Charles Xavier (tohopeagain) wrote in the100, @ 2015-07-23 23:37:00 |
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Entry tags: | !log/thread, charles xavier / professor x (movies), erik lehnsherr / magneto (movies) |
Who: Erik Lehnsherr & Charles Xavier
When: Thursday evening, July 23
Where: Their apartment
What: They clear the air. Mostly.
Rating: E for emotional.
Erik is out all night. By the time he comes back, Billy has cleaned up the mess, and Erik isn't in the mood to make apologies. He's also not in a mood to speak with Raven, but he's especially not in the mood to speak with Charles. Charles is upset over being insulted, so upset that he inflicted pain and traumatic memories into Erik's mind in a fit of spite, and if Charles is angry at Erik for throwing a tantrum, it's absurd. So Erik doesn't talk to him. Erik goes to the library to read, he wanders, he goes back to his room to shower and sleep. He shuts out the world, and it's alarmingly easy for him to lock himself away alone. It almost, almost feels normal. Charles feels guilty. It’s not an uncommon feeling at this point -- but his anger is gone. Towards Erik, that is. He’s still angry at himself, and will be for a long time to come. He’s a trained psychologist; the degree isn’t for show, by any means. Lashing out against Erik was wrong, and his only excuse is that in his surprise and dismay at what seemed like a sudden outburst on Erik’s part, he reacted in kind. And then some. His head aches, a space over his temple pounding in time with the beating of his heart. With Rachel and Betsy’s help, he’s beginning to be able to build sturdier walls; they help, but they don’t help with the fact that Charles has been, quite frankly, a complete asshole the past several days, and it’s time he stops. It’s time he pulls himself up and acts like the adult he supposedly is. He wheels his chair over to just outside the door leading to Erik and Raven’s bedrooms, and he knocks, loudly enough to be heard. When Erik answers the door (actually opening it rather than using his powers), he looks grim and exhausted. He knows it's Charles before he even opens it, and he isn't sure he wants to hear it. He stalks away from the door the moment it's open, wearily sitting down on the bed. He beckons with two fingers, inviting Charles in without saying anything. He's just preparing for the argument to come, and he isn't sure he has the energy. He's hurt more than he's angry, scared more than he's enraged. Carefully, he wheels himself in, minding the door. While the chair fits, it’s a close fit, and if Charles isn’t careful it’s easy to hit the doorjam and have a bruised finger or hand. He pushes the door closed behind him, signalling privacy for the coming discussion, and wheels over to Erik. He looks at him, studies him and the lines on his face, the fear and anger etched into Erik’s face, and he bows his head. His eyes close, and he takes deep breaths to calm himself. Finally he looks back up and offers the only words he can. “I’m sorry.” Erik glances up. It's the faintest movement; he's otherwise still. This isn't what he expected to hear, and he's not sure how to deal with it. "What?" “I’m sorry,” Charles says again. He grips the arms of his wheelchair, pressing on even further. “I handled your outburst badly, and I shouldn’t have done. I’m sorry for what I said, and for the memories I sent you.” It's like Erik doesn't quite understand. He knows it's an apology, and it feels sincere, but he's too surprised at the fact that there's an apology to begin with that he doesn't quite know what to say. He wonders if Charles wants an apology in return. Erik's not planning on giving one, because he's not sorry for what he said. Not really. Charles eavesdropped into his mind, Erik hates when Charles does that, and nothing about that violation of his privacy is acceptable. He looks down at his hands. "I'm going to find a way to build another version of my helmet," he says mildly. The implication is unspoken but it's clear: Charles does not have permission to do anything like that again. Charles nods, jerkily. That might be the best scenario, given that Erik had thought his accusation of Charles so pointedly that it had pierced Charles’s own thoughts as he read. He could still hear the echo of it, Erik’s voice dripping with anger and disdain. He clenches his jaw. “If that’s what you think is best. I wish you every luck in your endeavor.” Erik doesn't immediately mention the reason for his outburst, for his anger. He thinks that it doesn't matter, that there's no excuse that Charles will listen to, that it hardly matters. There's no good way to admit that his worst fears were realized, no good way to say that he's upset and defeated and afraid, that he's angry at Rachel for somehow remaining an idealist despite such horrors. He just nods. "Thank you, for apologizing," he says stiffly. People don't apologize to him often, not like this. "I was going to clean up the hall. Billy must have done it." Charles nods in return. “He did. He’s a good boy.” Although he should have let Erik to clean up his own mess -- but of course that is just Charles’s opinion. “Erik…” Charles trails off, only to begin again just a moment later. “What happened? Why did you…?” Once he's asked, Erik doesn't hesitate. "In Rachel's world, mutants were rounded up and sent to camps. It's how she knows me," he says. There's something closed off in his expression; he's putting emotional walls up to avoid another outburst, but his surface thoughts are still a tempest — and a coin on the nightstand starts to rattle. "She was trying to dissuade me from thinking it's inevitable that people will turn on us." “Erik.” Charles speaks sharply in an attempt to get his attention, and reaches to grasp Erik’s wrist. “Stop.” But he can feel the coiled panic, the rage sitting tightly within Erik, and he understands. He understands, but he does not want Erik to be the harbinger of worse things to come because he is afraid of what might be. Erik's eyes flicker over to the coin and it immediately snaps back down onto the table, going still. "She still believes in you, Charles, and condemns me. You should be proud." “I am proud that she is still standing, and that she believes in the ultimate goodness of all,” Charles says. “You mustn’t -- Erik. What she told you is terrible. It is unthinkable. But it is also… it’s an alternate way of how our lives could be. Logan -- he helped to save us from a fate where we are hunted by Trask’s sentinels and killed one by one. I need to believe that the end that we sought, you and I together in a future that won’t happen now because we decided to change it. We did, Erik." He leans forward, looking at Erik and meeting his eyes. "You must have hope." Erik can't feel like that's true. He doesn't know if they changed anything. He knows that he acted irrationally and almost destroyed what they worked for, and it's not that he's not aware that his actions might lead to an even greater fear of mutants. He's aware, but he doesn't want to play nice. He knows that they'll be hated no matter what he chooses to do. Peace isn't an option. There's no future with peace in it, and he knows it. "I do have hope," Erik says evenly. "And because I have hope, I take action." “It doesn’t have to be us versus them,” Charles says. He sits back, letting his hand fall from Erik’s wrist. “I think -- when you do that, you start to bring about the future you don’t want to see.” Erik snarls, jerking his hand back even as Charles lets it go. "You do not get to blame me for what they do," he snaps, his voice dangerously low. He remembers what Raven told him: talk him down. So he's quiet for a minute, and lets it’s stretch into two. “No, but I do get to remind you that the actions you take now will affect all of us later.” Charles purses his lips and looks away. “When I was a child, one of our neighbors had a dog, a very large one, a mastiff. I was afraid of it, and every time I was near it, it growled. I had no idea that the animal was afraid of me, because whenever I was around it wasn’t certain whether I would try to beat it or hurt it. If we act as if we believe that humans will hurt us, then they will.” Erik's mouth twitches. It's a fundamental disagreement about the nature of humanity. Charles believes in the best, and Erik expects the worst. It's easy to see why, knowing where he's been and where he comes from. When he was a child, innocent people were rounded up by the millions and killed simply because they were easy to blame, because of ideas that had no basis in reality. They were still slaughtered, whether they played nicely or not. "They will hurt us anyway," he says quietly. "It doesn't matter whether the reason is real." He doesn't want to get into a fight about this, not when he knows it's the very thing that drives them apart. “Then you should be prepared to fight for everyone in this mountain,” Charles replies after some thought. It is devastatingly sad to hear Erik speak in such a way, and wearying. Erik isn't the only person to go through hardship, to have his world ripped away from him. Others within the mountain have endured, as well, and have brought far more trouble with them than Erik has. "If we are persecuted, it won't be because of our gifts. It will be because of the horrors that have been brought to this world by others." Erik looks down at his hands. He's already had to shift his worldview a bit, now that he knows that there are people with powers who aren't mutants. "We're wearing down the Sky People," he says after a moment. "We're using their resources and we're not only people with powers, we're bringing dangers with us that they won't stand for much longer. They're native to this world, and it's only a matter of time before they decide that we're no longer welcome." He's been thinking about this. It's not that he's dying to find a reason to kill, because he's not. However, it's hard not to think of the world as a series of fights for survival. "I don't want to fight with you, Charles," he says quietly. "You said…" He stops, shaking his head. That's what gets him more than anything. Charles said he loved him, then turned around and inflicted so much psychic pain out of spite, while Erik was upset and afraid. He doesn't know how to reconcile the two things. "While we are giving back in every way we can. We are, each of us, using our individual talents to improve the quality of life here, to make Mount Weather and Camp Jaha liveable and sustainable. There are some things that I am certain the Sky People wouldn’t be able to do without us, and us without them. They may dislike us being here, but we are here nevertheless, and they must live with that,” Charles says, wanting to believe his own words. But weariness allows him to believe Erik’s more than he should. “I said that I love you. And I do. You…” Charles pauses to clear his throat. He hasn’t yet tried to quantify his feelings for Erik, to know if they fall into the realm of familial love only, or if they are deeper. He isn’t ready to quantify them, and for him it’s enough that he’s spoken them, that Erik understands that Charles’s love is not conditional on how many outbursts Erik has or how often they disagree and argue. He speaks again, this time his voice raspy, emotional. “You’re my friend, my… my brother. How could I not love you?” No one's said I love you to Erik since he was a child. No one's taken time to tell him something so simple, so gentle, and for a long time he's thought himself as impossible to love. He doesn't know how to handle this information now that he has it, and it's like a knife in the gut, twisting at all of his vulnerabilities. "I know a lot of reasons," he says quietly, his voice cracking. “And yet you still are,” Charles says mildly, trying for a smile. “I worry for you, you know? I worry. I worried for ten bloody years and here we are, and I still worry.” He always will worry, he knows it. Erik is broken in so many ways, and Charles feels that brokenness to his soul. But he can only provide support, because Erik learning to live with the tragedy of his past can only be done by Erik, no one else. Erik leans forward, slumping over Charles's chair to rest his forehead against his friend's. He wants to stay angry, and part of him still is, but a part of him always is. "Don't worry for me, I take care of myself," he says softly. Charles puts his hands gently on Erik’s shoulders, squeezing them before smoothing down his arms to grip Erik’s forearms. “Nice try. But I couldn’t stop if I tried.” He closes his eyes, leaning against Erik. “Have you slept?” "Not yet," Erik says quietly, the answer to the question an afterthought. The only person who touches him like this is Raven, and he's not really listening to Charles's words. He likes the affection. “You should. You get cranky when you don’t.” Charles’s voice is a low rumble, amused and affectionate. “I’ll stay here with you, if you want.” Erik tips his head, just slightly. They're close, and with the way Erik moves it's almost enough to brush his lips against the other man's — but it isn't quite enough. He stops himself, breath catching, and then he quietly turns away like it never happened in the first place. "You don't have to, I can sleep on my own. I usually do." Charles stops him from turning away completely, grasping his upper arm in a silent entreaty to stay. “Usually. Sometimes it’s nice to have someone else’s presence when you do, though. I promise I’ll be quiet.” He will read, in fact. "Fine. Because you insist." Erik reaches up to smooth Charles's hair and squeeze the back of his neck, and then he kicks his feet up onto the bed so he can settle in. He's in his clothes and on top of the blankets, but that doesn't seem to matter. Charles smiles slightly and picks up the book Erik has lying on the night table. Pillars of the Earth. He hefts it in his hand slightly before opening it, losing himself in the pages as Erik sleeps on. |