Narrative: Professor X and Magneto Who: Charles Xavier and Eric Lehnsherr When: Backdated to Saturday evening, January 26 Where: Magneto's office (and Xavier's office on the other end) What: Eric makes a rather important telephone call. Charles has some explaining to do.
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Eric had considered going to sleep. He'd considered not saying anything... but then again, Eric couldn't hide anything from Charles. He couldn't hide the ace under his sleeve, even with the helmet. Charles would know the moment he saw Eric again.
He was too paranoid to brave meeting Charles in his dreams, too afraid of psychic infiltration from other sources. Psychic scramblers were everywhere within the White House, he wore his helmet almost all of the time. Even if Charles didn't attack him, another psychic might, and ... he couldn't risk that. He wouldn't risk that. It was paranoia, it was obsession.
So he used the telephone.
"Charles Xavier speaking----"
Eric didn't let him finish. He barked a hollow laugh. "I have to admit you're clever, and far more duplicitous than I ever thought you to be, Charles."
There was a slight pause on the other end. "I beg your pardon?"
"When did you do it?" asked Eric, tapping his fingers on the desk. "If I were a fool I would say you did it while I was at the school last week, but it was far earlier. I should have known. I underestimated you, I didn't think you would be so crafty----How many years has it been, Charles? How many years have you been smugly keeping this a secret?"
"I don't think I know what you're talking about, Eric."
"Don't tell me you don't know what I'm talking about!" Eric snapped, slamming his fist into the desk. The metal surface of it warped and rippled like an upset stream. "How many years! When did you get inside my head? When did you tamper----I should have known. I should have realized it before now----for years..."
Charles had put mental blocks in his head. Charles had tampered with his mind, had made it impossible for Eric to choose to kill Charles or the X-Men. Mystique had told him to do it, Eric knew logically that getting rid of them years ago would have been the best idea, but he'd never been able to do it. He'd cursed his own frailty, cursed his relationship with Charles, cursed the fact that he'd helped to found the school... but it wasn't due to his own failings, was it? It was Charles, damaging his mind. The blocks by now had to be so deeply embedded that they were impossible to remove.
The professor's voice was damnably calm on the other side. "I think you need to rest."
"Damn it, Charles!"
"Thank you, for your work on Cerebro. It was extremely generous of you."
The line went dead, and for several seconds Eric was stuck listening to the dial tone. Dropping the phone, he pressed his fingers against his mouth, trying to stifle the soft, incredulous chuckle that bubbled up. He never should have been so arrogant as to exaggerate the morality of Charles Xavier.