't mean for Sean to be hurt," Erik told him truthfully. "I know it doesn't change the fact of what Emma did or that I asked it of her. I didn't think..."
"I know. That's what makes you so terrifying," Charles said. "I know that you have it within you to do so much good, but not if it's only anger that you allow yourself to respond to."
"Charles..."
He raised his hand to quiet whatever else Erik wanted to say. "I'm not trying to start a fight, Erik. Not today. But you have to understand that it's the one thing I can't allow. It's why I had planned to keep Jean from you and why I don't think I would've regretted it if I'd been successful. Because the life you've chosen, it's only going to ever be about violence and I can't let that touch them if I can help it."
Erik nodded. "I understand that and I know that I've hurt people I've cared about with my actions, actions that aren't defensible." He let his eyes linger on the shiny metal of Charles's wheelchair. "Of course, I know."
Charles's empty fingers idly stroked down the armrest, as if tracing the path of Erik's eyes. "It would've been harder for me to forgive this if it had happened to anyone else."
Erik wanted to believe what Charles's words implied. "Does that mean that I am forgiven?"
"For the bullet?" At Erik's nod, Charles's face softened. "Yes, Erik. I hadn't meant to leave you with any other impression but during your first visit...Jean was already a concern and I hadn't been prepared to see you."
"And for Sean?"
Charles's expression shuttered a little. "I wasn't sure I'd be as gracious as I've been today when next I saw you," he confessed. "But you came without your armor and I know how difficult that was for you. It wouldn't have been right to send you away in the face of that."
Coming without his helmet had been the most agonizing decision he'd made leading up to the day, even more than the decision to come at all. Charles knew him too well without the advantage of telepathy, without Erik's inner most everything laid bare to him. He knew that the others, including Mystique, thought he feared Charles's powers because Charles could bend him to his will with a glance. Erik, however, feared that Charles might finally see something there that changed his mind about ever seeing goodness in him.
Erik had barely finished the thought to himself before he felt fingers brush against his. "It hasn't," Charles told him. "I see your mistakes, Erik, but I still see you. And I still believe with everything I am that you're good, if only you'd let yourself be."
"I thought you weren't hearing my thoughts," Erik reminded him, using humor to cover the tremor in his voice.
Charles smiled, a simple uncomplicated smile, something Erik hadn't seen in a long time, outside of his memories. "You keep thinking loudly," he said, adding more quietly, "It's almost like there are some things you can't help but want me to know."
Erik was trying to decide how to respond when he noticed Charles had tilted his head a little, bringing his fingers to temple before he rolled his eyes.
"What was that?" he asked.
"Ah, just Hank, checking in on me," Charles admitted, a little sheepishly. "He and Alex, particularly, are -- overprotective." He shook his head, as if he couldn't understand the concept. "I think he wanted to make sure we hadn't escalated to bloodshed."
"Before I found out that they were playing at pen-pals, I would've asked the same about Hank and Mystique -- Raven," Erik said.
"Yes, they've had their moments in the last months," Charles agreed.
"I was surprised that Hank was writing her, given their difficulties." He vividly remembered Mystique's frustration during those few days under that roof, the way she'd ranted and raved about Hank when he'd given her the chance. He should've realized something had changed when those rants didn't follow them to their new base.
"I think it helped that Raven made the first overture," Charles said, finally making his move on the chessboard that had been stalled by their detour into serious conversation. "But Hank doesn't want to be mad at Raven. He wants to understand, I think, and he wants them to find a way to make things right between them." The way Charles made sure he caught Erik's eye as he spoke told Erik that he was talking about more than his sister and McCoy with his words.
"Things can't go back to the way it was before," Erik murmured, ducking his head to stare at the chessboard, even though the match was the furthest thing from his mind.
"I don't think you'll find someone more aware of that than Hank," Charles told him. "But there is such a thing as moving forward -- and changing the things that hold you back from that."
Even though he'd never thought he would, Erik had actually forgotten the intensity of Charles's blue eyes, struck by them now as if he hadn't spent months with their steady warmth cast in his direction. But he did remember how sometimes so much emotion showed on Charles's face that it was painful to look at, especially when it was directed at him, full of soft, pleasant feelings that made his heart stutter in his chest.
He decided a change in subject was in order. "Jean," he said.
"Is fine," Charles assured him.
"No, I..." Erik ran a hand through his hair, a nervous gesture he'd almost abandoned given the time he spent with his head encased in metal. "I hate that I've missed a whole year of her life. I do understand why," he quickly added. "But I've missed so much and it's not like I can ever get it back."
"I am sorry for that, Erik," Charles said. "If it helps, it wasn't a decision I made lightly. And it wasn't as easy as I would've liked it to be."
"And now that I know?" Erik had to ask. "How do you feel about it?"
"I won't lie and say it hasn't worried me in the last few months," Charles told him. "But I hope that you being here like this as opposed to...I hope it's a sign that I don't have to worry anymore."
"I know I...said things when I found out," he admitted slowly. "But, no, I'd never...where on earth would be better for our daughter than here, with you? "
Charles looked distinctively relieved, which made a flash of guilt hit Erik over the fact that Charles had actually worried about that very thing. "I never thought, really, I just...it's been pointed out to me on more than one occasion that I'm too quick to believe the best in people."
Erik knew he'd been the one to say so, but he didn't mind it so much when he was the one reaping the rewards of Charles's blind faith. "I still want to know everything," he told him. "Anything, everything you can think to tell me about her."
Charles leaned back in his chair a little, a measuring, speculative gleam in his eye.
"Charles?"
"I know it's not exactly the same," he began. "But I could..." He raised a hand into the air and wiggled his fingers, a gesture that Erik had long associated with the use of his telepathy. "Well, I could share. My memories of Jean. With you."
Knowing from experience how intimate it was to share memories through Charles's powers, Erik realized he was being offered more than just a chance to gain knowledge about his daughter. It was a sign of trust -- Charles was willing to give him something of himself, even more than he'd given him by tacitly allowing him to spend time with their daughter.
He couldn't imagine turning it down.
"That sounds...fine," he managed to answer. "Yes."
"Right then." Charles shifted again, his face schooling into something very contemplative. He lifted his hand toward his head, then paused. "Are you ready? Now?"
"Whenever you are," Erik told him, settling back in his own chair.
Charles nodded his acceptance and finished the gesture, laying his fingers against his temple. Where Erik watched him, he could see Charles's eyelids flutter, and then Erik didn't see anything of what was in front of him because his mind was exploding with flashes -- of scenes, of emotions, of words that echoed in his ear from somewhere inside his own head. At first they were a jumble, quite unlike the time Charles had presented him with his own buried memory, but then he could hear Charles's quiet voice guiding him through each one in sequence, slotting them into his thoughts until they were a coherent story that answered all his questions.
This was how I found out, Charles explained, and Erik saw Hank's worried blue face.
And this is what it was like to hold her for the first time, and Erik found feel Charles's emotion from that moment bleeding into his own as he looked down as Charles had at the newborn in his arms.
Then there were dozens of Jean's other firsts -- first smile, first laugh, first fever; rolling over, crawling, her first independent steps; and there were glimpses of the things in between, her daily routine through twelve months of living, fussiness and frustration, sweet moments that made every rocky one fade away.
It could've been minutes or hours before Charles pulled back from the telepathic contact, leaving Erik alone with his new knowledge. When the room finally righted itself around him and he found himself facing Charles once again, it didn't surprise Erik that there were tears in Charles's eyes. He was even less surprised that he could feel a matching wetness on his face.
"Jean's awake," Charles said, voice rough as he maneuvered around the chessboard. He paused when he was close to Erik and he reached out, using one of his thumbs to brush away a tear on Erik's face. "I'll give you a moment, yes?"
Erik didn't trust his voice, so he nodded instead.
"Come up to the nursery when you're ready," Charles said softly. "There's still cake to eat."
Erik wanted to laugh at Charles's droll parting shot but he couldn't find it in him to do so, still tremulous and shaken by what Charles had given him by sharing his memories. They hadn't come to Erik like photos in an album or images on a screen; they'd each come attached with every nuance the moments had held for Charles, every thought and feeling he associated with them. What had struck Erik about that was that every moment had been so full of love -- not just for Jean, but for him as well, a quiet background hum that never seemed to leave Charles's thoughts in those years of separation.
But more even more amazing, more earth-shattering, was the thought that had woven itself through those same memories, a coherent shape to the longing entwined around those sure, steady feelings.
I wish Erik were here.
**
End of Part 10.