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Five times Erik Lehnsherr lost something and the one time he won.
I
Erik is a small boy, even for his age. His Pawpaw was a small, slight man and his mama is a small thing as well. So, even if he’s ten, he looks like he’s around seven. Erik is a quiet soul, who enjoys helping his mother with the traditional household tasks.
He’s a mommy’s boy, and the neighborhood bully takes great pride in making him cry. (Fritz is going to die in three years. He’s going to be slowly crushed to death under a piece of metal because Shaw wants him to be angry and hurt. Wants him to kill. Erik will have to watch as he stops breathing; will have to smell his blood. Shaw will clap him on the shoulder and whisper, ‘good job’ into his ear. Fritz used to like singing alto in choir)
Today though, Fritz is acting differently. Eric thinks that it has to do with the men who came through the town yesterday – the ones with the uniforms and the angry voices who had cried out against the gypsy’s, the homeless, and the Jews. Erik supposes this last one must be the reason he’s currently sitting in a dark alleyway nursing a bleeding nose and a hurt arm. He sniffles a little bit. Why does Fritz have to be so mean all the time? What has he ever done to him? Crying a little, he staggers to his feet and fashions a makeshift band aid out of an old handkerchief that belonged to his father. He ignores the swift, plummeting sensation in his gut when he sees the flowers his mother had painstakingly sewed on become stained with blood. Eric quietly limps his way out of the darkness and walks down to his house. Along the way though, he has to ignore the jeers that the neighborhood gives him.
When Erik gets home, his mother hugs him with fervor, whispering thanks to the lord into his hair. Erik won’t understand why his mother seemed so scared he’s home safe, but he’ll learn in the morning that nice Mr. Stein from next door didn’t come home last night.
10-year-old Erik Lehnsherr is going to learn about hunger and fear and ice. This is just the beginning.
II
He’s been sitting in this little jail for five hours. He’s tired and frightened and scared.
Where’s his mama? Why is he here? The inside of this little room is entirely grey. Erik has already counted all the tiny cracks. His stomach rumbles uncomfortably. It’s nothing new, of course, just irritating. He wishes it would shut up for the last time.
Erik doesn’t like this place. Doesn’t like how he can feel the screams from the others through the ground. It reverberates in his ears and he can’t stand it. The sudden approach of footsteps makes him lift his head quickly. The guards approach his cell door in their shiny shoes. Erik feels like clawing their eyes out in his anger – his mama hasn’t been able to afford food to eat, let alone trivialities like shoe shine. His teeth grind, and above him, he can feel the metal squeaking in response. That makes him stop though, shrink back. He doesn’t understand what is happening to him.
In front of him though, one of the guards fumbles for the keys. Erik watches as his fingers flip through the others keys. There must be at least 90 on that one ring. Are there 90 other boys like him in these cells? Sitting scared, hungry, tired, and alone while the others roam free? The guard’s hands look large and capable, just like the rest of him. Eric sees red – he has to listen to his stomach grumble while this – this – this schwanz doesn’t have to feel the pinchbite of hunger?
When the door opens, Erik flies forward at the guards face. It’s a violent reminder of how his mother is gone from him, and people dressed like this man kept him away from her. Ignoring the yells of the other, he scratches red marks down the man’s face. Then however, pain blooms white hot in his side. He drops to the floor, gasping for breath. A second later, he figures out the other guard drove his baton into his ribs when he does it again. The heavy stick comes down hard and the dull thud echoes in the quiet. Erik lets out a little whimper of pain when both of them hoist him up by his arms and carry him off.
The pain is still hanging white over his eyes when they stop in front of a door marked ‘Herr Dokter’
12-year-old Erik Lehnsherr is about to meet the end of his life as he knew it.
III
Shaw.
As Erik watches the rotating blade, his fingers twisting and pulling, he muses on his creator.
Shaw.
It always comes back to Shaw, the monster that had locked him up.
Briefly, Erik spares a though for the children’s stories his mother had told him about before the small twinge of pain that brings shuts it down again. He bares his teeth at the white wall in anger. Shaw has placed him in this room in order to ‘center’ himself.
Erik can hear the groans and creaks of the other inmates through the window. It’s raining outside, but the gray people are pushing through the mud and slick anyway. Every so often, he will hear a dull thud, and close his eyes, mutter a little prayer for the one who fell.
Those who fall don’t get back up again.
The entire place smells like death. Death of a people, death of hope, deathdeathdeathdeathdeath. Erik feels it curling over his mind every time he stares Shaw in the eyes. Pictures that little coin pushing heavyhot into his body (the one that started everything, you idiot Erik, why didn’t you just move the coin?) In retrospect though, he supposes he has to be glad that his mother died the way she did. It was a quick death. No doubt if he hadn’t failed her, Shaw would have done more and worse to his once beautiful mama. Outside, he hears a small groan and keeps his eyes shut. Says goodbye to another one of his mother’s people.
Another dream is dead. Erik curses against everyone and everything that has led to this. Shaw’s face flashes before his eyes again.
14-year-old Erik Lehnsherr opens his eyes and drives the scalpel into the wall.
IV
The moment Shaw brings the little girl into the room, Erik says goodbye.
To his mother, to his father, to his people. To himself, mainly, because he knows that after this, Shaw is going to win.
Bringing humans into their sessions is old hat. Erik’s become no stranger to the pleasedon’tstopno that pours out of their mouths and eyes. He can close his eyes to that, no problem. Shaw is right. They are worthless, weak. He and others like him are better than them. More evolved.
Erik refuses to consider Shaw like him. Even though he may have become a monster, he’s never ever stolen something from someone defenseless, pathetic though their guns might have been. But the little girl, the little girl is different.
Shaw lets him talk to her, the son of a bitch. Erik has to ignore the rage that curls thick and heavy in his gut and focus on the little person in front of him. Her name is Leisha, and she’s eight. She has short, drab hair that someone must have brushed for her, because it’s neat and combed out. Maybe it was her mother, hands shaking as she whispers goodbyes against her hair. He pictures his own Mama’s hands trembling as they hold him tight against the people like Shaw. Erik has long given up on the protection of love. He knows anger and hate and vengeance now.
Erik glances up at Shaw, who is gazing upon the two of them like a benevolent uncle. Erik refocuses his attention to her. She’s talking about how she saw a little puppy run past the gates yesterday. His gaze dims when she mentions how the mean neighborhood boys had laughed at her. Erik’s hands are balled into little fists, but he nods and smiles at her. In his pocket, the metal coin reverberates incessantly.
Then, all of a sudden, he starts feeling peaceful. He looks down at the little girl (not Leisha. Can’t think of her as a person), who has placed a little hand over his. She gazes into his eyes, and he is shocked to hear her voice in his mind.
Don’t be angry. It’s okay. A little tendril of color hazes his mind. It’s rose pink, and it soothes the anger roiling in his mind. Dimly, he recognizes that she’s still talking, just in two places. She smiles at him, as he stares at her, shocked.
It’s okay. I understand. Other colors burst into his mind. Sky blue contentment, grey sadness, grass-green innocence. Dimly, Erik recognizes that he is going to kill her. He is going to kill her because he knows that if Shaw figures out what she is, this little girl is going to become like him, but worse.
Erik shivers at the possibilities that Shaw would inflict on a telepath. He looks at his maker one last time, before he turns to the little girl. He won’t kill her with his metal. Won’t take away the body that her soul was housed in. Daisy yellow acceptance blooms over him, and he knows that Leisha isn’t going to hold this against him.
Gently, he snaps her neck and she gives a little sigh. Her name was Leisha, she was eight, and she was a telepath. He cradles the memory of her to his chest when he stands and walks out of the room. For the first time in years, it doesn’t feel like defeat when Shaw compliments him, delighting in the monster he’s made. It feels like victory, because Erik has protected a little girl from hell. Shaw smiles and opens the door for him.
Erik senses the end of his hell nearing. He smiles at Shaw, before traveling past into the dark. Rose pink peace swirls at his temples, but it’s tempered with a gunmetal grey determination.
Leisha had dimples when she smiled. She was missing a front tooth and she wanted to be a dancer when she was older. Another dream has died.
25-year-old Eric Lehnsherr’s training is complete. Shaw has birthed a monster. What he doesn’t understand is that Erik? Doesn’t care anymore, he’s crossed that line, and now nothing is going to stop him from destroying this man.
Ten weeks later, he breathes fresh air for the first time in years.
V.
Charles Xavier is the funniest man Erik has ever met. Not counting his size – although, seriously. The man barely comes up to his shoulder. Erik doesn’t understand what he’s doing in the back of a truck filled with Special Forces. Charles looks like he could barely lift a gun, let alone fire one. And yet, there he is, and Erik finds himself pressed against one of the most confusing people he has ever met.
Charles Xavier is special. Erik can feel it. The man draws people to him like honey, but at the same time, people don’t know how to deal with him. Erik thinks it’s because he’s too intense. He looks at you like everything you say is going to measure on him; everything you do is going to impact him terribly. Even from the moment he had met him, Erik had felt that. Charles knew everyone. He couldn’t not know them, with a power like his. Charles carries the weight of everything on his shoulders, and it makes Erik want to protect him, or something.
At the same time though, it’s crippling Erik’s actions. He can’t constantly be keeping an eye out for another person. Just earlier, the soldiers had looked derisively at him, and Erik had had to trade a couple of threatening glances with them. He can’t kill without feeling a little tendril of guilt, which is severely irritating.
Erik will kill them; he just doesn’t want to deal with the emotions that Charles seems to inspire in him.
This brings him to the second point. Charles is just…different. Maybe it’s a result of his power, but it isn’t just that. Charles is different amongst those who are different, simply because he burns so bright with hope and peace. It’s like a beacon to the others, calling out ‘here is safety and acceptance. Here you will not be judged’.
Charles shines sometimes, and Erik has to catch his breath. Charles reminds him of lost opportunities, of the mother he lost. And of Leisha, but biggerbrighterbettermore. What Leisha would have been if Shaw hadn’t gotten to her. Charles burns with so much hopelovepeaceacceptancelovesafesafesafe that Erik has to stop and remind himself that those things don’t exist with anyone but himself.
Charles is dangerous.
Erik stares at the man sitting next to him. He’s small and compact, but at the same time, he explodes with life. As if sensing Erik’s gaze, he turns his eyes and smiles, question on his lips. Bright blue shines, even in the dark light. Erik looks away quickly. He feels Charles shrug and leave it at that. Erik has to wonder – how can this man be so good?
He looks back at Charles, who is talking quietly to a soldier, comforting him. Then the wagon lurches to a stop. They’re being pulled over, and Moira is apologizing frantically in the front seat. Erik tenses, ready to spring forward the second the doors fly open, and he can see the others do the same. Charles shushes them and leans forward.
Three minutes later, the men’s looks have turned from derision to fear and awe. Erik himself can’t believe what just happened. He just stares at Charles. Charles, the unassuming, slightly quirky man that just saved all of their lives.
It’s…it’s….
It’s absolutely fucking terrifying. How can one man do that? Erik isn’t scared of much, and he knows that what he has left is pitiful at best, but damn it. His mind is his own, and the thought that someone could just make him think that something wasn’t there is petrifying. It had been a compulsorily pat of congratulations on the back, when he had been too stunned to think of anything else. Now though – he swings his head over to face Charles.
Bright blue meets him. Charles looks tired and drained, like a wind could knock him over. Erik kind of wants to take him home and wrap him in blankets, protect him from the world, which is absurd. Eric scans his face, searching for signs of what he can do. There are smudges under his eyes, but nothing unusual. As if sensing what he’s looking for, Charles gives him a sardonic smile. But his eyes fill with disappointment and sadness, and suddenly Erik can hear a light refrain of stupiddumbhowcouldyouwhatswrongnevergoingtotrustyouagainrunalonealonealone. Then, as soon as it comes it’s gone, and Charles is staring at him, wide-eyed. He tosses Erik a smile and faces forward again, back straight. Erik gapes at him silently. How can Charles feel like that? Was it even him?
A surge of anger washes over him as he considers the implications of what just happened. Charles thinks he’s going to run away from him. Fuck that noise, Erik is no coward, and he knows that Charles is a good man. In fact, he’s filling with indignation on Charles’s behalf. Obviously, something must have happened in his past that made him scared to trust people deeply, and if he and Erik are going to be a team, then they have to trust each other.
Silently, he slips a hand over Charles’s briefly. The other man startles and turns to look at him. But by that time, Erik has his hand back and is looking forward. He can feel Charles’s scrutiny on his face for a couple of seconds before the man looks away. When Erik looks back, Charles is smiling at the floor. It’s beautiful, and Erik smiles a little himself and decides.
He is going to do everything in his power to protect this beautifulquirkybrighthopefulloved man from monsters like Shaw. Charles may not appreciate it, but he’s just fueling Erik’s desire to kill Shaw. Erik vows that Shaw will not taint the man next to him, because Erik protects what’s his. But at the same time, he can’t help but shake the impression that he’s losing something big. Likes he’s failing Charles somehow, and that just isn’t going to work. He feels like he’s tumbling head first into something that he isn’t going to be able to control, and it’s terrifying. It’s like he’s fighting something huge and dark, but he doesn’t know what it is.
Twenty minutes later, when Charles bursts into the room behind him, Erik has to calm the flicker beat of his heart. That’s when Erik realizes – he’s already lost to this quirky man-child.
37-year-old Erik Lehnsherr isn’t a good person by far, but he sees the best in Charles Xavier, and he’s going to make sure that nothing happens to that light.
And the one time he kicked ass and everyone knew it.
Shaw is dead.
It’s a thought that keeps running through his mind as he laughs triumphantly. Shaw is dead, the coin on the floor stained red with his blood.
His mother is avenged at last. Leisha is avenged. Charles and the others will never know the pain that lies behind Shaw’s smile.
Erik’s chest feels light and free. All the anger that has been swirling in his gut in gone now, gone with the last tear he wiped away. Gone in those three small numbers. It’s glorious, and Erik will revel in the feeling later.
Now however, he has to go and deal with those pathetic humans. Carefully, he levitates Shaw by his cufflinks and starts his walk down through the side of the submarine. Metal flies out before him, with barely a gesture on his part. And then, he is out of the musty submarine air, and breathing sea salt and freedom. Nothing will bring him down from this. Except – oh.
Charles is wrong again. The humans are planning on killing them, and it’s time to end these silly games. Slowly, he floats downwards. He turns to face the mutants – they are all family now, in some way. Those who fought against him and those who fought with him. By sheer fate, they have been brought together because of their genetics. They are his brothers, and he addresses them as such.
Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Charles stumble out of the jet and smiles softly, before finishing up his speech.
“Tell me I’m wrong, Charles,” he challenges. Charles spares him a glance before he raises two fingers to his temple. Erik frowns – Charles looks absolutely wrecked. Moira places a gentle hand on his friend’s shoulder and steadies him. Erik isn’t happy with this, but subsides. Charles removes his fingers from his temples and looks down. Erik smiles triumphantly and carries on, not sparing another glance for Charles.
He has won. Erik has won and Charles agrees with him. But then, Erik looks back at his – friend. Charles has his fingers back to his temples, and his eyes are squeezed shut. Moira has stepped back, and is looking at him in concern. Erik feels a stir of nerves in his stomach – what is Charles doing? The beach falls silent around them, all eyes on him. Then, he feels the guns in the humans’ ships stop, and he instantly knows what Charles is doing.
“No,” he whispers. Charles isn’t strong enough for this, isn’t strong enough for what he must be planning to do. The fool is going to kill himself!
Charles starts screaming. It’s a high-pitched, animalistic noise and Erik winces to hear it. It screams of desperation and fear, sadness and painpainpain. Erik turns slowly – too slowly, he feels like he’s moving through syrup – to face the one man he trusts.
Charles’s head is thrown back, and his eyes are clenched shut with pain. Dirt covers every part of his body, but except for a scratch near his temple, he looks unharmed. However, tears are leaking past his shut eyelids and Erik instinctively knows that Charles is in too much pain to even bear thinking about. Behind him, Raven screams as well.
“Charles!”
He flings her back, running forward himself – he needs to be the one to make sure Charles is okay. The second he reaches Charles though, the other man gives a shudder and stops. There’s a horrible moment where he just pauses and stares at the sky, beautiful, bright eyes blank. Erik watches with his heart in his throat. Where is Charles now? What has he done? Erik doesn’t know what he’s going to do if Charles’s mind doesn’t return. Then Charles gasps, and the world starts to move again. Only, Charles crumples to the floor and Erik has to reach out in panic. Charles is on the ground now, but Erik cradles him in his arms and holds on tight.
Charles is full on sobbing now, shaking from the pain he feels. Erik is panicking, because he doesn’t know where the pain is coming from. Doesn’t know how to help him. Moira crouches down beside him, but he pays her no attention. His mind is buzzing with a litany of CharlesCharlesohGodDon’tleaveme!
Charles coughs a little, and his eyes meet Erik’s. They look tired, more tired than Erik has ever seen them. Charles starts to talk, and Erik feels like shouting at him.
“Mutants – they won’t…remember,” Charles says. Is that what he’s done? Has he made everyone forget? Charles smiles a little and - oh God, he’s coughing up blood. Erik feels like screaming. He can’t lose Charles.
“No one… is going…to…die anymore.”
Wrong. Charles is, Charles is going to die and he’s going to leave Erik by himself. Charles is going to die in his arms and it’s going to be his fault because Erik couldn’t protect him from himself. Charles eyes begin to slip shut, and Erik can’t bear it anymore. He leans forward and presses a kiss to Charles’s mouth.
It’s wet and desperate, and tastes like tears and sadness and fear. But at the same time, Erik gives a little sigh, and for a moment he is just a person who has kissed the one he loves. Beside him, he can hear Moira gasp. Charles’s eyes snap open and he stares at Erik. For a second, Erik doubts everything he ever thought he knew about Charles. Then, he gives a little laugh and says:
“Did you really think I was going to leave you alone? There’s so much left to be done!” Charles gives him a beatific smile and Erik huffs a little laugh into his chest. Then, he feels Charles give a little shudder and fall still. Carefully, heart pounding in his throat, he draws back. Charles is still breathing, but barely. Erik seeks out his pulse and it flutters weakly under his fingers.
Erik stands and shakes off his doubts. First and foremost, he is going to save Charles. Then, he’ll figure out what they’re going to do.
“Come here!” He barks at Azazel, who walks forward unsurely. The others stand back, and Erik frowns a little.
“How many people can you transport and how far?” he demands. The red man gives a smile and tells him that he isn’t limited by something as small as distance or size. Erik thanks him and faces the rest.
“You have a choice now. Come with us. Be amongst those who can understand you and protect you from the humans. Come with me, and you will never have to stand alone again.”
Sean, Hank, Alex and Raven immediately walk forward. Sean is limping a little, and Erik nods at him, discontent pulsing in his mind. Another injury he’ll have to look after. But then he remembers Charles’s last couple of words and he accepts it. He’ll protect these people for Charles and him.
“Hey, dude?” Alex whispers to him. Erik startles, and turns to face him. Havoc is staring grimly at the sky. “You and Charles are gonna have a tough time finding acceptance together, you know?” Erik nods once – he understands that being gay isn’t acceptable at all to most people, and he’s prepared to deal with the consequences. It doesn’t matter what humans think. Belatedly, he realizes that the others’ opinions actually matter to him. He would be genuinely saddened if he had to kill one for making Charles unhappy.
“I got your back though, dude. I understand,” Havoc continues, flicking a little glance over to where Hank stands. Erik is surprised, but watches Alex carefully. The boy continues staring at the sky though, and nothing more is said.
Finally, Angel starts to walk over. He nods at her – can’t blame her for wanting to stay on the side that didn’t offer scorn and derision. Riptide walks over as well. There, all of the mutants joined as one. For a second, Erik imagines what they must look like: One tall, blond man carrying a slight dark-haired man in his arms, surrounded by two people wearing yellow lycra jumpsuits, a large furry blue beast, a red-skinned man with a tail, a blue-skinned girl, a girl with pixie wings, and a man wearing a suit. It’s a funny image, but he realizes that someone is missing.
He turns to the side, and faces Moira. She’s standing there, staring at them. He sighs and says,
“Would you like to come with us?” She blinks a bit. Then, she drops a tender gaze to the man in his arms and looks back at him. He stares back, un-intimidated and unapologetic. There isn’t any reason to hide anymore. At last though, she smiles and reaches out a hand. Azazel grabs it, and Erik enjoys the momentary confusion the red man displays when Moira doesn’t flinch. Then, in one last flash, they are on their way.
Charles would be proud.