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FIC: An Earlier Heaven - Charles/Erik, XMFC - (11/13)
Title: An Earlier Heaven (11/13)
Author: Regann
Pairing: Charles/Erik (XMFC)
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: ~5,500 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 11)
As much as Charles tried not to let himself, he couldn't help the hope that Jean's birthday gave him that perhaps Erik and Raven weren't as lost to him as he'd always feared. After their telepathic transference that afternoon, Erik had eventually joined Charles, Jean, and the rest of those gathered for the promised cake, the highlight of the day for the younger children. Even Jean, who Charles assumed hadn't understood the significance, had enjoyed the chance to smash the vanilla cake and frosting between her fingers to her heart's content, ending up with as much of it on her as had went in her mouth.
Erik had remained close during the proceedings, even as he'd worked on being as unobtrusive as possible, especially given the looks he'd gotten from Alex, Hank and occasionally even Sean. Sean had been more wary than anything while Alex had been overtly hostile, while Hank had vacillated between the two whenever his attention was snatched away from his own cautious hope toward Raven. Still, Charles had tried to make sure Erik had a chance to enjoy more of his daughter's company and he'd even pressed care-taking duties on him at one point, giving him a little alone time while Charles tended to the four other young people under his care.
Although Charles had tried his best to give Erik as much privacy as possible, it had been difficult, especially after how closely their minds had been intertwined earlier in the day, to not catch a few stray thoughts, particularly those that were strongest -- the love, affection and wonder he felt for Jean. Charles had been able to tell from the glimpses he'd picked up that he was somehow part of that equation for Erik as well, but he couldn't be certain to what extent, if what Erik felt for him was just the nostalgia over what they had once had, or fondness given they shared a child or something more. He'd been tempted to look, to find that answer, but he hadn't.
Despite how long Raven and Erik had visited that day, it still had seemed like a blink of time before it was obvious the festivities were over, with no reason for the two outsiders to linger any longer. Alex had made it abundantly apparent with a curt, dismissive nod in their direction as he and Darwin had corralled the girls -- Jean, included -- into the house while Sean and the others had started to clear away the debris from the party. That had left Charles and Hank to make their awkward, stilted goodbyes, which Raven had helped along by throwing herself first at Hank and then at Charles, holding onto him like she'd been afraid she'd never see him again. And maybe, he thought later, she had been.
Erik had not opted for any such overt affection, though he'd favored Charles with a look he'd learned from so many evenings spent together, something warm and teasing to those who knew to look for it, an expression that always managed to draw a smile from Charles.
"Thank you," he'd said simply. "For today. It was...unexpected."
"You're welcome," Charles had said, adding with his mind, And I mean it. You're welcome here, Erik. If you want to be.
Erik had inclined his head a little in acknowledgement but he hadn't said anything else because Azazel had appeared off in the horizon, a foreboding figure even in the rays of the summer sun. Charles had beckoned Hank to turn back to the house with him as Erik and Raven had walked away, refusing to watch them disappear into the air one more time.
Charles knew it was dangerous to have any kind of optimism when it came to Erik, someone whose every reactionary choice seemed to be designed to inflict more damage on those who loved him, but he couldn't stop himself, not when he could remember so clearly every detail of that day, the minute differences he'd been able to detect, the subtle shifts in mood and nuance in Erik's words and looks. He'd come without his helmet and he'd come with little hostility; for Erik, it had been a momentous effort, however much helped along by Raven. And it wasn't as if there wasn't a simple truth that had been exposed by it all -- if Erik truly decided to give up on his campaign against humans and abandoned his plans for violence and revenge, Charles would not have it in him to turn him away.
He wasn't the only one with lingering memories of Jean's birthday; like himself, Hank had found himself with a new-found sense of hope. When Charles touched his mind, he could tell that whatever Raven and Hank had discussed that day and in the letters before and after it, it was helping the young scientist with the same things he'd often brought to Charles when he'd lacked guidance. While Charles missed their conversations, he didn't begrudge Hank the outlet he'd found that seemed to be bringing him actual peace on the matters.
Even Darwin, in his own, quiet way, felt more settled after the low-key interactions of the birthday party, and Sean took the entire thing in stride, leaving Alex as the only one left truly unsettled by Erik's appearance that day. He'd been moody and surly for almost a week afterward and Charles probably wouldn't have needed his telepathy to discern its source, if only from the way he more resolutely dedicated himself to training and his revisions to the manor's defensive systems that he and Hank had begun to implement. Charles wasn't sure how long he could give Alex to sort it out himself but when Darwin started giving him significant looks over Jean's head at breakfast, Charles knew he'd have to step in sooner rather than later because Alex wasn't working through it on his own.
Still even Charles was surprised when it was Alex who approached him first.
Alex chose to corner him in the converted weight room, a room that was unmistakably one that fell into the young man's domain instead of Charles', even though Charles used it several times a week for his own exercises. Charles ignored Alex's hovering presence until he finished his last rep and replaced the weight on the stand.
"Did you want something, Alex?" he asked, flicking his sweaty hair from his eyes as he looked over to where Alex waited near the door.
Alex's face was stern, frowning and determined. "What's up with you and Erik?"
"Meaning?" Charles asked, reaching for the towel he had draped over the back of his wheelchair.
Alex rolled his eyes. "You were kinda chummy back at Jean's party. I'm just wondering what it meant."
"Nothing other than what you saw," Charles said. "Erik decided to come and see Jean. I didn't see the harm in letting him."
"So why are we even bothering with training and defensive alarms and everything if you're just going to let him waltz in through the front door?" he wanted to know.
"He did not come to start something with any of us," Charles pointed out, sighing. "It was a completely different scenario than the one you're talking about."
"But what if one day, it's not?" Alex asked. "Or what about one day when it's not? It's not like anything's changed just because he found out about Jean."
"I know you don't have any experience with this, but finding out something like that changes you, no matter how much you think it won't," Charles told him. "Just because you can't see a change in him doesn't mean there hasn't been one."
"Charles," Alex began and he actually flinched from the pity he could detect beneath the frustration. "It's -- this isn't going to change anything. He's still out there killing people for no reason." And then, he added, more softly. "He still chose killing people over staying with you."
It wasn't anything that Charles hadn't told himself before and he knew, he could feel, that Alex spoke from a place of concern. That didn't make the conversation any easier. "It's not as simple as that, Alex," he settled on. "As much as I don't agree with what Erik is doing, as much as I will never agree with him, it's not that simple."
"It's been years and he hasn't realized how stupid he is," Alex said. "What makes you think it's going to be tomorrow or next week when he finally does?"
Suddenly, Charles wanted Alex to understand. He paused for a moment, gathering his thoughts. "I know what you think of Erik and me, and my past relationship with him," he said. "But love doesn't make me stupid, Alex. Everything you've said, I've thought about, probably more than you can understand. I know what kind of man Erik is, how he thinks. What he is and isn't capable of. But even knowing all of it, I can't give up on him, not if there's a chance he'll change his mind for good. That he'll see."
He could tell Alex couldn't understand, not really, but that he was trying. "Jean doesn't know him, not really," he shot back. "And we're getting along fine without him. Why do we even need him back here? Especially when we can't trust him. Because we can't."
"You're right when you say we don't need him," Charles agreed. He looked down and noticed that he was twisting the towel between his hands, an old nervous habit he had abandoned even before he'd met Raven in his kitchen one dark night. "But the world doesn't need Magneto on the loose either and if it's my faith that can help make that happen, my patience, then I'm willing to give it for as long as it takes."
Alex's eyes searched his face, hard and flinty. Then he sighed, something deep and sad, but a sigh that eased the tension in his shoulders. "But that's not the only reason, though."
Charles could feel Alex's squirming embarrassment, the part of him that didn't like to think too deeply about Charles and Erik, about the deeper truths of their relationship. It was oddly...familial, like he'd noticed children felt about their parents and it reminded him how fond he was of Alex, even in the face of his inquisitive disapproval. Still, Alex was an adult, even if he was a young one, and Charles wouldn't lie to him. "Of course it's not," he admitted. "We may not need Erik here, but I'd like him here. I want him here."
"I know," Alex said with another sigh. He rolled his eyes again. "That's what Darwin said you'd say."
"Did you think I'd lie?" Charles asked, humor creeping into his voice.
Alex...flushed a little. "No, not exactly but I thought maybe you'd try to dress it up more. You know, more about how it's better for everyone, blah, blah."
"It is," Charles reminded him. "Erik abandoning his vendetta against humans will only help all mutants, us included."
"Darwin said that, too," Alex admitted a little sheepishly.
"It sounds like you ought to listen to Darwin more, doesn't it?" Charles teased and Alex turned redder. More seriously, Charles continued. "I have as many selfless reasons for wanting to give Erik a chance to change as I do selfish ones. I'm aware of the difference."
Because Charles didn't pry too deeply into Alex's thoughts, he wasn't sure exactly what about their conversation helped Alex but he did settle down after that, although Charles was observant enough to know that Darwin had a hand in that, as well. It was another reason of many that Charles was glad that Darwin had found his way back to them, because he was a steadying influence on Alex where no one else managed it.
Charles didn't ignore Alex's concerns, though, and he gave them serious thought over the next few days. He wasn't unaware that Hank, Alex, Sean and Darwin each had a very different perspective on Erik and he had more than just that quartet to worry about -- he also had Jean and the other children to think about, the students he had now and the ones he'd have in the future. He had to strike a balance between what he wanted and what would be the best for all involved. For all of Alex's points, though, Charles couldn't imagine a better world for mutants than the one where Erik did retreat on his mission against humans, a world where humans wouldn't learn about their mutant cousins in blood and violence, but in charity and peace.
He knew that Erik thought his version of events was a very unlikely future, just as Charles knew in his gut that Erik's way didn't even have a chance in it for harmonious coexistence; Charles would take a long shot over none at all.
Charles was still thinking about his conversation with Alex a few days later as he readied Jean for bed, settling down to read to her as he so often did. At thirteen months she took as much delight in trying to turn the pages as she did in listening to him recite The Cat in the Hat for the nth time, but Charles's joy in the simple act hadn't diminished from the first time he'd done it when she was still a newborn. But, for once, his mind wasn't on the simple but clever words of the story.
"Alex's not wrong, you know," he said aloud, to himself, to Jean. She reacted to his voice but could tell it wasn't the rhythm he used for story-reading, so instead remained focused on grasping the edge of a page where she and the book were settled on his lap. "You may very well be better off never seeing Erik again," he continued, murmuring against her hair. "Why let you get attached when there's no telling what he'll do? If the next dangerous mission he takes Raven off on isn't the last for both of them. Do the boys really think I don't worry about that constantly?"
He smoothed an idle hand over her red curls, watching for a moment as she batted and poked at the bright illustrations on the page. "But I can't give up on him now, can I? It seems rather much like quitting to give in now when I've had my first glimpse of hope in years."
Charles looked down at his watch, noticing the time. He gently tugged the book out of her reach and smoothed the rumpled pages. "What do you think, love? Hmm?" he asked aloud, finally closing the book and setting it aside. "Should I give up?"
Jean's emphatic "No!" as she reached after the book made Charles laugh, in spite of himself. He turned her around in his arms so he could kiss her face, a series of feather-light touches against her skin that made her wrinkle her nose.
"I guess it's decided then," he said, still laughing. "We won't give up on him quite yet."
**
Even if the rest of his soldiers weren't exactly used to living for a cause, Erik was well acquainted with it. He was used to the ebb and flow of time, the startling, jarring transition from action to inaction, the way it sometimes seemed as if they'd never have a rest while others felt like they'd never have anything to do. He'd lived that way most of his life, on the trails of the Nazis and Nazi hypothesizers he'd thought could lead him to Schmidt, until they had led him to Shaw that fateful night in Florida but, more importantly he knew now, to Charles Xavier and a glimpse of a future he'd known he'd never allow himself to have.
And yet...
The first month after his daughter's birthday had been one of almost constant action, as they'd worked to track down a mutant contact they'd made in South America who had gone missing. It had led them to another government's brutal research facility, another government full of humans who had no sympathy for mutants just because of their difference. They hadn't been able to save their contact but none of the humans in the building had survived either. For many years, it was what Erik would've considered an acceptable form of retribution for their crimes.
And yet...
It was a hard mission, harder than some of the earlier ones because they hadn't been prepared to stumble into it. After it was said and done and their tracks had been covered, Erik had ordered them back to their dilapidated Caribbean plantation, the one they'd first used after leaving the Xavier manor months before. He wasn't sure if it was because he hated the place or preferred as to why he chose to keep coming back to it, but something told him it was where he wanted to be at the moment and no one risked an argument with him over the choice.
He watched Mystique unwind by shedding the form she'd worn for advanced intelligence, a pretty olive-skinned mask that had almost proved useless given her rudimentary Spanish. Janos had been especially useful for that skill alone, and Emma's inability to use her telepathy as a translator had frustrated him as well. Erik knew it was a skill open to telepaths since he'd seen Charles use his powers in such a way, but it eluded Emma and, even with the helmet, he'd been sure she'd read that censure in his face, the comparison that left her short. It had been a terse time within the team, but they'd succeeded in ending another threat against mutants, had had further proof that no government in the world was ready to accept mutants, no matter the delusions Charles entertained of peaceful coexistence.
And yet...
The few days Erik had planned to spend in idleness on the island stretched close to a week, and no one asked any questions. There was a pile of reconnaissance on his desk in the mildewed sitting room, dozens of ideas and plans and communiqués, all of which could pan out into viable missions; but Erik found himself ignoring them for time spent in solitude, both with and without the rum Azazel managed to keep around the estate. Sometimes he spent hours just staring at the wall, his mind a-whirl, as he'd done before in countless hotels and hovels across Europe, as he had in cramped cabins on steamers and fishing vessels crisscrossing the world in search of the devil in human form. He wasn't unaware of the lows that sometimes came from it, when he let himself tighten the leash on his emotions so much that he couldn't release it even when he wanted to, walking around for days with an emptiness inside he wanted to fill. It was all part of the militant condition, part of what made him the weapon he'd become, the one that could forge a safe, new world for his people.
And yet...
Erik came across Mystique one morning, loose and languid in her natural form the way she never was when she wore another face, bent over a writing pad, cheap pen scratching furiously across the bleached surface of the paper.
"Another letter to McCoy?" he asked with a raised eyebrow, trying to express his disbelief and mockery in one compact gesture.
It was lost, however, when she didn't look up from her writing. "Yes," she said, finishing her sentence with a flourish before she lifted her head. "And Charles, too," she added. "Since I'm sending something to the mansion anyway."
Mystique was the only one among them who ever said Charles's name aloud, who ever alluded to anything about his life that wasn't being Magneto and leading their missions, even though he was certain they all gossiped about it behind his back. Emma, especially, he thought watched him differently now than she had in the beginning, and even after months of it, her gaze didn't sit well on his shoulders, leaving an itch behind whenever he felt it on his back.
She narrowed her yellow eyes at him when he didn't speak. "Do you want...?" she began, clearing her throat before she continued. "I mean, I could add a hello or something. From you. If you want."
"Write your letter," he said as he walked away. "Just leave me out of it."
A month before, three months before, six months before -- where there had once been only the surety of his purpose, the sweet sting of justice in his blood, there was a dissatisfaction, a gnawing doubt that Erik hadn't experienced since he'd been a very young man, still new to his search for his mother's murderer. It had been from the lips of the first sympathizer he'd killed, who had looked back at him with tears in her eyes as she'd asked if a murderer was what his mother had raised him to be. It had taken weeks to shake those words from his brain, to move on to his next target without them ringing in his ears. And it had been the last time he'd let doubt, real doubt, sway his hand.
Until Charles, of course.
He blamed his recent difficulties on Charles, too, on his soft eyes and apparently-unshakeable faith, on the longing he still heard when Charles said his name. He hadn't been able to forget any of it, not with Charles's memories rattling around in his head, not with both his own and Charles's recollection of Jean's laughter so constant in his ears. They weren't memories he wanted to trade, but they had created a schism in his thoughts, a divide between the man Erik thought he might've been if not for Shaw and the leader that Magneto was destined to be.
After they passed an entire week in the solitude of the retreat, Erik wasn't surprised to see Emma glide into the study, a look on her lovely face that said she had something on her mind. Even dressed in the most current, mod fashions, her snow-white attire coupled with her pale complexion always left Erik with the impression of a ghost, a shade sent to haunt him with her sharp words and shrewder eyes.
She closed and locked the door behind her as she entered, a signal more than anything that she planned for it to be a serious discussion. He glanced toward the helmet where it sat on the edge of the desk and thought about donning it before he decided not to bother. "I want to talk to you," she declared, coming to stand next to him where he looked out across the sandy beach toward the dark, moonlit sea.
"I guessed as much," he said. "What do you want?"
"I just have one question for you," she admitted. "I've tried to figure out the answer for myself but it's not easy, not with you."
"What is it?"
"What's next?"
"Next?"
"For us," she explained. "For your Brotherhood."
Erik glanced back to the pile of papers on his desk. "I haven't decided yet. There are a few..."
She waved an elegant hand to cut him off. "I don't mean like that. I meant in a wider context. We've been foundering for years now and I'm just wondering -- when are you going to be ready to take this to the next level?"
Erik knew his expression darkened as he felt his features knit up to express his displeasure. "Foundering?"
Emma wasn't affected, although she did lift one pale eyebrow in response. "I meant what said, Magneto. Foundering." She glanced around the room, then moved to the table to pour herself a glass of rum from the half-empty bottle. "Say what you want about his methods, but Sebastian always had a plan." She took a long sip, pausing for a moment as if to let it linger on her tongue. "We were always moving forward, toward an end goal."
"And you think I don't?" Erik asked, a cutting look as he watched her move across the room.
She gave him a frigid little smile as she refilled her glass. "Do you know much about chess?"
Erik snorted in disbelief at the question. "You know I do," he said. "Don't act as if you haven't poked around in my head enough to know that."
Emma gave a slight nod, conceding the point. "Yes, it was a pastime you and your other telepath enjoyed," she admitted. "Sebastian was a fan as well -- something else you two had in common."
He narrowed his gaze at her statement. "I'm warning you -- "
She held up a hand. "My point is that he acted on his plans like he played chess," she quickly explained. "Every move he made was calculated, it was all in service toward his end game. Your decisions, while sound, are haphazard at best."
Erik crossed his arms over his chest. "Saving our people from persecution instead of killing everyone in a nuclear winter does involve a different skill set," he told her, still bristling under the Shaw comparison. For all that he might've agreed with some of Shaw's ideas about humans, to hear it painted in such terms unnerved him. Especially the way Emma did it so causally, it focused his attention uncomfortably on the similarities he shared with the man he most believed had deserved to die by his hands.
"If I believed you had a heart, Magneto, I'd say it wasn't in it," Emma said, after a moment, an odd look flickering over her features.
"In what?" he asked.
"This." She raised her arms in a gesture that seemed to encompass the entire room. "The plan, the mission, the crusade -- however you like to think of what we're doing."
"Emma..." he began, but she cut him off.
"The cause for the past few months is obvious: your attention has been split between what we're doing here and...elsewhere." She smiled again, something that seemed to be amusement at herself, for the way she'd hedged the end of her sentence. She continued. "We all know that. But I'm talking about even earlier. It's been almost two years and there's still no movement on what I thought what was your ultimate mission. But I haven't seen any sign that you're ever going to take this past what we are now: a small group of well-trained terrorists." Emma shook her head. "I'm used to bigger things, Magneto. Sebastian wanted to change the world."
To be compared to Shaw and found wanting on any subject made Erik flinch. "If there any way we can have this discussion without mention of him?" he growled.
"No, because you told me you believed in what he said," Emma pointed out. "You didn't want to follow the plans he laid. Fine, find your own way. But you haven't found that, either. Where's the revolution, Magneto? Why haven't we fired a shot heard around the world to let the humans know that the next stage of humans are ready to inherit the Earth?" She mirrored his pose, arms over her chest as she demanded, "What's holding you back?"
"It's not that simple, Emma," Erik told him, irritation creeping into his voice. "Are you ready to face that world? Where the humans are expecting us?"
"The point is, I thought you were."
Erik turned away, to look out over the ocean outside of his window. Despite the heavenly view it afforded, all he could see were memories of the deaths he'd seen at the hands of the Nazis, hear the cries of his people as they'd been murdered around him, reminders that spoke to the absolute certainty he had in how humans would react to mutants. "The war is...coming," he finally said. "I don't know when but the humans will never accept us peacefully, not the way Ch-- the way others think. There will be no avoiding it."
"I agree." Emma's voice was soft, almost emotive, unlike her usual cool tones. "But the war isn't necessarily going to happen tomorrow, not if we don't start it ourselves."
Erik glanced sharply down into her impassive face. "Are you saying you want to leave, Emma? Quit?"
Her expression still had that soft, thoughtful quality that reminded him more of Charles than Emma. "I've spent my entire life fighting someone or something," she told him. "First -- before, then with Sebastian, now with you." She looked up to meet his eyes. "I'm ready for the war, if it comes tomorrow. But I can't abide the tedium of this uncertainty. Either it's war, Magneto, or it's peace."
There was a hint of disapproval coming from Emma, a subtle telepathic emotion that mirrored the irritation in her words. Erik knew she was right when she said the war was not yet upon them, and they had not yet started it. He also knew what it was like to spend a lifetime fighting. Still that didn't mean he was ready to accept what Emma was inferring – that it was reluctance on his part to commit to the cause he'd found facing death on that Cuban beach almost two years before. He hadn't seen any other option at the time, and he still wasn't sure one existed for him.
Into the silence between them, he made his confession quietly. "I'm not made for peace," he told her, as if that was an answer to the question she posed.
"I know," Emma said. "But I think you want to be, probably for the first time in your life." She tapped idly at the glass she still held, one long nail against the cut crystal. "And why fight yourself when you don't have to?"
"So you're suggesting...what?" he asked. "That I pack it up and go hide away until the humans are ready kill us all?"
"I'm not suggesting anything," she said with a roll of her eyes, before continuing. "Well, that's not true -- I am saying that you need to make a decision. Decide where you want to be tomorrow and the next day and the next and what you want to be doing for those days. If that's this, then there's no reason to waste our time waiting any longer. If it's not..." Emma shrugged. "...go do whatever it is."
Erik could still feel the creep of her telepathic powers, the way she flung feelings and images at him to illustrate her words. It wasn't as smooth as Charles's powers or as seamless, but it hinted at what she knew he wanted but feared accepting. "And if what I want is to wait to a little longer before I start that war we both know is coming?"
"Then we'll stay in touch," she said, shifting to deposit her empty glass on a nearby table. "I've...grown rather fond of you, Magneto," she added. "You can go to New York to your telepath and your daughter and teach those boys of his how to really protect themselves for what's coming and I'll do something else."
Emma shrugged again. "I'm not opposed to postponing the war for a decade or two now that I've come to realize it won't be as simple as Sebastian expected. There are things I could be doing that are not this."
He couldn't help it; he laughed. "And what would Emma Frost do with a decade or two on her hands?"
His amusement earned him a measuring look. "Xavier's not the only one interested in shaping young mutants minds," she said, moving away from him and the window, toward the closed door. "Maybe I'll open my own school."
"It's always a contest with you, isn't it, Emma?" he asked, humor still threading through his voice
Emma didn't say anything else, but the sly smile she threw his way before she left said enough.
But Erik's amusement didn't last long because the mark of Emma's words still laid heavy on his mind, the stinging truth of what she'd come to tell him. They had reached that moment -- Erik had reached that moment where decisions needed to be made, perhaps the simplest decision of them all. It was one he'd thought he'd made on that beach, when he'd left Charles behind and taken Mystique by the hand, but Charles was not so easily forgotten, nor were his lessons, despite Erik's best attempts.
Still, he knew Emma was right: one way or another, Erik needed to make up his mind and stop wasting time. Be it his familiar war or the frightening aspect of peace, Erik Lehnsherr had some thinking to do on what came next.
It was with surprise that he realized he actually had time to do just that.
**
End of Part 11
Author: Regann
Pairing: Charles/Erik (XMFC)
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: ~5,500 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 11)
As much as Charles tried not to let himself, he couldn't help the hope that Jean's birthday gave him that perhaps Erik and Raven weren't as lost to him as he'd always feared. After their telepathic transference that afternoon, Erik had eventually joined Charles, Jean, and the rest of those gathered for the promised cake, the highlight of the day for the younger children. Even Jean, who Charles assumed hadn't understood the significance, had enjoyed the chance to smash the vanilla cake and frosting between her fingers to her heart's content, ending up with as much of it on her as had went in her mouth.
Erik had remained close during the proceedings, even as he'd worked on being as unobtrusive as possible, especially given the looks he'd gotten from Alex, Hank and occasionally even Sean. Sean had been more wary than anything while Alex had been overtly hostile, while Hank had vacillated between the two whenever his attention was snatched away from his own cautious hope toward Raven. Still, Charles had tried to make sure Erik had a chance to enjoy more of his daughter's company and he'd even pressed care-taking duties on him at one point, giving him a little alone time while Charles tended to the four other young people under his care.
Although Charles had tried his best to give Erik as much privacy as possible, it had been difficult, especially after how closely their minds had been intertwined earlier in the day, to not catch a few stray thoughts, particularly those that were strongest -- the love, affection and wonder he felt for Jean. Charles had been able to tell from the glimpses he'd picked up that he was somehow part of that equation for Erik as well, but he couldn't be certain to what extent, if what Erik felt for him was just the nostalgia over what they had once had, or fondness given they shared a child or something more. He'd been tempted to look, to find that answer, but he hadn't.
Despite how long Raven and Erik had visited that day, it still had seemed like a blink of time before it was obvious the festivities were over, with no reason for the two outsiders to linger any longer. Alex had made it abundantly apparent with a curt, dismissive nod in their direction as he and Darwin had corralled the girls -- Jean, included -- into the house while Sean and the others had started to clear away the debris from the party. That had left Charles and Hank to make their awkward, stilted goodbyes, which Raven had helped along by throwing herself first at Hank and then at Charles, holding onto him like she'd been afraid she'd never see him again. And maybe, he thought later, she had been.
Erik had not opted for any such overt affection, though he'd favored Charles with a look he'd learned from so many evenings spent together, something warm and teasing to those who knew to look for it, an expression that always managed to draw a smile from Charles.
"Thank you," he'd said simply. "For today. It was...unexpected."
"You're welcome," Charles had said, adding with his mind, And I mean it. You're welcome here, Erik. If you want to be.
Erik had inclined his head a little in acknowledgement but he hadn't said anything else because Azazel had appeared off in the horizon, a foreboding figure even in the rays of the summer sun. Charles had beckoned Hank to turn back to the house with him as Erik and Raven had walked away, refusing to watch them disappear into the air one more time.
Charles knew it was dangerous to have any kind of optimism when it came to Erik, someone whose every reactionary choice seemed to be designed to inflict more damage on those who loved him, but he couldn't stop himself, not when he could remember so clearly every detail of that day, the minute differences he'd been able to detect, the subtle shifts in mood and nuance in Erik's words and looks. He'd come without his helmet and he'd come with little hostility; for Erik, it had been a momentous effort, however much helped along by Raven. And it wasn't as if there wasn't a simple truth that had been exposed by it all -- if Erik truly decided to give up on his campaign against humans and abandoned his plans for violence and revenge, Charles would not have it in him to turn him away.
He wasn't the only one with lingering memories of Jean's birthday; like himself, Hank had found himself with a new-found sense of hope. When Charles touched his mind, he could tell that whatever Raven and Hank had discussed that day and in the letters before and after it, it was helping the young scientist with the same things he'd often brought to Charles when he'd lacked guidance. While Charles missed their conversations, he didn't begrudge Hank the outlet he'd found that seemed to be bringing him actual peace on the matters.
Even Darwin, in his own, quiet way, felt more settled after the low-key interactions of the birthday party, and Sean took the entire thing in stride, leaving Alex as the only one left truly unsettled by Erik's appearance that day. He'd been moody and surly for almost a week afterward and Charles probably wouldn't have needed his telepathy to discern its source, if only from the way he more resolutely dedicated himself to training and his revisions to the manor's defensive systems that he and Hank had begun to implement. Charles wasn't sure how long he could give Alex to sort it out himself but when Darwin started giving him significant looks over Jean's head at breakfast, Charles knew he'd have to step in sooner rather than later because Alex wasn't working through it on his own.
Still even Charles was surprised when it was Alex who approached him first.
Alex chose to corner him in the converted weight room, a room that was unmistakably one that fell into the young man's domain instead of Charles', even though Charles used it several times a week for his own exercises. Charles ignored Alex's hovering presence until he finished his last rep and replaced the weight on the stand.
"Did you want something, Alex?" he asked, flicking his sweaty hair from his eyes as he looked over to where Alex waited near the door.
Alex's face was stern, frowning and determined. "What's up with you and Erik?"
"Meaning?" Charles asked, reaching for the towel he had draped over the back of his wheelchair.
Alex rolled his eyes. "You were kinda chummy back at Jean's party. I'm just wondering what it meant."
"Nothing other than what you saw," Charles said. "Erik decided to come and see Jean. I didn't see the harm in letting him."
"So why are we even bothering with training and defensive alarms and everything if you're just going to let him waltz in through the front door?" he wanted to know.
"He did not come to start something with any of us," Charles pointed out, sighing. "It was a completely different scenario than the one you're talking about."
"But what if one day, it's not?" Alex asked. "Or what about one day when it's not? It's not like anything's changed just because he found out about Jean."
"I know you don't have any experience with this, but finding out something like that changes you, no matter how much you think it won't," Charles told him. "Just because you can't see a change in him doesn't mean there hasn't been one."
"Charles," Alex began and he actually flinched from the pity he could detect beneath the frustration. "It's -- this isn't going to change anything. He's still out there killing people for no reason." And then, he added, more softly. "He still chose killing people over staying with you."
It wasn't anything that Charles hadn't told himself before and he knew, he could feel, that Alex spoke from a place of concern. That didn't make the conversation any easier. "It's not as simple as that, Alex," he settled on. "As much as I don't agree with what Erik is doing, as much as I will never agree with him, it's not that simple."
"It's been years and he hasn't realized how stupid he is," Alex said. "What makes you think it's going to be tomorrow or next week when he finally does?"
Suddenly, Charles wanted Alex to understand. He paused for a moment, gathering his thoughts. "I know what you think of Erik and me, and my past relationship with him," he said. "But love doesn't make me stupid, Alex. Everything you've said, I've thought about, probably more than you can understand. I know what kind of man Erik is, how he thinks. What he is and isn't capable of. But even knowing all of it, I can't give up on him, not if there's a chance he'll change his mind for good. That he'll see."
He could tell Alex couldn't understand, not really, but that he was trying. "Jean doesn't know him, not really," he shot back. "And we're getting along fine without him. Why do we even need him back here? Especially when we can't trust him. Because we can't."
"You're right when you say we don't need him," Charles agreed. He looked down and noticed that he was twisting the towel between his hands, an old nervous habit he had abandoned even before he'd met Raven in his kitchen one dark night. "But the world doesn't need Magneto on the loose either and if it's my faith that can help make that happen, my patience, then I'm willing to give it for as long as it takes."
Alex's eyes searched his face, hard and flinty. Then he sighed, something deep and sad, but a sigh that eased the tension in his shoulders. "But that's not the only reason, though."
Charles could feel Alex's squirming embarrassment, the part of him that didn't like to think too deeply about Charles and Erik, about the deeper truths of their relationship. It was oddly...familial, like he'd noticed children felt about their parents and it reminded him how fond he was of Alex, even in the face of his inquisitive disapproval. Still, Alex was an adult, even if he was a young one, and Charles wouldn't lie to him. "Of course it's not," he admitted. "We may not need Erik here, but I'd like him here. I want him here."
"I know," Alex said with another sigh. He rolled his eyes again. "That's what Darwin said you'd say."
"Did you think I'd lie?" Charles asked, humor creeping into his voice.
Alex...flushed a little. "No, not exactly but I thought maybe you'd try to dress it up more. You know, more about how it's better for everyone, blah, blah."
"It is," Charles reminded him. "Erik abandoning his vendetta against humans will only help all mutants, us included."
"Darwin said that, too," Alex admitted a little sheepishly.
"It sounds like you ought to listen to Darwin more, doesn't it?" Charles teased and Alex turned redder. More seriously, Charles continued. "I have as many selfless reasons for wanting to give Erik a chance to change as I do selfish ones. I'm aware of the difference."
Because Charles didn't pry too deeply into Alex's thoughts, he wasn't sure exactly what about their conversation helped Alex but he did settle down after that, although Charles was observant enough to know that Darwin had a hand in that, as well. It was another reason of many that Charles was glad that Darwin had found his way back to them, because he was a steadying influence on Alex where no one else managed it.
Charles didn't ignore Alex's concerns, though, and he gave them serious thought over the next few days. He wasn't unaware that Hank, Alex, Sean and Darwin each had a very different perspective on Erik and he had more than just that quartet to worry about -- he also had Jean and the other children to think about, the students he had now and the ones he'd have in the future. He had to strike a balance between what he wanted and what would be the best for all involved. For all of Alex's points, though, Charles couldn't imagine a better world for mutants than the one where Erik did retreat on his mission against humans, a world where humans wouldn't learn about their mutant cousins in blood and violence, but in charity and peace.
He knew that Erik thought his version of events was a very unlikely future, just as Charles knew in his gut that Erik's way didn't even have a chance in it for harmonious coexistence; Charles would take a long shot over none at all.
Charles was still thinking about his conversation with Alex a few days later as he readied Jean for bed, settling down to read to her as he so often did. At thirteen months she took as much delight in trying to turn the pages as she did in listening to him recite The Cat in the Hat for the nth time, but Charles's joy in the simple act hadn't diminished from the first time he'd done it when she was still a newborn. But, for once, his mind wasn't on the simple but clever words of the story.
"Alex's not wrong, you know," he said aloud, to himself, to Jean. She reacted to his voice but could tell it wasn't the rhythm he used for story-reading, so instead remained focused on grasping the edge of a page where she and the book were settled on his lap. "You may very well be better off never seeing Erik again," he continued, murmuring against her hair. "Why let you get attached when there's no telling what he'll do? If the next dangerous mission he takes Raven off on isn't the last for both of them. Do the boys really think I don't worry about that constantly?"
He smoothed an idle hand over her red curls, watching for a moment as she batted and poked at the bright illustrations on the page. "But I can't give up on him now, can I? It seems rather much like quitting to give in now when I've had my first glimpse of hope in years."
Charles looked down at his watch, noticing the time. He gently tugged the book out of her reach and smoothed the rumpled pages. "What do you think, love? Hmm?" he asked aloud, finally closing the book and setting it aside. "Should I give up?"
Jean's emphatic "No!" as she reached after the book made Charles laugh, in spite of himself. He turned her around in his arms so he could kiss her face, a series of feather-light touches against her skin that made her wrinkle her nose.
"I guess it's decided then," he said, still laughing. "We won't give up on him quite yet."
**
Even if the rest of his soldiers weren't exactly used to living for a cause, Erik was well acquainted with it. He was used to the ebb and flow of time, the startling, jarring transition from action to inaction, the way it sometimes seemed as if they'd never have a rest while others felt like they'd never have anything to do. He'd lived that way most of his life, on the trails of the Nazis and Nazi hypothesizers he'd thought could lead him to Schmidt, until they had led him to Shaw that fateful night in Florida but, more importantly he knew now, to Charles Xavier and a glimpse of a future he'd known he'd never allow himself to have.
And yet...
The first month after his daughter's birthday had been one of almost constant action, as they'd worked to track down a mutant contact they'd made in South America who had gone missing. It had led them to another government's brutal research facility, another government full of humans who had no sympathy for mutants just because of their difference. They hadn't been able to save their contact but none of the humans in the building had survived either. For many years, it was what Erik would've considered an acceptable form of retribution for their crimes.
And yet...
It was a hard mission, harder than some of the earlier ones because they hadn't been prepared to stumble into it. After it was said and done and their tracks had been covered, Erik had ordered them back to their dilapidated Caribbean plantation, the one they'd first used after leaving the Xavier manor months before. He wasn't sure if it was because he hated the place or preferred as to why he chose to keep coming back to it, but something told him it was where he wanted to be at the moment and no one risked an argument with him over the choice.
He watched Mystique unwind by shedding the form she'd worn for advanced intelligence, a pretty olive-skinned mask that had almost proved useless given her rudimentary Spanish. Janos had been especially useful for that skill alone, and Emma's inability to use her telepathy as a translator had frustrated him as well. Erik knew it was a skill open to telepaths since he'd seen Charles use his powers in such a way, but it eluded Emma and, even with the helmet, he'd been sure she'd read that censure in his face, the comparison that left her short. It had been a terse time within the team, but they'd succeeded in ending another threat against mutants, had had further proof that no government in the world was ready to accept mutants, no matter the delusions Charles entertained of peaceful coexistence.
And yet...
The few days Erik had planned to spend in idleness on the island stretched close to a week, and no one asked any questions. There was a pile of reconnaissance on his desk in the mildewed sitting room, dozens of ideas and plans and communiqués, all of which could pan out into viable missions; but Erik found himself ignoring them for time spent in solitude, both with and without the rum Azazel managed to keep around the estate. Sometimes he spent hours just staring at the wall, his mind a-whirl, as he'd done before in countless hotels and hovels across Europe, as he had in cramped cabins on steamers and fishing vessels crisscrossing the world in search of the devil in human form. He wasn't unaware of the lows that sometimes came from it, when he let himself tighten the leash on his emotions so much that he couldn't release it even when he wanted to, walking around for days with an emptiness inside he wanted to fill. It was all part of the militant condition, part of what made him the weapon he'd become, the one that could forge a safe, new world for his people.
And yet...
Erik came across Mystique one morning, loose and languid in her natural form the way she never was when she wore another face, bent over a writing pad, cheap pen scratching furiously across the bleached surface of the paper.
"Another letter to McCoy?" he asked with a raised eyebrow, trying to express his disbelief and mockery in one compact gesture.
It was lost, however, when she didn't look up from her writing. "Yes," she said, finishing her sentence with a flourish before she lifted her head. "And Charles, too," she added. "Since I'm sending something to the mansion anyway."
Mystique was the only one among them who ever said Charles's name aloud, who ever alluded to anything about his life that wasn't being Magneto and leading their missions, even though he was certain they all gossiped about it behind his back. Emma, especially, he thought watched him differently now than she had in the beginning, and even after months of it, her gaze didn't sit well on his shoulders, leaving an itch behind whenever he felt it on his back.
She narrowed her yellow eyes at him when he didn't speak. "Do you want...?" she began, clearing her throat before she continued. "I mean, I could add a hello or something. From you. If you want."
"Write your letter," he said as he walked away. "Just leave me out of it."
A month before, three months before, six months before -- where there had once been only the surety of his purpose, the sweet sting of justice in his blood, there was a dissatisfaction, a gnawing doubt that Erik hadn't experienced since he'd been a very young man, still new to his search for his mother's murderer. It had been from the lips of the first sympathizer he'd killed, who had looked back at him with tears in her eyes as she'd asked if a murderer was what his mother had raised him to be. It had taken weeks to shake those words from his brain, to move on to his next target without them ringing in his ears. And it had been the last time he'd let doubt, real doubt, sway his hand.
Until Charles, of course.
He blamed his recent difficulties on Charles, too, on his soft eyes and apparently-unshakeable faith, on the longing he still heard when Charles said his name. He hadn't been able to forget any of it, not with Charles's memories rattling around in his head, not with both his own and Charles's recollection of Jean's laughter so constant in his ears. They weren't memories he wanted to trade, but they had created a schism in his thoughts, a divide between the man Erik thought he might've been if not for Shaw and the leader that Magneto was destined to be.
After they passed an entire week in the solitude of the retreat, Erik wasn't surprised to see Emma glide into the study, a look on her lovely face that said she had something on her mind. Even dressed in the most current, mod fashions, her snow-white attire coupled with her pale complexion always left Erik with the impression of a ghost, a shade sent to haunt him with her sharp words and shrewder eyes.
She closed and locked the door behind her as she entered, a signal more than anything that she planned for it to be a serious discussion. He glanced toward the helmet where it sat on the edge of the desk and thought about donning it before he decided not to bother. "I want to talk to you," she declared, coming to stand next to him where he looked out across the sandy beach toward the dark, moonlit sea.
"I guessed as much," he said. "What do you want?"
"I just have one question for you," she admitted. "I've tried to figure out the answer for myself but it's not easy, not with you."
"What is it?"
"What's next?"
"Next?"
"For us," she explained. "For your Brotherhood."
Erik glanced back to the pile of papers on his desk. "I haven't decided yet. There are a few..."
She waved an elegant hand to cut him off. "I don't mean like that. I meant in a wider context. We've been foundering for years now and I'm just wondering -- when are you going to be ready to take this to the next level?"
Erik knew his expression darkened as he felt his features knit up to express his displeasure. "Foundering?"
Emma wasn't affected, although she did lift one pale eyebrow in response. "I meant what said, Magneto. Foundering." She glanced around the room, then moved to the table to pour herself a glass of rum from the half-empty bottle. "Say what you want about his methods, but Sebastian always had a plan." She took a long sip, pausing for a moment as if to let it linger on her tongue. "We were always moving forward, toward an end goal."
"And you think I don't?" Erik asked, a cutting look as he watched her move across the room.
She gave him a frigid little smile as she refilled her glass. "Do you know much about chess?"
Erik snorted in disbelief at the question. "You know I do," he said. "Don't act as if you haven't poked around in my head enough to know that."
Emma gave a slight nod, conceding the point. "Yes, it was a pastime you and your other telepath enjoyed," she admitted. "Sebastian was a fan as well -- something else you two had in common."
He narrowed his gaze at her statement. "I'm warning you -- "
She held up a hand. "My point is that he acted on his plans like he played chess," she quickly explained. "Every move he made was calculated, it was all in service toward his end game. Your decisions, while sound, are haphazard at best."
Erik crossed his arms over his chest. "Saving our people from persecution instead of killing everyone in a nuclear winter does involve a different skill set," he told her, still bristling under the Shaw comparison. For all that he might've agreed with some of Shaw's ideas about humans, to hear it painted in such terms unnerved him. Especially the way Emma did it so causally, it focused his attention uncomfortably on the similarities he shared with the man he most believed had deserved to die by his hands.
"If I believed you had a heart, Magneto, I'd say it wasn't in it," Emma said, after a moment, an odd look flickering over her features.
"In what?" he asked.
"This." She raised her arms in a gesture that seemed to encompass the entire room. "The plan, the mission, the crusade -- however you like to think of what we're doing."
"Emma..." he began, but she cut him off.
"The cause for the past few months is obvious: your attention has been split between what we're doing here and...elsewhere." She smiled again, something that seemed to be amusement at herself, for the way she'd hedged the end of her sentence. She continued. "We all know that. But I'm talking about even earlier. It's been almost two years and there's still no movement on what I thought what was your ultimate mission. But I haven't seen any sign that you're ever going to take this past what we are now: a small group of well-trained terrorists." Emma shook her head. "I'm used to bigger things, Magneto. Sebastian wanted to change the world."
To be compared to Shaw and found wanting on any subject made Erik flinch. "If there any way we can have this discussion without mention of him?" he growled.
"No, because you told me you believed in what he said," Emma pointed out. "You didn't want to follow the plans he laid. Fine, find your own way. But you haven't found that, either. Where's the revolution, Magneto? Why haven't we fired a shot heard around the world to let the humans know that the next stage of humans are ready to inherit the Earth?" She mirrored his pose, arms over her chest as she demanded, "What's holding you back?"
"It's not that simple, Emma," Erik told him, irritation creeping into his voice. "Are you ready to face that world? Where the humans are expecting us?"
"The point is, I thought you were."
Erik turned away, to look out over the ocean outside of his window. Despite the heavenly view it afforded, all he could see were memories of the deaths he'd seen at the hands of the Nazis, hear the cries of his people as they'd been murdered around him, reminders that spoke to the absolute certainty he had in how humans would react to mutants. "The war is...coming," he finally said. "I don't know when but the humans will never accept us peacefully, not the way Ch-- the way others think. There will be no avoiding it."
"I agree." Emma's voice was soft, almost emotive, unlike her usual cool tones. "But the war isn't necessarily going to happen tomorrow, not if we don't start it ourselves."
Erik glanced sharply down into her impassive face. "Are you saying you want to leave, Emma? Quit?"
Her expression still had that soft, thoughtful quality that reminded him more of Charles than Emma. "I've spent my entire life fighting someone or something," she told him. "First -- before, then with Sebastian, now with you." She looked up to meet his eyes. "I'm ready for the war, if it comes tomorrow. But I can't abide the tedium of this uncertainty. Either it's war, Magneto, or it's peace."
There was a hint of disapproval coming from Emma, a subtle telepathic emotion that mirrored the irritation in her words. Erik knew she was right when she said the war was not yet upon them, and they had not yet started it. He also knew what it was like to spend a lifetime fighting. Still that didn't mean he was ready to accept what Emma was inferring – that it was reluctance on his part to commit to the cause he'd found facing death on that Cuban beach almost two years before. He hadn't seen any other option at the time, and he still wasn't sure one existed for him.
Into the silence between them, he made his confession quietly. "I'm not made for peace," he told her, as if that was an answer to the question she posed.
"I know," Emma said. "But I think you want to be, probably for the first time in your life." She tapped idly at the glass she still held, one long nail against the cut crystal. "And why fight yourself when you don't have to?"
"So you're suggesting...what?" he asked. "That I pack it up and go hide away until the humans are ready kill us all?"
"I'm not suggesting anything," she said with a roll of her eyes, before continuing. "Well, that's not true -- I am saying that you need to make a decision. Decide where you want to be tomorrow and the next day and the next and what you want to be doing for those days. If that's this, then there's no reason to waste our time waiting any longer. If it's not..." Emma shrugged. "...go do whatever it is."
Erik could still feel the creep of her telepathic powers, the way she flung feelings and images at him to illustrate her words. It wasn't as smooth as Charles's powers or as seamless, but it hinted at what she knew he wanted but feared accepting. "And if what I want is to wait to a little longer before I start that war we both know is coming?"
"Then we'll stay in touch," she said, shifting to deposit her empty glass on a nearby table. "I've...grown rather fond of you, Magneto," she added. "You can go to New York to your telepath and your daughter and teach those boys of his how to really protect themselves for what's coming and I'll do something else."
Emma shrugged again. "I'm not opposed to postponing the war for a decade or two now that I've come to realize it won't be as simple as Sebastian expected. There are things I could be doing that are not this."
He couldn't help it; he laughed. "And what would Emma Frost do with a decade or two on her hands?"
His amusement earned him a measuring look. "Xavier's not the only one interested in shaping young mutants minds," she said, moving away from him and the window, toward the closed door. "Maybe I'll open my own school."
"It's always a contest with you, isn't it, Emma?" he asked, humor still threading through his voice
Emma didn't say anything else, but the sly smile she threw his way before she left said enough.
But Erik's amusement didn't last long because the mark of Emma's words still laid heavy on his mind, the stinging truth of what she'd come to tell him. They had reached that moment -- Erik had reached that moment where decisions needed to be made, perhaps the simplest decision of them all. It was one he'd thought he'd made on that beach, when he'd left Charles behind and taken Mystique by the hand, but Charles was not so easily forgotten, nor were his lessons, despite Erik's best attempts.
Still, he knew Emma was right: one way or another, Erik needed to make up his mind and stop wasting time. Be it his familiar war or the frightening aspect of peace, Erik Lehnsherr had some thinking to do on what came next.
It was with surprise that he realized he actually had time to do just that.
**
End of Part 11