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nekosmuseFic: Tessellation (10/?)
Fandom: XMFC (fusion with comic-canon and 1990s animated series)
Pairing: Charles/Erik
Rating: Eventual NC-17
Back to chapter 9
In the time it took to circle the trailer, Erik lost sight of Wolverine. He scanned the crowd, glaring at anyone who dared send a questioning glance in his direction. Damn it, he thought, scanning the treeline in case Wolverine had gone back into the bush.
He didn't see him and was about to ask Charles--still a warm, comforting presence in his mind--to do another search when he was flooded with fear and something very close to hysteria. It took Erik several moments to work out that neither sensation belonged to him. He was running long before he heard Charles' panicked calling of Erik, Erik, Erik!, the intensity of it so overwhelming, so loud, that it took all of Erik's willpower not to drop to his knees and cradle his head in his hands.
As soon as the Land Rover came into view, he knew immediately what had happened. The thought of Charles in danger lent him speed and he sprinted across the uneven ground, heart racing in a way it hadn't since he was a young boy and Schmidt had told him to move a coin.
Charles! Charles! Tell me you're alright, he thought fiercely.
When Charles didn't answer, Erik flung out a hand and reached out with his power. The feel of Wolverine's adamantium immediately flooded his senses, confirming Erik's worst fears. He could feel the tight coil of Wolverine's frame, knew exactly how the man was crouched in the front driver's side seat; could feel the razor sharp blades that extended from Wolverine's knuckles. Without thinking, Erik clenched his outstretched hand and pulled. With a hoarse, surprised yell, Wolverine flew out the driver's side door.
Magneto--and he was Magneto now, infused with this power, untouchable in a way Erik could never be--dragged Wolverine across the ground, then lifted him into the air and hurled him back, sending him twenty feet through the air to crash into a tree. The splintering of wood reverberated throughout the clearing. Dozens of heads turned to stare in their direction. Magneto spared them little thought, grabbing two of the trailers and tossing them aimlessly in their direction.
Erik, Erik, calm your mind. Calm your mind, Erik. I'm sorry, I'm sorry. I'm fine. I overreacted, please. Please, calm down. Don't hurt them!
The sound of Charles' voice, even confined within his head, was startling enough to give him pause. Magneto faltered, knees threatening to give way. He stumbled, eyes alighting on Charles' form, whole and unharmed, still inside the Land Rover---though now he was leaning across the seats and hanging his head out the driver's side door. Magneto rushed to his side.
"Tell me you're not hurt," he said, reaching up to cradle Charles' face in his hands. Charles blinked at him, blue eyes growing soft with an emotion Magneto couldn't bring himself to name.
"Oh, Erik. I'm fine. I'm so, so sorry," he said, reaching up to touch Magneto's cheek. His touch burned Magneto to the core, the resulting ache in his heart both unfamiliar and terrifying.
"I... thought he was going to kill you," Magneto started to say, but he was interrupted by a cry, more animal than human. His resolve hardened and he spun quickly to meet a charging Wolverine, Wolverine's claws extended, his features twisted into a snarl.
"Erik," Charles said, aloud this time, but Magneto ignored him, intent only on the animal who had threatened Charles.
He let Wolverine get within two feet, then took control of his skeleton, freezing him in place, spreading both his arms and legs until he resembled a crooked, writhing X. With a flick of Magneto's fingers, Wolverine rose into the air. He let out a pained grunt, limbs spreading impossibly wide, Magneto pulling them apart until the popping of bone became audible.
"Erik, stop." This time when Charles spoke, he curled a restraining hand around Magneto's arm. Magneto glanced down at it, annoyed by the interruption, but the sight of Charles' pale fingers, shaking ever so slightly, was enough to send him crashing back into the moment.
He released Wolverine instantly, though still held him loosely in place, unwilling to let the man within a foot of Charles' person. A crowd had gathered, some injured by his flying trailers--oh, God, had he killed anyone? Here in front of Charles? Many carried weapons, though they stood uncertain, as afraid of Wolverine as they were Magneto.
"No one is seriously hurt," Charles said, clearly inside his head. Magneto wanted to be annoyed, but all he could bring himself to think was, Charles is safe, Charles is safe.
He deflated instantly when he felt Charles' hands maneuvering him around and he let Charles manhandle him until they were pressed, forehead to forehead. Wolverine still stood behind them, held in place, and the crowd had begun to disperse--no doubt Charles' doing. Magneto's world narrowed to the thin sliver of space between them.
"I'm so sorry," Charles said again. "I was so startled that I lost the connection between us, otherwise I would have told you I was fine. I think Logan and I had a slight misunderstanding. We were in the process of clarifying things when you arrived. I neglected to tell you that I was no longer in danger."
Magneto released a breath, feeling his body calm in steady increments. Slowly his worry drained, then his anger, until Magneto slipped quietly away, leaving a battered, exhausted Erik in his wake.
"There you are," Charles said, pulling back and smiling.
"Sorry," Erik said, but Charles shook his head and said, Not your fault.
Embarrassed now--for something he would have taken immense pride in not two weeks ago--Erik stepped back and glanced around the clearing, unwilling to meet Charles' gaze. The men in the camp were steadily working, seemingly oblivious to the scene that had just played out before them--they didn't even seem to notice the upset trailers, though those with injuries were being quietly treated next to a trailer marked with a red cross--and God, Charles' power still gave him chills. Wolverine, who Erik had yet to release, stood at ease, as though by his own volition. He was still snarling, but he seemed wary, having seen what Erik could do. Somewhat reluctantly, Erik turned to address him.
"I'm going to release you now, and you're going to stand down. Then, we're going to have a discussion. Do I make myself clear?" Erik asked, Magneto slipping into his tone.
"Go fuck yourself," Wolverine answered, spitting in Erik's direction. Erik could feel him fighting against his invisible bonds.
An exasperated sigh came from Charles' direction. This was followed by a grunt, and when Erik turned, he was startled to find Charles trying to exit the vehicle.
"Charles," he said, rushing to Charles' side, uncertain what exactly Charles was trying to accomplish--aside from falling flat on his face.
"More helpful would be my chair," Charles said with a pointed look. Erik immediately reached out with his power, opened the trunk and retrieved Charles' chair, placing it gently on the ground beside the door. Charles clambered down gracefully into it.
When he was secure, he wheeled himself forward until he was positioned directly between Erik and Wolverine.
"You can release him now," he said.
Erik let his incredulity show on his face, shoulders becoming tense as he stepped forward to Charles' side. "Absolutely not," he said.
Charles tutted. "Don't be absurd, Erik. This is all a perfect misunderstanding. Logan saw me in the car, recognized me from the bar the other night and made the assumption I was following him--which, granted, I was, but I have explained the coincidence and the reasons for our presence.
"And Logan, I fear when you first entered the car and I found you were impervious to mind control--though I assure you, I meant only to stop you from harming me--I'm afraid I panicked and called out to Erik here, who then thought you intended to harm me."
Charles smiled brightly after finishing his speech, and Erik could tell he expected everyone to immediately put up arms, to forgive and forget and move on, the entire incident becoming an amusing story they would someday laugh over. There were times--a good number of them--when Charles' optimism was frankly alarming.
"Listen, I can't say I care much about why your boyfriend decided to throw me into a tree, but it ain't the sort of thing a man can just kiss and make up from, so here's my deal: You two get the fuck back in your car, drive the fuck back to wherever you came from, and leave me the fuck alone. In exchange, I'll put my claws away. Win, fucking, win."
Wolverine was grinning as he said this, the kind of grin that Erik knew well--the kind of grin he tended to see in the mirror the morning before a bloody battle. Erik tightened his grip on Wolverine's frame. He was about to say something particularly scathing when Charles began speaking.
"We could do that," he said, "and if you want us to leave, we'll leave."
Erik had a slight objection to that, but he kept his mouth shut, wanting to see where Charles was going with this. He'd implied earlier that Wolverine was impervious to mind control, which meant hand-waving his cooperation was out of the question.
"Or," Charles continued, "you'll let us buy you breakfast, we'll have a short but pleasant conversation, and in exchange I'll see if I can do something about retrieving some of your missing memories."
Had Wolverine not been frozen in place, Erik expected he would have lunged forward. His entire posture changed, becoming stiffer, poised for action. The amused smirk on his face was gone, replaced by a look of anger and suspicion so familiar Erik felt like he was looking in a mirror.
Against his will, he found himself stepping closer to Charles, not wanting Charles anywhere near this man, though for entirely different reasons.
"I can assure you I had nothing to do with your amnesia, Logan," Charles said. "I can't coerce your mind, but I can still read it, and there are gaping holes that can only be attributed to memory loss. I can't retrieve those--I suspect they are gone forever--but there are buried memories, suppressed memories that survived whatever happened to you. I can retrieve those and give you a picture, however incomplete, of who you are. All I'm asking in return is a conversation. To paraphrase; win, fucking, win."
Erik wasn't sure what was more alarming; the fact that he'd somehow lost control of this entire situation, or the fact that the word fucking had just passed over Charles' lips. He sounded so entirely proper, consonants enunciated so that the k took on a sharp, lingering sound. Erik felt the word settle around him, wrapping him in layers of heat that left him flushed and wanting.
"I get my memories, and breakfast, all for a little talk? You ain't hard to please, are you," Wolverine said and when Erik glanced over he was smiling. Had Erik hackles, they would have been standing on end.
"Excellent. Release him, Erik," Charles said, already moving his chair around to the passenger side door. Erik hesitated briefly, watching Charles go before turning back to meet Wolverine's level gaze.
"If you even look at him cross-eyed, I am going to rip that metal of yours out, piece by piece," Erik said, releasing his hold on Wolverine's skeleton. Wolverine dropped, his shoulders relaxing as he reacquainted himself with gravity. Erik ignored him, climbed into the driver's side door, stowed Charles' chair with a flick of his wrist, and then started the car. He didn't bother checking to see if Wolverine had made it into the backseat before pulling away, though Charles' lack of protest told Erik he had.
~*~
The diner Logan directed them to was just off Route 28 and made some of the best coffee Charles had had in his life. He was three cups in, Logan just finishing his second stack of pancakes, before Charles cleared his throat, hoping to dispel some of the awkward silence that had permeated both the drive and breakfast so far.
"Erik, I think perhaps we should start by letting Logan see that file of yours," he said.
Erik glanced over sharply--he'd been alternating between watching out the window and casting wary, annoyed glances in Logan's direction. "That's Brotherhood property," he said.
Charles scowled. Logan's arrival on the scene had put a strain on the easy, flirtatious camaraderie that had grown between them. The man who sat next to Charles was not the same man Charles had wanted to invite into his bed the night before. He wasn't Magneto--Charles had seen enough of him earlier--but rather some amalgamation of the two, Magneto's austerity tempered by Erik's suspicion and uncertainty.
It was clear Erik saw Logan as a threat--though to what, Charles couldn't say. He sat too close, elbow constantly brushing Charles' as they ate, his lip curling in distaste every time Logan so much as glanced in Charles' direction. Charles was coming dangerously close to breaking his promise not to read Erik's mind. Surely Erik didn't still believe Logan intended to kill him. Charles had been inside Logan's head. It was hardly the sort of thing he would miss.
"I do realize that, but perhaps if Logan understands why we were looking for him, he'd be better able to help us now." And they did need his help, because from what little Charles had glimpsed Logan was carrying information that might just change the face of human-mutant relations forever.
Erik looked skeptical, but he gave a resigned sigh and stood from the table. "Don't give me a reason to kill you," he said to Wolverine before he left. In response, Wolverine offered a sarcastic smile. Charles shook his head.
"I apologize. He's not usually like that." Except, from everything Charles had heard about Magneto before actually meeting him, Magneto was exactly like that. Why Charles was an exception was something Charles didn't want to think about--not now, in front of Logan, when he couldn't blush and didn't want to be caught wearing a ridiculous grin.
"Your boyfriend's got some issues." Logan shrugged. He didn't seem particularly concerned by Erik's dislike, even knowing Erik could tear him to pieces without a second thought.
There was more Charles wanted to say, but Erik slid silently back into his seat, manila folder tucked under his arm. He handed it over wordlessly and then shifted his chair closer to where Charles' sat.
It struck Charles suddenly, what Erik was doing, warmth filling his chest despite the ridiculousness of it. He was tempted to call Erik on it, but instead found himself smiling softly, feeling more certain by the minute of exactly what it was that was building between them.
Across the table, Logan flipped methodically through Erik's file, eyes wide, mouth twisted into a grimace. He said nothing, but his thoughts were a tangle of angry resentment. He'd raged against his amnesia, but this; this was far worse. Seeing his life written in black and white, discovering he was little more than a military experiment, was pushing Logan into dangerous territory. Without thinking, Charles sent a tendril of calm in his direction, only to have it bounce back--he'd forgotten that wouldn't work. Unfortunately, Logan, who had obviously been trained against telepaths--though he held no conscious memory of such a thing--reacted violently to the attempt.
He stood abruptly, chair tipping back behind him, and Charles knew without a doubt that this was too much for him to process. He was going to bolt--it might take years before he was ready to handle the things he had read. Charles should have known--should have seen this coming, but he had miscalculated. He had wanted to do this slowly, over the course of days, possibly even months, but there was no time for it now. He dove into Logan's mind--a gross violation of every ethic he still clung to--and began sifting through memory after memory, keeping as many from Logan as he could; though the process was too fast for Charles to fully control, and dozens of memories burst, floating into Logan's consciousness until he was on the floor, clutching his head between his hands.
Charles should have stopped--would have stopped ten years ago when he'd still been capable of hoping eternally for the goodness in all people--but Logan knew things, had information, dangerous information, that Charles was desperate to get. He had seen enough of it the first time he'd brushed Logan's mind and knew they couldn't let Logan leave without retrieving it. The safety of mutantkind depended on it.
Next to him, Erik sat, shock still, staring between Logan and Charles. It was obvious he was only vaguely aware of what was happening, but he didn't interfere, and Charles could have kissed him for extending such trust--though it was entirely possibly Erik had no real objection to Charles causing Logan pain.
Logan was howling now, the entire diner standing with mouths agape, frozen in place where Charles had caught them. He needed time, and having the local law enforcement show up now would have been to all their detriment.
Logan, please, I'm sorry, Charles thought, wishing he could ease this process. He'd unlocked a dam now, and images flooded both his and Logan's sense. This was what he had glimpsed, what he was looking for. Before Logan's amnesia, before he was cast off as a failed experiment, Logan had been privy to some of Striker's plans; plans that, even at a glimpse, had been terrifying. Seeing them now in their entirety, Charles was shaken to his very core.
He sensed the change in Logan's mind before he knew entirely what it meant. Logan's animal side was claiming dominance, rendering Charles' telepathy useless--his telepathy had never worked on animals. Charles lost the connection--too soon, too soon, his mind shouted--and at the same time Logan let out a tremendous roar and surged forward, claws extending. He got close enough to draw blood before Erik caught him, the sharp points of his blades pressing against Charles' windpipe.
"I warned you," Erik said to Logan, and Charles could sense he was about to do something stupid.
"Erik, don't. That was my fault. Just hold him until he calms down," Charles said, and to his surprise Erik listened--though his hesitance was obvious.
He stood Logan's seat upright and then sat Logan back on it, positioning him into a parody of a man enjoying his brunch, something that seemed to amuse Erik to no end. Charles breathed a sigh of relief and reached up to touch his throat, his fingers coming away bloody. When Erik noticed, he immediately reached for his paper napkin, wet it in his water glass, and pressed it against the wound.
"It's not that bad," Charles said, realizing only then that he still held the entire diner captive. Too late he knew that they should have found a more private location for their conversation.
He released the patrons and wiped the last few minutes of their memories, families and truck drivers and couples all simultaneously reclaiming their seats and going back to their--now cold--breakfasts. The kitchen would undoubtedly receive dozens of complaints.
"It's bad enough," Erik said, dabbing at the wound now. There was gentleness in his touch that made Charles shiver, despite the severity of the situation.
"My friend," Charles said, "I'm fine." He brought his hand to Erik's and delicately retrieved the now blood-spotted napkin from his grasp. Erik seemed disinclined to relinquish it, but his fingers fell open and, after a moment's hesitation, he set his hands back down on the gingham covered tabletop.
The echo of Erik's thoughts--and they were so loud now Charles couldn't help but hear them--were focused entirely on wanting to simultaneously kill Logan while bundling Charles out of harm's way. It would have been touching, were Charles not disinclined to violence. Charles ignored Erik as best he could, and turned his attention to Logan, whose mind was still reeling from everything he had seen. He had calmed enough that Charles could once again read his thoughts, though nowhere near enough for Erik to release him.
"Logan, you have my most sincere apologies. Under normal circumstances, I would never do what I did to you," Charles said. It was not an excuse, or even an explanation, and Charles knew he would forever feel guilt for what he had done. This moment would follow him to his grave.
"I can still help you," he continued. "I can help you process all of this, and retrieve the things that are still buried, but I won't without your express permission." Not again, he didn't say.
He watched as Logan slowly came back to himself, expression still pained, his anger a seething, ugly thing that loomed behind him. His lip curled back into a snarl. The look was starting to get familiar.
"What the hell did you do to me?" he asked, voice hoarse and broken, like he'd only just learned to use it. Charles wanted to hang his head. Instead he lifted his chin and met Logan's eye.
"I accessed your memories and unlocked them, too many, too fast, but I was looking for something in particular and I couldn't find it." It was no excuse--there was no excuse. Even Erik seemed to know this. He was staring at Charles as though he'd never seen him before.
"And did you?" Logan asked, and it was clear, had Erik not been holding him, he still would have lunged across the table and slit Charles' throat.
"Yes." Charles didn't elaborate--couldn't elaborate. The last thing he wanted to do was call up any one particular memory. Right now there were dozens--hundreds maybe--floating around, newly freed, and Logan would need to sort through each, put them in their appropriate place. Bringing one to the forefront now could be as dangerous as what Charles had just done.
"Win-fucking-lose, then," Logan said. His desire to maim, possibly kill Charles was ebbing, so Charles reached over to touch the inside of Erik's wrist. He stroked a smooth circle across Erik's flesh, conveying with his mind that Erik should release the man. For a minute, he thought Erik might argue, but then Logan twitched, his jaw clenching and unclenching as he regained the use of his body. He stood swiftly.
"I think we're done here," he said. Charles watched him walk towards the exit, letting him get to the door before he spoke into Logan's mind. He shared only a single piece of information--his address--in hopes that Logan might change him mind, might seek Charles out and allow Charles to make amends for the hurt he had caused.
"Well, that went well," Erik said once he was gone, but his tone betrayed his pleasure at seeing the man's back. "What the hell did you do to him?" he asked.
It was not shame that stayed Charles' tongue--though he was deeply ashamed--but rather the more pressing matter of what he had seen in Logan's mind.
"Erik, I want you to remain calm," Charles said, the statement earning him Erik's complete attention. Charles exhaled. "Striker has developed and designed a device, a collar, whose express purpose is to restrict and control a mutant's powers."
Erik paled, his eyes widening. He released a breath, the look of alarmed surprise shifting to one of hard determination. He pressed his lip into a thin line and shook his head.
"It's starting, Charles. It's starting," he said.
On to Chapter 11
Fandom: XMFC (fusion with comic-canon and 1990s animated series)
Pairing: Charles/Erik
Rating: Eventual NC-17
Back to chapter 9
In the time it took to circle the trailer, Erik lost sight of Wolverine. He scanned the crowd, glaring at anyone who dared send a questioning glance in his direction. Damn it, he thought, scanning the treeline in case Wolverine had gone back into the bush.
He didn't see him and was about to ask Charles--still a warm, comforting presence in his mind--to do another search when he was flooded with fear and something very close to hysteria. It took Erik several moments to work out that neither sensation belonged to him. He was running long before he heard Charles' panicked calling of Erik, Erik, Erik!, the intensity of it so overwhelming, so loud, that it took all of Erik's willpower not to drop to his knees and cradle his head in his hands.
As soon as the Land Rover came into view, he knew immediately what had happened. The thought of Charles in danger lent him speed and he sprinted across the uneven ground, heart racing in a way it hadn't since he was a young boy and Schmidt had told him to move a coin.
Charles! Charles! Tell me you're alright, he thought fiercely.
When Charles didn't answer, Erik flung out a hand and reached out with his power. The feel of Wolverine's adamantium immediately flooded his senses, confirming Erik's worst fears. He could feel the tight coil of Wolverine's frame, knew exactly how the man was crouched in the front driver's side seat; could feel the razor sharp blades that extended from Wolverine's knuckles. Without thinking, Erik clenched his outstretched hand and pulled. With a hoarse, surprised yell, Wolverine flew out the driver's side door.
Magneto--and he was Magneto now, infused with this power, untouchable in a way Erik could never be--dragged Wolverine across the ground, then lifted him into the air and hurled him back, sending him twenty feet through the air to crash into a tree. The splintering of wood reverberated throughout the clearing. Dozens of heads turned to stare in their direction. Magneto spared them little thought, grabbing two of the trailers and tossing them aimlessly in their direction.
Erik, Erik, calm your mind. Calm your mind, Erik. I'm sorry, I'm sorry. I'm fine. I overreacted, please. Please, calm down. Don't hurt them!
The sound of Charles' voice, even confined within his head, was startling enough to give him pause. Magneto faltered, knees threatening to give way. He stumbled, eyes alighting on Charles' form, whole and unharmed, still inside the Land Rover---though now he was leaning across the seats and hanging his head out the driver's side door. Magneto rushed to his side.
"Tell me you're not hurt," he said, reaching up to cradle Charles' face in his hands. Charles blinked at him, blue eyes growing soft with an emotion Magneto couldn't bring himself to name.
"Oh, Erik. I'm fine. I'm so, so sorry," he said, reaching up to touch Magneto's cheek. His touch burned Magneto to the core, the resulting ache in his heart both unfamiliar and terrifying.
"I... thought he was going to kill you," Magneto started to say, but he was interrupted by a cry, more animal than human. His resolve hardened and he spun quickly to meet a charging Wolverine, Wolverine's claws extended, his features twisted into a snarl.
"Erik," Charles said, aloud this time, but Magneto ignored him, intent only on the animal who had threatened Charles.
He let Wolverine get within two feet, then took control of his skeleton, freezing him in place, spreading both his arms and legs until he resembled a crooked, writhing X. With a flick of Magneto's fingers, Wolverine rose into the air. He let out a pained grunt, limbs spreading impossibly wide, Magneto pulling them apart until the popping of bone became audible.
"Erik, stop." This time when Charles spoke, he curled a restraining hand around Magneto's arm. Magneto glanced down at it, annoyed by the interruption, but the sight of Charles' pale fingers, shaking ever so slightly, was enough to send him crashing back into the moment.
He released Wolverine instantly, though still held him loosely in place, unwilling to let the man within a foot of Charles' person. A crowd had gathered, some injured by his flying trailers--oh, God, had he killed anyone? Here in front of Charles? Many carried weapons, though they stood uncertain, as afraid of Wolverine as they were Magneto.
"No one is seriously hurt," Charles said, clearly inside his head. Magneto wanted to be annoyed, but all he could bring himself to think was, Charles is safe, Charles is safe.
He deflated instantly when he felt Charles' hands maneuvering him around and he let Charles manhandle him until they were pressed, forehead to forehead. Wolverine still stood behind them, held in place, and the crowd had begun to disperse--no doubt Charles' doing. Magneto's world narrowed to the thin sliver of space between them.
"I'm so sorry," Charles said again. "I was so startled that I lost the connection between us, otherwise I would have told you I was fine. I think Logan and I had a slight misunderstanding. We were in the process of clarifying things when you arrived. I neglected to tell you that I was no longer in danger."
Magneto released a breath, feeling his body calm in steady increments. Slowly his worry drained, then his anger, until Magneto slipped quietly away, leaving a battered, exhausted Erik in his wake.
"There you are," Charles said, pulling back and smiling.
"Sorry," Erik said, but Charles shook his head and said, Not your fault.
Embarrassed now--for something he would have taken immense pride in not two weeks ago--Erik stepped back and glanced around the clearing, unwilling to meet Charles' gaze. The men in the camp were steadily working, seemingly oblivious to the scene that had just played out before them--they didn't even seem to notice the upset trailers, though those with injuries were being quietly treated next to a trailer marked with a red cross--and God, Charles' power still gave him chills. Wolverine, who Erik had yet to release, stood at ease, as though by his own volition. He was still snarling, but he seemed wary, having seen what Erik could do. Somewhat reluctantly, Erik turned to address him.
"I'm going to release you now, and you're going to stand down. Then, we're going to have a discussion. Do I make myself clear?" Erik asked, Magneto slipping into his tone.
"Go fuck yourself," Wolverine answered, spitting in Erik's direction. Erik could feel him fighting against his invisible bonds.
An exasperated sigh came from Charles' direction. This was followed by a grunt, and when Erik turned, he was startled to find Charles trying to exit the vehicle.
"Charles," he said, rushing to Charles' side, uncertain what exactly Charles was trying to accomplish--aside from falling flat on his face.
"More helpful would be my chair," Charles said with a pointed look. Erik immediately reached out with his power, opened the trunk and retrieved Charles' chair, placing it gently on the ground beside the door. Charles clambered down gracefully into it.
When he was secure, he wheeled himself forward until he was positioned directly between Erik and Wolverine.
"You can release him now," he said.
Erik let his incredulity show on his face, shoulders becoming tense as he stepped forward to Charles' side. "Absolutely not," he said.
Charles tutted. "Don't be absurd, Erik. This is all a perfect misunderstanding. Logan saw me in the car, recognized me from the bar the other night and made the assumption I was following him--which, granted, I was, but I have explained the coincidence and the reasons for our presence.
"And Logan, I fear when you first entered the car and I found you were impervious to mind control--though I assure you, I meant only to stop you from harming me--I'm afraid I panicked and called out to Erik here, who then thought you intended to harm me."
Charles smiled brightly after finishing his speech, and Erik could tell he expected everyone to immediately put up arms, to forgive and forget and move on, the entire incident becoming an amusing story they would someday laugh over. There were times--a good number of them--when Charles' optimism was frankly alarming.
"Listen, I can't say I care much about why your boyfriend decided to throw me into a tree, but it ain't the sort of thing a man can just kiss and make up from, so here's my deal: You two get the fuck back in your car, drive the fuck back to wherever you came from, and leave me the fuck alone. In exchange, I'll put my claws away. Win, fucking, win."
Wolverine was grinning as he said this, the kind of grin that Erik knew well--the kind of grin he tended to see in the mirror the morning before a bloody battle. Erik tightened his grip on Wolverine's frame. He was about to say something particularly scathing when Charles began speaking.
"We could do that," he said, "and if you want us to leave, we'll leave."
Erik had a slight objection to that, but he kept his mouth shut, wanting to see where Charles was going with this. He'd implied earlier that Wolverine was impervious to mind control, which meant hand-waving his cooperation was out of the question.
"Or," Charles continued, "you'll let us buy you breakfast, we'll have a short but pleasant conversation, and in exchange I'll see if I can do something about retrieving some of your missing memories."
Had Wolverine not been frozen in place, Erik expected he would have lunged forward. His entire posture changed, becoming stiffer, poised for action. The amused smirk on his face was gone, replaced by a look of anger and suspicion so familiar Erik felt like he was looking in a mirror.
Against his will, he found himself stepping closer to Charles, not wanting Charles anywhere near this man, though for entirely different reasons.
"I can assure you I had nothing to do with your amnesia, Logan," Charles said. "I can't coerce your mind, but I can still read it, and there are gaping holes that can only be attributed to memory loss. I can't retrieve those--I suspect they are gone forever--but there are buried memories, suppressed memories that survived whatever happened to you. I can retrieve those and give you a picture, however incomplete, of who you are. All I'm asking in return is a conversation. To paraphrase; win, fucking, win."
Erik wasn't sure what was more alarming; the fact that he'd somehow lost control of this entire situation, or the fact that the word fucking had just passed over Charles' lips. He sounded so entirely proper, consonants enunciated so that the k took on a sharp, lingering sound. Erik felt the word settle around him, wrapping him in layers of heat that left him flushed and wanting.
"I get my memories, and breakfast, all for a little talk? You ain't hard to please, are you," Wolverine said and when Erik glanced over he was smiling. Had Erik hackles, they would have been standing on end.
"Excellent. Release him, Erik," Charles said, already moving his chair around to the passenger side door. Erik hesitated briefly, watching Charles go before turning back to meet Wolverine's level gaze.
"If you even look at him cross-eyed, I am going to rip that metal of yours out, piece by piece," Erik said, releasing his hold on Wolverine's skeleton. Wolverine dropped, his shoulders relaxing as he reacquainted himself with gravity. Erik ignored him, climbed into the driver's side door, stowed Charles' chair with a flick of his wrist, and then started the car. He didn't bother checking to see if Wolverine had made it into the backseat before pulling away, though Charles' lack of protest told Erik he had.
~*~
The diner Logan directed them to was just off Route 28 and made some of the best coffee Charles had had in his life. He was three cups in, Logan just finishing his second stack of pancakes, before Charles cleared his throat, hoping to dispel some of the awkward silence that had permeated both the drive and breakfast so far.
"Erik, I think perhaps we should start by letting Logan see that file of yours," he said.
Erik glanced over sharply--he'd been alternating between watching out the window and casting wary, annoyed glances in Logan's direction. "That's Brotherhood property," he said.
Charles scowled. Logan's arrival on the scene had put a strain on the easy, flirtatious camaraderie that had grown between them. The man who sat next to Charles was not the same man Charles had wanted to invite into his bed the night before. He wasn't Magneto--Charles had seen enough of him earlier--but rather some amalgamation of the two, Magneto's austerity tempered by Erik's suspicion and uncertainty.
It was clear Erik saw Logan as a threat--though to what, Charles couldn't say. He sat too close, elbow constantly brushing Charles' as they ate, his lip curling in distaste every time Logan so much as glanced in Charles' direction. Charles was coming dangerously close to breaking his promise not to read Erik's mind. Surely Erik didn't still believe Logan intended to kill him. Charles had been inside Logan's head. It was hardly the sort of thing he would miss.
"I do realize that, but perhaps if Logan understands why we were looking for him, he'd be better able to help us now." And they did need his help, because from what little Charles had glimpsed Logan was carrying information that might just change the face of human-mutant relations forever.
Erik looked skeptical, but he gave a resigned sigh and stood from the table. "Don't give me a reason to kill you," he said to Wolverine before he left. In response, Wolverine offered a sarcastic smile. Charles shook his head.
"I apologize. He's not usually like that." Except, from everything Charles had heard about Magneto before actually meeting him, Magneto was exactly like that. Why Charles was an exception was something Charles didn't want to think about--not now, in front of Logan, when he couldn't blush and didn't want to be caught wearing a ridiculous grin.
"Your boyfriend's got some issues." Logan shrugged. He didn't seem particularly concerned by Erik's dislike, even knowing Erik could tear him to pieces without a second thought.
There was more Charles wanted to say, but Erik slid silently back into his seat, manila folder tucked under his arm. He handed it over wordlessly and then shifted his chair closer to where Charles' sat.
It struck Charles suddenly, what Erik was doing, warmth filling his chest despite the ridiculousness of it. He was tempted to call Erik on it, but instead found himself smiling softly, feeling more certain by the minute of exactly what it was that was building between them.
Across the table, Logan flipped methodically through Erik's file, eyes wide, mouth twisted into a grimace. He said nothing, but his thoughts were a tangle of angry resentment. He'd raged against his amnesia, but this; this was far worse. Seeing his life written in black and white, discovering he was little more than a military experiment, was pushing Logan into dangerous territory. Without thinking, Charles sent a tendril of calm in his direction, only to have it bounce back--he'd forgotten that wouldn't work. Unfortunately, Logan, who had obviously been trained against telepaths--though he held no conscious memory of such a thing--reacted violently to the attempt.
He stood abruptly, chair tipping back behind him, and Charles knew without a doubt that this was too much for him to process. He was going to bolt--it might take years before he was ready to handle the things he had read. Charles should have known--should have seen this coming, but he had miscalculated. He had wanted to do this slowly, over the course of days, possibly even months, but there was no time for it now. He dove into Logan's mind--a gross violation of every ethic he still clung to--and began sifting through memory after memory, keeping as many from Logan as he could; though the process was too fast for Charles to fully control, and dozens of memories burst, floating into Logan's consciousness until he was on the floor, clutching his head between his hands.
Charles should have stopped--would have stopped ten years ago when he'd still been capable of hoping eternally for the goodness in all people--but Logan knew things, had information, dangerous information, that Charles was desperate to get. He had seen enough of it the first time he'd brushed Logan's mind and knew they couldn't let Logan leave without retrieving it. The safety of mutantkind depended on it.
Next to him, Erik sat, shock still, staring between Logan and Charles. It was obvious he was only vaguely aware of what was happening, but he didn't interfere, and Charles could have kissed him for extending such trust--though it was entirely possibly Erik had no real objection to Charles causing Logan pain.
Logan was howling now, the entire diner standing with mouths agape, frozen in place where Charles had caught them. He needed time, and having the local law enforcement show up now would have been to all their detriment.
Logan, please, I'm sorry, Charles thought, wishing he could ease this process. He'd unlocked a dam now, and images flooded both his and Logan's sense. This was what he had glimpsed, what he was looking for. Before Logan's amnesia, before he was cast off as a failed experiment, Logan had been privy to some of Striker's plans; plans that, even at a glimpse, had been terrifying. Seeing them now in their entirety, Charles was shaken to his very core.
He sensed the change in Logan's mind before he knew entirely what it meant. Logan's animal side was claiming dominance, rendering Charles' telepathy useless--his telepathy had never worked on animals. Charles lost the connection--too soon, too soon, his mind shouted--and at the same time Logan let out a tremendous roar and surged forward, claws extending. He got close enough to draw blood before Erik caught him, the sharp points of his blades pressing against Charles' windpipe.
"I warned you," Erik said to Logan, and Charles could sense he was about to do something stupid.
"Erik, don't. That was my fault. Just hold him until he calms down," Charles said, and to his surprise Erik listened--though his hesitance was obvious.
He stood Logan's seat upright and then sat Logan back on it, positioning him into a parody of a man enjoying his brunch, something that seemed to amuse Erik to no end. Charles breathed a sigh of relief and reached up to touch his throat, his fingers coming away bloody. When Erik noticed, he immediately reached for his paper napkin, wet it in his water glass, and pressed it against the wound.
"It's not that bad," Charles said, realizing only then that he still held the entire diner captive. Too late he knew that they should have found a more private location for their conversation.
He released the patrons and wiped the last few minutes of their memories, families and truck drivers and couples all simultaneously reclaiming their seats and going back to their--now cold--breakfasts. The kitchen would undoubtedly receive dozens of complaints.
"It's bad enough," Erik said, dabbing at the wound now. There was gentleness in his touch that made Charles shiver, despite the severity of the situation.
"My friend," Charles said, "I'm fine." He brought his hand to Erik's and delicately retrieved the now blood-spotted napkin from his grasp. Erik seemed disinclined to relinquish it, but his fingers fell open and, after a moment's hesitation, he set his hands back down on the gingham covered tabletop.
The echo of Erik's thoughts--and they were so loud now Charles couldn't help but hear them--were focused entirely on wanting to simultaneously kill Logan while bundling Charles out of harm's way. It would have been touching, were Charles not disinclined to violence. Charles ignored Erik as best he could, and turned his attention to Logan, whose mind was still reeling from everything he had seen. He had calmed enough that Charles could once again read his thoughts, though nowhere near enough for Erik to release him.
"Logan, you have my most sincere apologies. Under normal circumstances, I would never do what I did to you," Charles said. It was not an excuse, or even an explanation, and Charles knew he would forever feel guilt for what he had done. This moment would follow him to his grave.
"I can still help you," he continued. "I can help you process all of this, and retrieve the things that are still buried, but I won't without your express permission." Not again, he didn't say.
He watched as Logan slowly came back to himself, expression still pained, his anger a seething, ugly thing that loomed behind him. His lip curled back into a snarl. The look was starting to get familiar.
"What the hell did you do to me?" he asked, voice hoarse and broken, like he'd only just learned to use it. Charles wanted to hang his head. Instead he lifted his chin and met Logan's eye.
"I accessed your memories and unlocked them, too many, too fast, but I was looking for something in particular and I couldn't find it." It was no excuse--there was no excuse. Even Erik seemed to know this. He was staring at Charles as though he'd never seen him before.
"And did you?" Logan asked, and it was clear, had Erik not been holding him, he still would have lunged across the table and slit Charles' throat.
"Yes." Charles didn't elaborate--couldn't elaborate. The last thing he wanted to do was call up any one particular memory. Right now there were dozens--hundreds maybe--floating around, newly freed, and Logan would need to sort through each, put them in their appropriate place. Bringing one to the forefront now could be as dangerous as what Charles had just done.
"Win-fucking-lose, then," Logan said. His desire to maim, possibly kill Charles was ebbing, so Charles reached over to touch the inside of Erik's wrist. He stroked a smooth circle across Erik's flesh, conveying with his mind that Erik should release the man. For a minute, he thought Erik might argue, but then Logan twitched, his jaw clenching and unclenching as he regained the use of his body. He stood swiftly.
"I think we're done here," he said. Charles watched him walk towards the exit, letting him get to the door before he spoke into Logan's mind. He shared only a single piece of information--his address--in hopes that Logan might change him mind, might seek Charles out and allow Charles to make amends for the hurt he had caused.
"Well, that went well," Erik said once he was gone, but his tone betrayed his pleasure at seeing the man's back. "What the hell did you do to him?" he asked.
It was not shame that stayed Charles' tongue--though he was deeply ashamed--but rather the more pressing matter of what he had seen in Logan's mind.
"Erik, I want you to remain calm," Charles said, the statement earning him Erik's complete attention. Charles exhaled. "Striker has developed and designed a device, a collar, whose express purpose is to restrict and control a mutant's powers."
Erik paled, his eyes widening. He released a breath, the look of alarmed surprise shifting to one of hard determination. He pressed his lip into a thin line and shook his head.
"It's starting, Charles. It's starting," he said.
On to Chapter 11
