charles xavier (cerebrally) wrote in realitycrash, @ 2012-01-25 06:17:00 |
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Entry tags: | !inprogress, charles xavier, erik lehnsherr |
The Players: Charles Xavier and Erik Lehnsherr
What: Serious discussion.
Where: Charles and Erik's recently acquired space, the Manor
When: January 25th, 2012 (after Erik speaks to Raven)
Rating: PG-13 to begin with.
To say it's been a long day would be an inexcusable understatement. It's been more than a day by now, surely, although at the moment Charles isn't quite sure. He's slept a little since arriving, but only fitfully, and two glasses of cheap red wine aren't helping his memory either. He rather wants to curl up in bed and not get out of it for a while, so this happens to be what he's doing, sipping from his third glass. He's never a morning drinker, so this in and of itself is highly unusual behavior. He's isn't drunk or even close to it, and the fact that the temptation to become so is so strong makes him think he ought to pour the bottle out and go back to sleep. But he doesn't.
He doesn't like the thought of becoming his mother much, but for once he has decided that he simply won't think of it.
He's been trying to read about his own era, with less focus on the events of the missile crisis than Erik had: Charles was simply glad it had been resolved to some extent in this world, and hoped that in their own they had the same luck--from what Sean said, it seemed they had. If and when they got home, which didn't bear much thinking about either just yet. The fact that Sean remembered Erik, Charles, and Raven being present in his reality was worrisome in its own right, but it wasn't something Charles could have any real access to. This was so far out of his range of expertise he felt quite helpless, and that was rare.
Then there was the matter of his own recognition by strangers from future permutations of worlds like his own, and yet at least in one case horribly alien. That was the real reason words kept slipping from the page in front of him into mocking nonsense. He stared at the senseless pages for a long crystalline moment, then slammed the book shut with uncharacteristic force and set it aside on the night table in exchange for the rest of his wine, which he tossed back in a long swallow before pouring a fourth.
It was like having a twisted funhouse mirror held up to one of the things he'd been most sure of, most trusting in. It wasn't the young man's fault, word choices aside, but Charles still didn't want to believe--and he wanted someone to blame, as irrational as that was, and the only person who seemed like a sensible choice was Charles himself. So that was who he settled on, with a sick, heavy feeling in the pit of his stomach. In another life he'd already failed Erik, and now he'd have to tell him that. He'd have to tell him that in another world they'd parted when in their own they'd barely begun to connect. It wasn't fair, and telling himself that life itself was unfair didn't remedy it at all.
He wouldn't, and couldn't, tell Erik just yet. It would have been obscene. But he wanted him closer anyway, yet was too ashamed to call for him like a needy child. So instead he waited, his fourth glass of wine untouched as he tipped his head back and stared at the ceiling.