[ post df ]

[axiomed]

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[ immediately after the fleet ]

[axiomed]

[ When Charles woke up, his face was wet. He didn't know what to make of it as he scrubbed his face of sleep. He pushes himself up on his elbows and notices —

— that this is his room. His real room, back in the mansion. As if a floodgate had opened, he could feel his students still sleeping, tucked away in their beds. Daydreaming about tests and outings, of breakfasts and playdates. With a choked hysterical laugh, he buried his face in his hands, overwhelmed. He was back. He was where he belonged. But he needed a moment to weep. After a few minutes, he wipes his face once more and starts reasserting himself. At least there'll be no more surprises. Just him and his students.

This is where he was meant to be. Certainly not in some ship light years away. Not trying to reach for possibilities that he could never bring back. He reaches for his clothes, always within arms reach. It'll take him more than an hour to reassert him back into the routine, but Charles is nothing but adaptable these days. ]

[exothermia]

[Half a mansion away, Erik turns over in his sleep, and it's the odd sensation of comfortable bedding that jerks him awake. He lies completely frozen for several moments, staring at the dim morning light filtering through the curtains. 'Given the opportunity to be more modern, you had to pick the same ancient curtain style,' he had sighed to Charles shortly after rebuilding the mansion, shaking his head at the old fashioned patterns.

This is a nightmare. A dream. Only Erik doesn't have dreams like this, not about the school. Slowly he sits up, the covers falling away. His gaze lands on a small pile of things arranged neatly on the floor. He recognises them - items from the Fleet, and the bag he'd left in Poland.

He's been sent back.

He ought to feel relieved, or surprised, or something else. In days gone by he'd be on his feet by now trying to seek answers. Instead he's caught in a spike of instability, because he wasn't expecting this. He had been sitting in Charles's room on the Heron, working on a sketch as Charles lay comatose nearby. It could be a trick. Another hallucination. Or it could be what it looks like.

Erik lets out a shuddering breath, and buries his face in his hands.]

[axiomed]

[ His telepathy slowly sinks into the bones of the school, like a heavy blanket. In this, Charles rarely holds back, whether the students know or not. Their safety came first. Quietly, he checks them off the mental list as he wheels down the corridor when he feels a mind familiar to him.

He pauses.

Surely Charles imagined it? . . . No, there it was. The steady hum of a mind he knew as well as his own. His breath catches slightly before he reaches out. ]

Erik?

[exothermia]

[Erik lowers his hands and looks towards the door, pointless though it is. Hearing Charles doesn't mean he's right outside. But it does anchor him somewhat in the reality he's seeing. It's a foolish bias, to think that no hallucination could replicate the sensation of Charles calling to him in his own mind. It's one he still doesn't question.]

I'm here.

[He says it quietly, knowing it won't be heard by anyone else (this whole school he's suddenly back in the midst of). Absently he reaches behind his head and starts pressing behind his ear, searching for the signs of the augment.]

[axiomed]

I'll be right there.

[ The words come out automatically. He doesn't second-guess it or think twice, just moves his chair forward. He finds himself missing his special chair that moved so smoothly. Finally, he finds himself in front of Erik's room, Erik's old room, trying to catch his breath. His fingers shake as he pushes the door open.

And Erik is here. He can't help staring even as his breath comes out in short puffs. ]

You're here.

[exothermia]

[He exhales sharply as Charles comes through the door, because it solidifies that this is really happening. It's happened. They've come back, and Charles isn't in a coma, and there's no invasive piece of technology lodged in the back of his skull. A hundred other thoughts want to follow that, chain reactions from acknowledging the shift. None of them quite make it through just yet.

Erik twists his fingers together in his lap, and says the only thing he can think of, seeing the look on Charles's face.]

Welcome home.

[axiomed]

[ A wheelchair, sadly, isn't built for quick movement. No matter how proficient he's gotten, rushing over when you're caught up in the moment doesn't translate well in real life. Charles winces at every squeak but he pushes it out of his mind when he's close enough, their knees barely touching. His fingers move to trace Erik's face as Charles smiles slowly. ]

I'm home with you.

[exothermia]

[It may not translate well to action, but in Charles's expression it's crystal clear. Erik swallows past the lump in his throat and leans forward, wrapping his arms around Charles's middle.]

Yeah.

[It's hard to say much more, when he doesn't have the words for it. Erik knows it's home for him now - it will take longer to really adjust to it. He ought to have known, even as he was writing his letters, that this could happen suddenly.]

[axiomed]

[ He rests his hands on Erik's shoulders, his thumbs brushing against Erik's cheeks quietly. They're both a little overwhelmed, Charles knows. But the relief that wells up in him is even greater. They're both here, they both remember, it wasn't all twisted beyond . . . well beyond his darkest fears.

He presses his forehead against Erik's. ]

I've got you. It'll be all right, darling.

[a few weeks later]

[exothermia]

[Being part of the school wasn't something Erik could simply dive into, but he'd made an attempt to start. His first actions after returning from the Fleet had been more practical, personal: writing down what he remembered from his time in space, lest he forget it again. Reorganising his room with the items he'd returned with. Spending time with Charles as the other man got his head around the school again. After a few days of that, Erik had re-introduced himself to the school body proper. He didn't bother saying what his role was, as that was still amorphous. But soon enough the students knew that he was doing gardening work. It suited him well enough.

And things went well, for a while. He kept up his painting and drawing when time allowed, and when he felt fractured. If nothing else he would always thank Wrath for teaching him this skill, the best he has for keeping his worse problems at bay.

In the last week or so he's grown quiet, though. He still shows up for meals and does his work around the grounds. But he's looking more and more tired, shadows building under his eyes. He says nothing about it.

This evening he's in the kitchen, watching the kettle boil in silence. Most everyone else has gone to bed.]

[axiomed]

[ There's an unconscious pull at the back of Charles' mind that made it difficult to sleep. He's not sure how he found himself in the kitchens, led by the silent tug. When you're used to a certain harmony in the mind, it is easy to feel off-balance when one mind has gone astray. Especially one Charles knows so well. He watches Erik at first before moving over to move the kettle off the fire. ]

Tea?

[exothermia]

[Erik startles a bit at the sudden move to take the kettle, and for a moment he stares at Charles like he's some strange interloper. His mind catches up to him and he relaxes a bit, nodding. Reaching over, he picks up the kettle with a cloth and pours the boiling water into his waiting teacup.

He's too distracted, lately.]

Yes. I'm going to read a book.

[axiomed]

[ He hums lightly. ]

Can't sleep?

[ There's something wrapped around the edges of Erik's mind. Charles suspects what it might be, but he knows better to voice what might be in the mind. ]

[exothermia]

I haven't tried yet.

[That's honest, at least.]

[axiomed]

Is there a reason why?

[ Charles presses gently. ]

You seem quieter these days.

[exothermia]

[He pauses in the middle of stirring milk into the tea, his jaw clenching slightly. It's not so much irritation at the question as a sensation of skirting a topic neither of them would really like to explore. For Erik, he has no choice, but for Charles... he removes his spoon and picks up the teacup.]

Bad dreams.

[That's true as well. His nightmares have been creeping back in again; never entirely gone, but more insistent and paralysing the last few days.]

[axiomed]

[ He sets his own cup down next to Erik's quietly, a move to show that he's not going anywhere any time soon. The sound seems to echo to the silence around them. ]

I could help with that.

[late september]

[exothermia]

[When the one year mark of his family's deaths came around, Erik had absented himself from the mansion. He said nothing about it; just left through his window in the dead of the morning, and didn't return until the late hours of the night. He'd be hard pressed to recall much of what he did in the time in between. After getting back into his room at night, he'd had enough sense to remove his shoes before falling into bed.

Morning dawns, and Erik doesn't make an appearance anywhere for a while yet. He sleeps longer than the norm, but on another level he's still avoiding the children streaming through the halls. It's after ten when he finally heads down to the deserted kitchen, making himself some food and taking it into the equally empty dining room.

Erik picks at his cereal, staring out the window at the rain falling outside. He knows Charles doesn't have a class at this time. He expects he'll come around soon enough.]

[axiomed]

[ When Erik leaves, Charles' first thought is he's gone, he finally left — before he pushes it to the side. He knew what day it was and he knew what it meant for Erik. So he busied himself, even as he stretched his telepathy as far as he could. Just in case, he told himself.

When he wakes up in the morning, his mind instinctively finds Erik. He dresses himself quietly before making his way downstairs. Charles can't help staring at Erik a little before he clears his throat, looking away. ]

Would you like some tea?

[exothermia]

[It takes Erik a moment to drag his gaze away from the window and look to Charles. The heavy tiredness of the last couple of weeks still line his features, though his expression is clearer than it would have been yesterday. After a moment, he shakes his head.]

No, that's all right. ... you can join me, though.

[axiomed]

[ Charles hesitates before moving his wheelchair over until he is side by side with Erik, looking him over in transparent concern. ]

How are you feeling?

[exothermia]

[Erik toys with his spoon, pushing the corn flakes around. Truth be told, that hollowed-out emptiness he had felt yesterday hasn't fully gone away. The edges have been blunted but his mood is still bleak. Much like the rain outside. There are different degrees of it, though, and he's past the worst of it.]

Not very good.

[axiomed]

[ Well. That is to be expected. Charles reaches out to lightly card his fingers through Erik's hair. ]

I'm sorry.

[exothermia]

[He blows out a sigh, letting his shoulders relax a bit under the touch. He hadn't imagined this as a confrontation, not by any means. It still makes him tense, with the ugly leftover feelings from yesterday.

Erik looks at Charles out of the corner of his eye.]

I woke up this morning and reminded myself that it's September. That date - it's happened for me, but in reality it's only been two months. You'd think that kind of confusion would make it worse.

[Strangely, it doesn't.]

[axiomed]

It's hard to know what makes it worse and what doesn't.

[ For Charles, the dates had stopped mattering. When the school collapsed, everything went hazy. If there was any recognition, it immediately melted away for the next dose. The next drink. ]

Sometimes it just . . . doesn't match up.