Charles Xavier | Professor X (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
axiomed) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
shamechamber2016-05-23 05:16 pm
axiomed) wrote in shamechamber2016-05-23 05:16 pmEntry tags:
(no subject)
[ x-men apocalypse spoilers stuff goes here ]
axiomed) wrote in shamechamber2016-05-23 05:16 pm
[Cairo]
En Sabah Nur is dust now as well. May well be lingering in the air Erik breathes. He breathes in all the same, imagining he can taste the death on his tongue. It's something. If he can focus on dust, he can focus on other things, with time.
The others are beginning to move from where they had fallen. Raven and Hank stirring, starting to croak out questions on each other's welfare. The two other boys do the same, though the silver-haired one is grounded by his leg. Erik watches him briefly, the pain etched into his young face. He had come, along with Raven, to try and pull him from his depths of despair. Haul him out of the thrall of a 'god'. It felt like he'd come up for air after a lifetime under water.
Under dust.
He shakes his head once, a slight irritation, until he's reminded of the helmet. He takes another breath and reaches up to yank it off, throwing it to the side. The gloves come next. Beside him, Ororo was giving him a look of mingled incredulity and understanding. She began to unsnap her wristguards too.]
Re: [Cairo]
They had never been this close before. They had shared many things, things only telepaths like themselves could understand. He hadn't let her in because he had to be strong. Protect his school.
But they did a better job protecting him. Lingering fear and relief was in the air and he moved about it, soothing what he could. There's little else he could do. Then he turned to Erik. With a careful touch, he asks, tentative, are you all right? ]
Re: [Cairo]
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[Embassy]
One of the meeting rooms had been hastily set aside for them; one of the better ones, truth be told. It had a handful of plush sofas, a desk with an armchair, and other chairs scattered about ready for meetings to be held. It was here the doctor had checked them all over, and here they got to rest. Peter had been in the worst condition, with no real materials to make him a cast. A splint had been set on his leg in the meantime - not without endless complaining. Charles's gashes had been cleaned, Raven's neck checked for serious injury.
When the doctor had turned his attention to Erik, he had immediately tried to wave him off, grating out that he wasn't injured. The doctor had been undeterred, even in the face of having to check Erik Lehnsherr over for his health. He had told "Mr Lehnsherr" that it was routine and needed to be done. So he had, with much internal tension and a small amount of shying away from touch and lights shined in his eyes, been checked on. After a minute of this the doctor had changed his approach, instead stating what he was going to do before doing it. It helped, somewhat. He had been passed a glass of water and told in no uncertain terms that he needed to drink it. Then it was done.
Sleep had been the last thing on Erik's mind, yet it had only taken minutes after that ordeal for him to finally pass out. Now he was sleeping in one of the chairs, twisted a bit in order to rest his head on the arm of the neighbouring couch. The doctor was writing up his notes, almost done here.]
Re: [Embassy]
( he doesn't want to see En-Sabah-Nur in his dreams )
And he was reluctant to take his eyes off his students. Raven.
He's never been so relieved to be alive. ]
Re: [Embassy]
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[ two weeks later ]
There's a vigil for Alex (poor Alex, who had insisted on coming with Charles to see Moira, who had looked knowingly but never made fun of him, the boy who couldn't control his powers and had them at his fingertips), phonecalls made to parents and construction companies. Erik had stepped forward and Jean nodded her assent.
Two weeks later, things were finally underway and Charles released his draconian grip on the situation. He hadn't talked to Erik much. He left his offer open and honestly, he was a little surprised that the man was still here.
Charles didn't know what to do. He didn't know. His loss was different, ten years ago, and ten years before that. And pain wasn't meant to be compared. But he continued from time to time to check up on the man, discreetly. Nothing telepathic. Just quiet reassurances.
It's absurd, and Charles doesn't know whether to laugh or cry about it. Two of the people he loved the most and he had nothing to give them. ]
Re: [ two weeks later ]
Personal items, furniture, linens, school books. A huge number of things were rescued from the bottom. The next day, Jean and Erik had started the real work. Excavating the hole of all usable pieces, lining them up on the lawn. And then begun shaping the skeleton of the lower levels with the brand new piles of metal Charles had ordered. How he'd managed to get them in so quickly was anyone's guess. Money talks, Erik supposes.
At the end of a long day, Erik had sent Jean back ahead of him to the other campus. He found that he didn't mind working with her; had begun to enjoy it, nearly. Sometimes she would give him a knowing smile, the kind only telepaths could give. Charles did it, Emma had done it. So did Jean.
The sun had set, painting the sky scarlet in its wake. He watched it for a while, as he stood below ground. The sound of birdsong rose in the distance.
He shut his eyes. It didn't hurt quite as much anymore, to hear it.]
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[ shopping trip ]
Are you sure about this?
Re: [ shopping trip ]
The truth was that he wasn't sure about this, going outside of the mansion grounds and into a place where he ran the risk of being identified. Reports on his actions had been everywhere in the aftermath of En Sabah Nur's defeat, and they ranged wildly in tone. Erik Lehnsherr had aided a group of mutants in stopping him; Erik Lehnsherr had fought with them from the start; Erik Lehnsherr was surely behind the magnetic phenomenon that had torn down buildings and killed thousands; Erik Lehnsherr had been an unwilling participant in a madman's actions. There were as many opinions as there were humans. He didn't pay it much attention... didn't care about the world's opinion of him as much as he once did.
But if he wasn't sure about this, then the same could be said about everything else. So what use was it to avoid a task like shopping? He turns his head back to look out the window, across the parking lot of the mall.]
If you'd prefer that I stay in the car...
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[ two months post xma ]
For now, he is content to use Cerebro and keep recruitment up. There's enough help in the school that he's not needed for any lesson, though Charles enjoys teaching a lot. Still, he finds that he is happiest in Cerebro, connected to the world. He had been afraid that En-Sabah-Nur would have wrested that feeling away, after being used to project his message.
But the lights remain strong in his heart. As always he briefly passes by Erik before moving on. They had all moved on, in a way. But some things won't change and he knew that for a fact. ]
Re: [ two months post xma ]
Charles's next encounter with Erik wouldn't be through Cerebro at all. It would be through a brief news report about the reconstruction happening Cairo. "As recent developments would have it, the well-known fugitive Erik Lehnsherr has recently been sighted right here in the city, around the pyramid demolition works. Local government refuses to be drawn on whether the mutant otherwise known as Magneto is there with permission or not, and unfortunately any cameras brought near the area continue to malfunction..."]
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February, 1984
It doesn't bother him. There are worse things in life. Partway through January, he pens another letter to the mansion. It arrives in the mailbox a couple of weeks later.]
Re: February, 1984
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March, 1984
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April 1984
Their recent one ended badly. Scott has broken his leg and Jean came back, bright-eyed and furious (not angry at him, but angry nevertheless). He spends long hours in the infirmary, talking to each one of them before retiring. But he couldn't sleep. So he pulls out his fine scotch and pours it into a glass, staring at the window.
Here he was, sending children into battle. Into battles he can't fight. He slams his glass against the table and on a whim, finds himself heading down to the Danger Room. He activates the Sentinels and watches them coolly. Watching them point the barrel of their guns before he says the turn off protocols. There's a furious thrum of anger and energy under his skin he doesn't know how to extinguish. Finally, he leaves the Danger Room quietly. ]
Re: April 1984
He's reading in his room when he feels the Danger Room systems activate. Not all of it is built from metal; Charles and Raven had been specific in their designs. Enough of it is that he can tell when the Sentinels activate, far later in the night than they have any reason to be.
So he heads downstairs, and he's standing in the hallway of the lower levels when Charles emerges. Waiting.]
Re: April 1984
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June, 1984
Over the next few weeks, he walks. The physical activity suits his purposes, which aren't many. He crosses north into Canada and the vast wilderness up there. Sometimes he picks up odd jobs, when he can be sure he won't be recognised. Enough to get money to live off before moving on again. He sends a postcard to the school from Quebec City in early June. Otherwise, he keeps his own counsel. Especially on that grey day that marks the anniversary of his family's deaths.
And yet, he gets through it, though he hardly remembers how. He starts reviving himself afterwards, getting back to the logging job he'd found a week before. If only a certain William Stryker, acting off a tip that Magneto was in the area, hadn't caught up with him.]
Re: June, 1984
And then he hears it - Magneto. He zeroes in on that thought. Sightings. And then destruction near a logging camp. The trail leads off into the woods. Armed with that information, Charles deploys the X-Men.
Erik. Surely not. ]
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July, 1984
He helps in the Danger Room repairs. He talks to Raven. He avoids group dinners, but will eat in the kitchen. He reads in the library. He talk with Charles in the evenings, and plays chess with him.
Restlessness itches at the corners of his mind, but he ignores it as best he can. By degrees, he stops feeling like he has to get up and leave.]
no subject
He twirls the knight before setting it down. ]
How are you feeling?
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September, 1984
His hands healed. He fixed the Sentinel he had broken. Many of his habits around the mansion don't change, but some of them shift a little. A couple of times a week he shows up for a staff meal. When Raven asks for help with some battle strategies, he talks her through it. More than that, he finally reads some of the books Charles had pointed out to him.
Shell shock. Traumatic stress. Familiar ideas, for all their ugliness.
He's more aware now of what's happening when his heart beats too fast, and everything seems to bleed with danger and the threat of exposure. There's little he can do about it, except take himself out of the situation as fast as possible. Often he'll retreat to Charles's office, whether the other man is there or not. It's a step forward, at the very least. And his mood is improved on the last couple of months.
The season changes and school begins again.]
Re: September, 1984
So he spends more time with Cerebro. He can afford to, with the additional staff he's hired over the summer. He steps out for a bite or two, checks on the children at night as per his normal routine.
But every day, he finds himself back in Cerebro, scrying, searching. He hated this feeling of helplessness. It's a feeling he's had to live with. Though his powers somewhat compound that, the landscape was changing.
How long would it be until he was powerless? He slumps in his chair, leaving the helmet on. His voice hurt. His head hurt. ]
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December 1984
Still, as the holidays draw closer and snow starts to drift into the school grounds, he grows a bit quiet. Many of the students have gone home to their families over the break, but a sizable number still remain. The school has been decorated for Christmas, and provisions have been made for students of other faiths. There are a few Jewish students present, and Erik knows they'll have their own Hanukkah ceremony. He chooses not to attend, feeling it inappropriate for him to intrude on their celebration when his own faith is fractured at best. He does pause on that first night in the doorway of the library, watching them light the first candle.
He moves on, up to Charles's office.]
Re: December 1984
He sets up the menorah in a corner, lighting the candle. It felt . . . appropriate, in a way. Charles remembers the quiet golden memory at the back of Erik's mind. ]
Oh Erik. Come on in.
Re: December 1984
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January, 1985
I have a favour to ask.
Re: January, 1985
Of course, anything. What is it?
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January, 1985
When the lunch break comes, Erik nearly retires to the room, but decides to slip into the dining hall. He's been unnoticed so far, but even he didn't expect that to last for long. Two mutants do recognise him, and come over to speak to him. Some of his nerves fray; not all of them. And it eases his heart somewhat to have conversations with his people. He loosens up, by degrees.]
no subject
When he spots Erik, he considers waving him over but decided against it. Erik finally seemed to be relaxing and they spend enough time together as it is. ]
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[ Greece, the morning after ]
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[January, 1985]
Then they arrive home, and are pulled into the rush of daily life.]
Re: [January, 1985]
Still, the paces evens out and he makes it a point to seek out Erik in the evenings, when the children have worn themselves out. ]
Re: [January, 1985]
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AU - June, 1983
In the near darkness of his house (his home, their home, no one's), Erik can hear the faint twittering in the early dawn. If he had any stomach left, he'd be sick to it. The birds had fled when Nina died. That they could reappear now, singing like nothing had happened... her friends got to live. She hadn't.
He doesn't remember coming back here. He remembers... shoveling. Dirt. Settling them into the ground, the bed linens covering the ground under their backs. I'm sorry, breathed out through gritted teeth, as he tossed the first shovelful of dirt on. I'm sorry again, with each and every one after. Now he's here, in his bedroom. The sheets and blankets gone; stripped earlier in the night, to make a poor coffin. Strewn around the floor are pieces from the emergency drawer. That's how he'd thought of it, what he'd told Magda it was for when he first filled it years ago with fake passports and limited cash. A drawer of last resort, if they had to run. "But we won't need to, Henryk." She had touched his face, stroking his cheek. "It's okay."
He bends down to pick up his wallet, flipping it open. Money and notes stick out of it, all of it pointless. A card. He pulled it out, stared at the crumpled Xavier logo on the front. Something from a lifetime ago.
The chilly light of early morning was filtering through the open curtains in the lounge. Erik sits down in the armchair - his - card still in his hand. There's an address and a phone number on the front, nothing he can read right now. He knows what it says. After moments - minutes - he turns the card over. Another number is written on the back in pen.
"The other one is for the office. This one is-- well, I have a phone in my room. If you ever want to get in touch."
Erik had only called the number twice, in all these years. Once, after he got married. And once more, after Nina was born. After that... he couldn't run the risk. This was Poland, and calls to America were suspicious. Even those he'd made at payphones in Warsaw, a trip he couldn't afford to make so often.
The phone is in his hand. He dials the number, listens to the ringing on the line with silence in his mouth and death in his heart.]
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Hello?
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[ AU: A month later ]
Still, he leaves open invitations. Not every evening, but maybe twice a week, Charles would invite Erik up to his study. ]
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Things got better from there, but slowly. He doesn't think the heartache and the grief will ever go away. Once he moves back into his old room, the pressure eases a bit. He takes some solace in the familiarity, the personal trinkets he'd left here years ago that still remained. The frame with the photo of his family that he'd taken from Poland goes onto the shelf, eventually. Takes its place among the relics of the lost connections.
Erik doesn't always visit Charles when he makes his invitations. Some nights are too difficult, and those times he stays away. More often than not, he goes. In the beginning he wasn't sure why, as all he could do was sit there in silence and listen to Charles talk about the school and the children. Let himself be anchored by the other man's presence. One night, Erik interrupts, and from there they start to talk.
A week ago, Erik had broached the topic of his family. Only briefly. Again, the pressure eased slightly. Erik knows he's muddling his way through... whatever this is, now, but where there's purchase he has to take hold of it, climb out of this pit. Inch by inch.
It's a warm summer night now. Erik stirs his tea a little, watching the milk blend into the water. He lets out a breath.]
Hank said the cast can come off in two weeks.
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AU - December 1983
He repaired foundations that needed work. He did maintenance on Cerebro that would otherwise require a scaffold to be erected. He built a new playground when the old one was unfortunately melted into a blob by Alex Summers' younger brother. He wasn't a teacher, and that suited him fine. Being the handyman of the school was a better fit for him in this moment than anything else. The children were wary at first, but after this long they had gotten used to him - and no small amount of corrections by Charles had helped, he assumed. Erik didn't deserve his place here. Still, he wouldn't give it up anymore. He smiled more, learned to laugh again.
New Year's Eve arrived, and the festivities were hard to ignore. The children were allowed to stay up until midnight, and there were fireworks to be had at the magic hour. It was getting close now, and Erik and Charles were waiting for it along on the patio that opened onto the grounds, watching the kids run to and fro in the snowy lawns below. Erik shakes his head and finishes his glass of scotch, eyeing one of the more boisterous games of tag.]
You know Brendan's never going to listen to you if you keep being pleasant to him. That boy needs firmer guidance.
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Erik, he's ten years old.
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