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nekosmuseFic: Tessellation (8/?)
Fandom: XMFC (fusion with comic-canon and 1990s animated series)
Pairing: Charles/Erik
Rating: Eventual NC-17
Back to chapter 7
The trip took longer than Charles had anticipated. Inside Cerebro, Charles could travel thousands of miles in seconds, so he often forgot what it was like to be limited by both the laws of physics and the limitations of vehicular technology--not to mention state speed laws.
After three hours of driving, they stopped in Shokan so that Charles could urinate--not an easy process these days, but he was well used to the inconvenience of having to insert a catheter every time his bladder grew too full. The day was clear and crisp, so after Charles had pissed, they bought sandwiches--Reubens made with marble rye and paired with thick slices of pickle--and ate them outside. Erik sat on the hood of Charles' truck, while Charles parked his chair under the overhang of a spectacularly coloured maple tree.
Erik was unusually quiet--had been the entire trip--but he seemed more at ease than he had the day before, naturally comfortable in a way Magneto tried too hard to be, like Erik had finally received permission to simply exist and was taking advantage. Even without delving into Erik's mind, Charles knew he was seeing the man Erik might have been were it not for the weight of Magneto's helmet. It was frightening how quickly Charles was growing to like this man.
"How close do you need to be to..."
It took Charles a minute to figure out what Erik was talking about, the wiggling of his fingers--and God, he had such long, dexterous fingers--distracting.
"I'm not really certain," Charles admitted. It had been far too long since he'd bothered testing himself outside of Cerebro. "Let's find out, then, shall we." He brought his fingers to his temple and closed his eyes, letting everything else fall away as he focused on finding Wolverine's mind.
He could still sense Erik, leaning forward now, elbows against his knees as he watched Charles with tensely coiled anticipation. His presence was a distraction, so Charles blocked the eager excitement he could feel coming off Erik in waves, and concentrated instead on sending his thoughts north and west, towards the coordinates Cerebro had given them.
Ten minutes or so had passed before Charles was once again aware of his surroundings. It was strange to find himself in so open a place, Charles used to the security of Cerebro. It was strange, too, to realize how much he trusted Erik; enough to have just placed his safety completely in Erik's hands. If Erik knew this, he said nothing, his expression only mildly curious, although the taut lines of his body betrayed his tension.
"A vague impression, about twenty miles north of here, but aside from that I can't tell you much," Charles said, shrugging off the impressed look Erik shot in his direction.
"Don't be modest. That's a fairly impressive range. Emma can barely manage half a mile," Erik said.
Charles chuckled. He knew Ms. Frost by reputation only, but he had brushed her mind on several occasions while connected to Cerebro. She was a powerful telepath, but certainly no match for Charles. Still, Erik's praise brought heat to his face; his cheeks no doubt stained a brilliant shade of pink.
Naturally Erik noticed, a grin spreading across his face, like he had somehow scored a point in a game Charles hadn't known they were playing. Charles had never wanted so badly to peek inside someone's head. He would have given anything to know what Erik was thinking then, to match the mischievous glint in Erik's eyes to whatever thought had caused it. He kept his promise, though, however silently made, settling instead on giving Erik a pointed look, one he hoped conveyed his willingness to play by Erik's rules.
Erik's grin widened, and he hopped down from his perch on the hood, shaking out the last of his tension before he stalked to where Charles sat. Charles held himself perfectly still, heart racing as Erik leaned over his chair and braced himself on Charles' armrests.
"Charles Xavier, has no one ever told you how brilliant you are?" he asked. Unconsciously, Charles wet his lips.
"I can't say I recall those exact words, no," Charles said, though he barely recognized his own voice, hoarse and gravelly as it was.
Erik was still smiling, still leaning over his chair--just like he had that first night they'd met--the warmth of his body bleeding into the space between them. Just to be contrary, Charles' skin broke out into gooseflesh.
"In that case, it ought to be said. You, Charles, are perfection."
And, oh, how he wanted that moment to last forever; wanted to stretch it out into eternity, to spend the rest of time trapped beneath the heat of Erik's body--and it was readily becoming apparent exactly what it was he wanted from Erik. The universe, however, had always hated Charles--he could think of no other explanation that might explain his life thus far--the moment interrupted by a loudly barked laugh, followed by a shout of faggots that immediately soured the intimacy between them.
Erik withdrew, features going stony, and Charles knew he was now looking at Magneto. He watched, terror growing in his heart, as Erik turned to face the two men who had so rudely interrupted them. They were big men, each easily twice Erik's size, and Charles could tell--from the brief glimpse of their thoughts--that they thought they had the advantage. What they didn't know--couldn't conceive, probably--was that they were dealing with two of the world's most powerful mutants. Erik was going to destroy them.
"Erik," Charles said, wheeling himself forward until he was at Erik's side. He reached a steady hand to Erik's wrist and curled his fingers around it. If you do this, word will get out, and Wolverine will know we're coming. Please, let me, he said into Erik's mind.
Erik remained tense and Charles could tell he was fighting against himself, but just when Charles thought he might need to resort to firmer measures, Erik relaxed, a low, lazy smile spreading across his face. He stepped back and gestured broadly to the two men, nodding his acceptance.
Charles could feel his curiosity, but more than that, he was aware of Erik's certainty. Erik was confident Charles could nullify the situation without alerting anyone to their presence. His trust was overwhelming, especially since Charles hadn't yet decided how best to defuse the situation. It came to him suddenly, staring at Erik as he was, an earlier conversation blooming in his mind in a way that left Charles doubting if the thought was even his.
Erik had accused him of wanting to make love, not war. It seemed fitting.
It didn't require a re-write of personality, or even a forced suggestion. Charles merely fanned a spark. Their two would-be assailants immediately forgot they had ever intended to start a fight--forgot about Charles and Erik entirely, lost as they were in each other. At his side, Erik choked on his laughter. Charles couldn't help but smile.
"We really ought to leave, though. They'll swap spit for another twenty minutes or so, but I for one don't want to be around when their heads clear," Charles said.
Still laughing, Erik nodded his agreement. "That certainly beat what I was planning on doing," he said.
"Oh, and what was that?" Charles asked, smiling. He was feeling particularly pleased with himself, but he was mostly thrilled that the interruption hadn't ruined the energy between them.
"Pick them up by their belt buckles and slam them into their truck," Erik said. He shrugged. "Sometimes simple works best."
Charles couldn't help but laugh.
Once Charles was safely inside the Land Rover, Erik stowed his chair without the use of his powers, obviously taking Charles' warning to heart. He climbed into the driver's side a minute later and started them back towards the freeway. In the growing distance, their would-be assailants continued their quest to swallow one another's tonsils.
~*~
Erik drove the remaining distance at exactly the speed limit, not because he particularly wanted to obey the law--and a human law at that--or even because he was worried about the winding roads and rolling hills, but because he wanted to prolong their journey, to spend more time in Charles' company--and when had he ever compromised a mission for something so utterly ludicrous? Erik shook away the thought.
His body hummed with unused energy, a by-product of too long sitting behind a wheel. Beside him, Charles hummed along with the radio, fingers absently tapping against his knees. His window was down, and the wind ran through his hair, pushing it off his face and exposing the startling blue of his eyes. The slight October chill had turned his cheeks pink--the same colour they were outside the delicatessen in Shokan, Erik couldn't help but think.
God, he was so angry at those stupid, ignorant Homo sapiens. It was a mark of the influence Charles had over him--already, and what was worse Erik wasn't bothered by it in the least--that he hadn't killed them both instantly. He'd wanted to--Magneto had wanted to--but all it had taken was a soft word, whispered in the confines of his head, and his anger had melted away. The man was otherworldly, there was no other explanation.
"Um, Erik," Charles said, Erik coming to abruptly, realizing then that he'd been staring at Charles instead of the road and in the process had veered into the other lane. He corrected with too much force, fish-tailing the truck. On coming drivers blared their horns, as though Erik didn't know what he'd done--wasn't intensely fighting to keep the truck on the road. He spared them a single scowl, thinking that if it weren't for Charles, he would have sent them careening off the road just for spite. Instead he ignored them, righted the car, and pushed the gas pedal to the floor.
"Sorry, long drive," Erik said once they were relatively safe--and there he went again, because Magneto would never apologize and he certainly wouldn't admit vulnerability. What had Charles done to him?
"I'd offer to take over, but..." Charles gestured absently to his legs. "Although, I'm sure if I asked Hank could devise some sort of hand control system for me. For all I know such a thing already exists. Isn't that ridiculous, that it hasn't occurred to me until now?"
Charles made the statement with nothing but good humour, and that, Erik suspected, was exactly why he didn't feel the need to keep his defenses up around Charles. He had never known a man so quick to self-depreciate; it was as though Charles had long since catalogued his strengths and weaknesses and had determined the latter to be of little importance. Erik, on the other hand, still expended a good deal of his energy trying--often in vain--to hide his weaknesses; another by-product of his misbegotten youth.
"I'll be fine. We're close now, aren't we?"
"Very, I should say. He's quite clear now, no more than a mile or two. Without going straight into his head, I can only tell you that he's exhausted but content, and thinking about pancakes," Charles said. The statement was so ridiculous Erik laughed. He hazarded a glance in Charles' direction and found him wearing a sloppy, ridiculous looking grin.
God, how Erik wanted to kiss the man.
The thought was as surprising as it was unexpected--though when he thought back over the last two days, he realized it wasn't the first time he'd considered such a thing. Still, it wasn't like him to allow distraction like this. Erik shook his head. Who was he kidding? He'd been distracted from the moment they'd met--even Mystique had called him on it.
It was probably a conversation they should have another time, when they weren't about to go after a mutant whose skill sets included unlimited strength and spontaneous regeneration. Focus, he told himself, tightening his grip on the wheel. Ahead, the road bent sharply to the left and Erik slowed the truck to follow it.
"No, stop," Charles said and Erik immediately hit the brake. "Sorry. We need to go back. There's a road we passed; that's what we're looking for."
Erik shook his head. "There's no road. We passed a trail, that's it."
"Yes, that's it," Charles said with such conviction that Erik didn't hesitate in turning the car.
He was glad Charles had made them switch cars--there was no way in hell his stolen sports car would have made it down this road, if it could even be called that. An old logging road, Erik thought, turned hiking trail in the modern, post-Woodstock era of tree-hugging insanity. Trees and underbrush scrapped against the sides of the Land Rover. The entire vehicle jostled and shook. They were lucky it was late in the year--they never would have made the trip had the ground been soft with spring thaw.
"I don't like this," Erik said. They were moving ever closer to this Wolverine guy when all Erik wanted was to keep Charles as far from him as possible. He knew he should have insisted on going alone--although he was beginning to have serious doubts as to his ability to find Wolverine without Charles' help.
"Have a little faith, Erik. I'll know well before we encounter anything untoward." Erik could only grunt at that.
Twenty minutes later, the road spat them out, rather unceremoniously Erik thought, into a clearing where several other cars and trucks sat parked next to six long, grey trailers. The entire area had a deserted, abandoned feel to it--much like Striker's abandoned base--though from the equipment Erik could see lying around, he knew the camp's occupants were only temporarily away.
"This, I believe, would be an illegal logging operation. Our Wolverine is a lumberjack," Erik said.
"Well, that explains the pancakes," Charles said without missing a beat. Erik glanced in his direction, met Charles' gaze and dissolved into laughter. A moment later Charles joined in.
It was ridiculous, sitting in enemy territory, giggling over a bad joke like two wayward teens, but Erik couldn't remember the last time he'd so thoroughly enjoyed himself. How different his life might have been if he'd met Charles when he was still a young man.
"Are we close?" Erik asked when he was again capable of speaking. Charles' laughter trailed off, and he closed his eyes, opening them a second later and shaking his head.
"A mile, no more," he said. Erik nodded. Wolverine was out in the bush then, with the rest of the camp's inhabitants. "But there is someone in the first trailer, possibly a foreman. We could go have a chat."
Erik wanted to argue, to tell Charles it was too dangerous, and that it would announce their presence, but as soon as he thought it he remembered what Charles was and knew they could have an entire conversation with the man without anyone being any the wiser. It was probably their best option, especially since Erik doubted he could float Charles' wheelchair a mile through the woods and still have enough energy left over to fight if it came down to it.
It was far easier to float Charles' chair over the uneven ground and up the steps to the trailer. The entire time Charles sat primly in the chair, hands folded in his lap, as though Erik floating him was an everyday occurrence. Erik marvelled at his poise. This was a man made to command armies. What he wouldn't give to make Charles see that.
Not that he still held any delusions of enticing Charles to his side, but he was beginning to suspect they might just find some common ground, carve something new from the energy between them. The prospect was exciting, although Erik suspected he was merely looking for an excuse to keep Charles in his life.
Inside the trailer, the foreman--or whoever he was--was sitting, bent over a desk, paperwork spread out before him. He stood abruptly when they entered.
"And just who in the hell..." was as far as he got before Charles intervened.
"Mr. Holman, thank you for agreeing to meet with us," Charles said. Mr. Holman instantly reclaimed his seat and smiled across the desk at them. Erik didn't think he'd ever get tired of seeing Charles at work. Were he a less composed man, he might have clapped his hands together in glee. Instead he stood at Charles' right shoulder and projected his most menacing persona.
"Of course, it's the least I can do. Please, tell your partner to take a seat," Mr. Holman said, but Charles waved the suggestion away.
"You were just telling us about..." Erik could only assume Charles had implanted the idea of Wolverine into the man's head. It was a fascinating thing to watch, like being privy to only half a conversion, the subtext of the thing lost to him. Under normal circumstances, it would have bothered him greatly, but with Charles he merely relaxed and let nature take its course.
"Logan, that's right. Good guy. Came to me a few days ago, looking for work. Had him up on the slopes that same night. Damned good at what he does, too. Strong as an ox, and fast, too. He'll serve you well, though I confess, I don't like to lose him."
Erik had no idea who Holman thought they were, or what he thought they wanted with Wolverine--or Logan as Holman had called him.
"I completely understand. Do you know when he'll be back?" Charles asked. Erik began absently playing with the coins in his pockets, rolling them over one another in an easy, four-beat rhythm.
"Day like today, might sleep out under the stars, come back in the morning. I'd offer to send someone out, but I ain't got anyone else on hand. Might get lucky and have em come in tonight, but I'd wager you want to be here an hour or so after sunrise," Holman said.
Erik stopped listening, though he was vaguely aware of Charles offering his thanks, then asking after a local hotel, before finally giving Holman a firm command to forget their presence entirely. When he was done, he exchanged a brief glance with Erik and then headed to the door. Erik crooked a finger, elevating Charles' chair into the air and floating him back to the car.
"You're thinking tomorrow," Erik said once they were secure inside the vehicle.
"That and the hotel Holman recommended is adjacent a bar that happens to be very popular with the logging crowd after work. If they come back in tonight, there's a good chance Logan will stop in. If not, we catch him in the morning."
"Sounds like a plan," Erik said, and he should have been mad--he should have been furious--another day wasted, and were it anyone but Charles he knew he would be fuming. Instead he was bordering on deliriously giddy, the thought of getting to spend yet another night in Charles' company too good an opportunity to miss.
God, he really was in over his head, wasn't he?
Continue to chapter 9
Fandom: XMFC (fusion with comic-canon and 1990s animated series)
Pairing: Charles/Erik
Rating: Eventual NC-17
Back to chapter 7
The trip took longer than Charles had anticipated. Inside Cerebro, Charles could travel thousands of miles in seconds, so he often forgot what it was like to be limited by both the laws of physics and the limitations of vehicular technology--not to mention state speed laws.
After three hours of driving, they stopped in Shokan so that Charles could urinate--not an easy process these days, but he was well used to the inconvenience of having to insert a catheter every time his bladder grew too full. The day was clear and crisp, so after Charles had pissed, they bought sandwiches--Reubens made with marble rye and paired with thick slices of pickle--and ate them outside. Erik sat on the hood of Charles' truck, while Charles parked his chair under the overhang of a spectacularly coloured maple tree.
Erik was unusually quiet--had been the entire trip--but he seemed more at ease than he had the day before, naturally comfortable in a way Magneto tried too hard to be, like Erik had finally received permission to simply exist and was taking advantage. Even without delving into Erik's mind, Charles knew he was seeing the man Erik might have been were it not for the weight of Magneto's helmet. It was frightening how quickly Charles was growing to like this man.
"How close do you need to be to..."
It took Charles a minute to figure out what Erik was talking about, the wiggling of his fingers--and God, he had such long, dexterous fingers--distracting.
"I'm not really certain," Charles admitted. It had been far too long since he'd bothered testing himself outside of Cerebro. "Let's find out, then, shall we." He brought his fingers to his temple and closed his eyes, letting everything else fall away as he focused on finding Wolverine's mind.
He could still sense Erik, leaning forward now, elbows against his knees as he watched Charles with tensely coiled anticipation. His presence was a distraction, so Charles blocked the eager excitement he could feel coming off Erik in waves, and concentrated instead on sending his thoughts north and west, towards the coordinates Cerebro had given them.
Ten minutes or so had passed before Charles was once again aware of his surroundings. It was strange to find himself in so open a place, Charles used to the security of Cerebro. It was strange, too, to realize how much he trusted Erik; enough to have just placed his safety completely in Erik's hands. If Erik knew this, he said nothing, his expression only mildly curious, although the taut lines of his body betrayed his tension.
"A vague impression, about twenty miles north of here, but aside from that I can't tell you much," Charles said, shrugging off the impressed look Erik shot in his direction.
"Don't be modest. That's a fairly impressive range. Emma can barely manage half a mile," Erik said.
Charles chuckled. He knew Ms. Frost by reputation only, but he had brushed her mind on several occasions while connected to Cerebro. She was a powerful telepath, but certainly no match for Charles. Still, Erik's praise brought heat to his face; his cheeks no doubt stained a brilliant shade of pink.
Naturally Erik noticed, a grin spreading across his face, like he had somehow scored a point in a game Charles hadn't known they were playing. Charles had never wanted so badly to peek inside someone's head. He would have given anything to know what Erik was thinking then, to match the mischievous glint in Erik's eyes to whatever thought had caused it. He kept his promise, though, however silently made, settling instead on giving Erik a pointed look, one he hoped conveyed his willingness to play by Erik's rules.
Erik's grin widened, and he hopped down from his perch on the hood, shaking out the last of his tension before he stalked to where Charles sat. Charles held himself perfectly still, heart racing as Erik leaned over his chair and braced himself on Charles' armrests.
"Charles Xavier, has no one ever told you how brilliant you are?" he asked. Unconsciously, Charles wet his lips.
"I can't say I recall those exact words, no," Charles said, though he barely recognized his own voice, hoarse and gravelly as it was.
Erik was still smiling, still leaning over his chair--just like he had that first night they'd met--the warmth of his body bleeding into the space between them. Just to be contrary, Charles' skin broke out into gooseflesh.
"In that case, it ought to be said. You, Charles, are perfection."
And, oh, how he wanted that moment to last forever; wanted to stretch it out into eternity, to spend the rest of time trapped beneath the heat of Erik's body--and it was readily becoming apparent exactly what it was he wanted from Erik. The universe, however, had always hated Charles--he could think of no other explanation that might explain his life thus far--the moment interrupted by a loudly barked laugh, followed by a shout of faggots that immediately soured the intimacy between them.
Erik withdrew, features going stony, and Charles knew he was now looking at Magneto. He watched, terror growing in his heart, as Erik turned to face the two men who had so rudely interrupted them. They were big men, each easily twice Erik's size, and Charles could tell--from the brief glimpse of their thoughts--that they thought they had the advantage. What they didn't know--couldn't conceive, probably--was that they were dealing with two of the world's most powerful mutants. Erik was going to destroy them.
"Erik," Charles said, wheeling himself forward until he was at Erik's side. He reached a steady hand to Erik's wrist and curled his fingers around it. If you do this, word will get out, and Wolverine will know we're coming. Please, let me, he said into Erik's mind.
Erik remained tense and Charles could tell he was fighting against himself, but just when Charles thought he might need to resort to firmer measures, Erik relaxed, a low, lazy smile spreading across his face. He stepped back and gestured broadly to the two men, nodding his acceptance.
Charles could feel his curiosity, but more than that, he was aware of Erik's certainty. Erik was confident Charles could nullify the situation without alerting anyone to their presence. His trust was overwhelming, especially since Charles hadn't yet decided how best to defuse the situation. It came to him suddenly, staring at Erik as he was, an earlier conversation blooming in his mind in a way that left Charles doubting if the thought was even his.
Erik had accused him of wanting to make love, not war. It seemed fitting.
It didn't require a re-write of personality, or even a forced suggestion. Charles merely fanned a spark. Their two would-be assailants immediately forgot they had ever intended to start a fight--forgot about Charles and Erik entirely, lost as they were in each other. At his side, Erik choked on his laughter. Charles couldn't help but smile.
"We really ought to leave, though. They'll swap spit for another twenty minutes or so, but I for one don't want to be around when their heads clear," Charles said.
Still laughing, Erik nodded his agreement. "That certainly beat what I was planning on doing," he said.
"Oh, and what was that?" Charles asked, smiling. He was feeling particularly pleased with himself, but he was mostly thrilled that the interruption hadn't ruined the energy between them.
"Pick them up by their belt buckles and slam them into their truck," Erik said. He shrugged. "Sometimes simple works best."
Charles couldn't help but laugh.
Once Charles was safely inside the Land Rover, Erik stowed his chair without the use of his powers, obviously taking Charles' warning to heart. He climbed into the driver's side a minute later and started them back towards the freeway. In the growing distance, their would-be assailants continued their quest to swallow one another's tonsils.
~*~
Erik drove the remaining distance at exactly the speed limit, not because he particularly wanted to obey the law--and a human law at that--or even because he was worried about the winding roads and rolling hills, but because he wanted to prolong their journey, to spend more time in Charles' company--and when had he ever compromised a mission for something so utterly ludicrous? Erik shook away the thought.
His body hummed with unused energy, a by-product of too long sitting behind a wheel. Beside him, Charles hummed along with the radio, fingers absently tapping against his knees. His window was down, and the wind ran through his hair, pushing it off his face and exposing the startling blue of his eyes. The slight October chill had turned his cheeks pink--the same colour they were outside the delicatessen in Shokan, Erik couldn't help but think.
God, he was so angry at those stupid, ignorant Homo sapiens. It was a mark of the influence Charles had over him--already, and what was worse Erik wasn't bothered by it in the least--that he hadn't killed them both instantly. He'd wanted to--Magneto had wanted to--but all it had taken was a soft word, whispered in the confines of his head, and his anger had melted away. The man was otherworldly, there was no other explanation.
"Um, Erik," Charles said, Erik coming to abruptly, realizing then that he'd been staring at Charles instead of the road and in the process had veered into the other lane. He corrected with too much force, fish-tailing the truck. On coming drivers blared their horns, as though Erik didn't know what he'd done--wasn't intensely fighting to keep the truck on the road. He spared them a single scowl, thinking that if it weren't for Charles, he would have sent them careening off the road just for spite. Instead he ignored them, righted the car, and pushed the gas pedal to the floor.
"Sorry, long drive," Erik said once they were relatively safe--and there he went again, because Magneto would never apologize and he certainly wouldn't admit vulnerability. What had Charles done to him?
"I'd offer to take over, but..." Charles gestured absently to his legs. "Although, I'm sure if I asked Hank could devise some sort of hand control system for me. For all I know such a thing already exists. Isn't that ridiculous, that it hasn't occurred to me until now?"
Charles made the statement with nothing but good humour, and that, Erik suspected, was exactly why he didn't feel the need to keep his defenses up around Charles. He had never known a man so quick to self-depreciate; it was as though Charles had long since catalogued his strengths and weaknesses and had determined the latter to be of little importance. Erik, on the other hand, still expended a good deal of his energy trying--often in vain--to hide his weaknesses; another by-product of his misbegotten youth.
"I'll be fine. We're close now, aren't we?"
"Very, I should say. He's quite clear now, no more than a mile or two. Without going straight into his head, I can only tell you that he's exhausted but content, and thinking about pancakes," Charles said. The statement was so ridiculous Erik laughed. He hazarded a glance in Charles' direction and found him wearing a sloppy, ridiculous looking grin.
God, how Erik wanted to kiss the man.
The thought was as surprising as it was unexpected--though when he thought back over the last two days, he realized it wasn't the first time he'd considered such a thing. Still, it wasn't like him to allow distraction like this. Erik shook his head. Who was he kidding? He'd been distracted from the moment they'd met--even Mystique had called him on it.
It was probably a conversation they should have another time, when they weren't about to go after a mutant whose skill sets included unlimited strength and spontaneous regeneration. Focus, he told himself, tightening his grip on the wheel. Ahead, the road bent sharply to the left and Erik slowed the truck to follow it.
"No, stop," Charles said and Erik immediately hit the brake. "Sorry. We need to go back. There's a road we passed; that's what we're looking for."
Erik shook his head. "There's no road. We passed a trail, that's it."
"Yes, that's it," Charles said with such conviction that Erik didn't hesitate in turning the car.
He was glad Charles had made them switch cars--there was no way in hell his stolen sports car would have made it down this road, if it could even be called that. An old logging road, Erik thought, turned hiking trail in the modern, post-Woodstock era of tree-hugging insanity. Trees and underbrush scrapped against the sides of the Land Rover. The entire vehicle jostled and shook. They were lucky it was late in the year--they never would have made the trip had the ground been soft with spring thaw.
"I don't like this," Erik said. They were moving ever closer to this Wolverine guy when all Erik wanted was to keep Charles as far from him as possible. He knew he should have insisted on going alone--although he was beginning to have serious doubts as to his ability to find Wolverine without Charles' help.
"Have a little faith, Erik. I'll know well before we encounter anything untoward." Erik could only grunt at that.
Twenty minutes later, the road spat them out, rather unceremoniously Erik thought, into a clearing where several other cars and trucks sat parked next to six long, grey trailers. The entire area had a deserted, abandoned feel to it--much like Striker's abandoned base--though from the equipment Erik could see lying around, he knew the camp's occupants were only temporarily away.
"This, I believe, would be an illegal logging operation. Our Wolverine is a lumberjack," Erik said.
"Well, that explains the pancakes," Charles said without missing a beat. Erik glanced in his direction, met Charles' gaze and dissolved into laughter. A moment later Charles joined in.
It was ridiculous, sitting in enemy territory, giggling over a bad joke like two wayward teens, but Erik couldn't remember the last time he'd so thoroughly enjoyed himself. How different his life might have been if he'd met Charles when he was still a young man.
"Are we close?" Erik asked when he was again capable of speaking. Charles' laughter trailed off, and he closed his eyes, opening them a second later and shaking his head.
"A mile, no more," he said. Erik nodded. Wolverine was out in the bush then, with the rest of the camp's inhabitants. "But there is someone in the first trailer, possibly a foreman. We could go have a chat."
Erik wanted to argue, to tell Charles it was too dangerous, and that it would announce their presence, but as soon as he thought it he remembered what Charles was and knew they could have an entire conversation with the man without anyone being any the wiser. It was probably their best option, especially since Erik doubted he could float Charles' wheelchair a mile through the woods and still have enough energy left over to fight if it came down to it.
It was far easier to float Charles' chair over the uneven ground and up the steps to the trailer. The entire time Charles sat primly in the chair, hands folded in his lap, as though Erik floating him was an everyday occurrence. Erik marvelled at his poise. This was a man made to command armies. What he wouldn't give to make Charles see that.
Not that he still held any delusions of enticing Charles to his side, but he was beginning to suspect they might just find some common ground, carve something new from the energy between them. The prospect was exciting, although Erik suspected he was merely looking for an excuse to keep Charles in his life.
Inside the trailer, the foreman--or whoever he was--was sitting, bent over a desk, paperwork spread out before him. He stood abruptly when they entered.
"And just who in the hell..." was as far as he got before Charles intervened.
"Mr. Holman, thank you for agreeing to meet with us," Charles said. Mr. Holman instantly reclaimed his seat and smiled across the desk at them. Erik didn't think he'd ever get tired of seeing Charles at work. Were he a less composed man, he might have clapped his hands together in glee. Instead he stood at Charles' right shoulder and projected his most menacing persona.
"Of course, it's the least I can do. Please, tell your partner to take a seat," Mr. Holman said, but Charles waved the suggestion away.
"You were just telling us about..." Erik could only assume Charles had implanted the idea of Wolverine into the man's head. It was a fascinating thing to watch, like being privy to only half a conversion, the subtext of the thing lost to him. Under normal circumstances, it would have bothered him greatly, but with Charles he merely relaxed and let nature take its course.
"Logan, that's right. Good guy. Came to me a few days ago, looking for work. Had him up on the slopes that same night. Damned good at what he does, too. Strong as an ox, and fast, too. He'll serve you well, though I confess, I don't like to lose him."
Erik had no idea who Holman thought they were, or what he thought they wanted with Wolverine--or Logan as Holman had called him.
"I completely understand. Do you know when he'll be back?" Charles asked. Erik began absently playing with the coins in his pockets, rolling them over one another in an easy, four-beat rhythm.
"Day like today, might sleep out under the stars, come back in the morning. I'd offer to send someone out, but I ain't got anyone else on hand. Might get lucky and have em come in tonight, but I'd wager you want to be here an hour or so after sunrise," Holman said.
Erik stopped listening, though he was vaguely aware of Charles offering his thanks, then asking after a local hotel, before finally giving Holman a firm command to forget their presence entirely. When he was done, he exchanged a brief glance with Erik and then headed to the door. Erik crooked a finger, elevating Charles' chair into the air and floating him back to the car.
"You're thinking tomorrow," Erik said once they were secure inside the vehicle.
"That and the hotel Holman recommended is adjacent a bar that happens to be very popular with the logging crowd after work. If they come back in tonight, there's a good chance Logan will stop in. If not, we catch him in the morning."
"Sounds like a plan," Erik said, and he should have been mad--he should have been furious--another day wasted, and were it anyone but Charles he knew he would be fuming. Instead he was bordering on deliriously giddy, the thought of getting to spend yet another night in Charles' company too good an opportunity to miss.
God, he really was in over his head, wasn't he?
Continue to chapter 9
