Love Letters

3 months after Cuba

Hello Old friend,

Here we are again. I fell asleep to my last letter, I woke up and there was a blanket around my shoulders. But, what are we to do? You’re out fighting for mutant rights, and I’m sitting here falling asleep over pointless papers. Although it's not like I can do much, my legs make it difficult for me to do anything these days. Some days I am bedridden with the pain from my spine. It almost kills me to know that you are out there, in the world, happy. You have probably built yourself a life, forgotten about me. I cannot. You were too strong a magnet for me to ever forget you. So, here I am writing pointless letters to a man I will never see again. A man whom I love, and who will never speak to me again.

You would be proud of the children, you really would. They have grown up so much in the last few months. Alex has actually become somewhat responsible, Hank is trying his best to find a cure to my paralysis and he spends so much time doing it. I may need to go check on Sean sometime however, because he’s become so antisocial. But I can’t… oh I can’t, there aren’t ramps yet. If you were here there would be ramps.

Please Erik, please come home, please bring Raven home. I am tired of sitting in my bed and waiting for you, I am tired of my legs. Sean, Alex, Hank, me, we all need you. I don’t care about your stupid brotherhood that I hear so much about on the news, I don’t care about your stupid missions, just please come back to me. Choose me for once, because I didn’t get chosen last time. I would forgive you if you came back now and I’m not sure if I would do that in the future.

I want my legs back, Erik. I want to walk again, Hank isn’t making that fucking serum fast enough. I need the pain to end, I can’t live like this anymore. Drowning myself in whiskey is looking more and more likely just so I don’t have to feel this pain anymore. But, I don’t want to end up like my mother, passed out, vomiting over the floor. I couldn’t be like that around the children, they need to have a good example. I’ll have a few, maybe I’ll talk to Sean about something but I can’t deteriorate into myself, however tempting it is.

I told you I wouldn’t write again, but it’s becoming harder and harder to ignore the hole in my chest that you left. I hope nobody finds these and sends them. I think I would rather crawl into a pit of self loathing than for you to find my mourning of the death of something that I’m not even sure I know. I just know I’m mourning the loss of you, and unless you return soon, I’m not sure I can take it for much longer.

I hope you are well old friend, I hope you are happy with Raven,
Charles

***

Sean was sitting in his bed, smoking a joint when he heard a thump on the stairs outside his doorway. Grumbling, he managed his way out of bed to check the sound. The thumping got louder as Sean stumbled towards it. A cry came from the bottom of the stairs as Sean looked over the edge of the banister. “Professor?” Sean called, “Are you alright?”

“Yes I’m fine, just finding it a bit difficult to get up the stairs that’s all,”

Sean properly looked down into the hall below, taking in Charles lying on the floor, struggling to grasp onto the steps. “What the fuck are you doing?”

“I’m trying to climb the stairs,” Charles replied calmly, “Except it doesn’t seem to be working and all I really want to do is get to my bedroom,”

“Here, let me help you professor,” Sean knocked down the stairs, his mind in a cloud,

“No Sean, I’m fine, just… go get Hank, I’m sorry for disturbing you.” A tear rolled down his cheek, and dripped onto his shirt.

“No you’re not. Hey, I’m stronger than I look,” Sean jabbered,

“Not in that state you’re not,” Charles returned, “I can do this by myself, I need to do this by myself.”

“No Hank,” Sean whispered

“No Hank, I want to do this Sean,”

“Alright, but I’ll keep watch to make sure you don’t hurt yourself,”

“No you won’t.” Charles grumbled forcefully, “Either go back to your room, or I’ll make you go back to your room. I am not going to be watched whilst I embarrass myself,”

Sean slowly backed away, “You won’t hurt yourself? Promise.”

“I promise,”

Relieved, Sean made his way back to his room, not sure what to make of the situation. Why was Charles trying to get up the stairs? Ah, wait. His bedroom. Sean decided he needed to remind Hank to put a ramp in. But wouldn’t it be too steep? Maybe an elevator instead. He heard a low moan of pain, but Sean couldn’t make himself go out and talk Charles out of it. Maybe he did need to do this, get some semblance of his old life back.

Sean looked around his room, and saw the joint he was smoking earlier. It seemed inviting, just so he could forget about what Charles was trying to do downstairs. Taking a puff, it tasted old but was good enough for his needs. Slowly, Sean re-entered his land of dreams where he could forget the problems that surrounded him.

***

Charles wasn’t really sure what he was trying to achieve. Upstairs. That’s all he wanted. Maybe if he could get to his bedroom. But, he wouldn’t have his chair upstairs. He’d have to crawl around more, but that didn’t matter to him. He just wanted to go upstairs. The muscles in Charles arms grew weary as he tried to pull himself up the staircase. He was going up slowly, but making progress, however the top seemed just as far from where he was now than at the bottom. Looking down, Charles realised he’d only gone up a few steps.

Groaning, Charles’s arms gave out and he fell to the bottom. Thankfully, Sean didn’t appear again to tell him off for hurting himself, as he could feel the base of his spine spiking in pain. He desperately needed to get upstairs, to reach something.

Ignoring the pain in his back and the ache in his arm muscle, Charles restarted the climb. This time, he crawled up, using the bannister for leverage. This time, Charles managed to get to the top. His bedroom was in reach, he crawled through the corridor, passing Sean’s dark room the smell of weed escaping from the bottom. Charles filed it away in his mind that he’d have to talk to him about that. He hadn’t realised Sean had gotten so bad. Up here, the voices in Charles’s head grew slightly stronger, the sadness, the anger surrounded him. It bellowed into his brain, knocking him backwards a few steps. Charles hadn’t known the pain everyone else was going through, he had never thought to ask.

He felt tears spring to his eyes, the anxiety he’d been hiding came to the surface. Just a few more crawls. He thought of the soft scent of the sheets. The smell of Erik’s hair as they cuddled in bed. He could feel his hands start to shake. Ignore it, he thought to himself. His door, the arched woodwork of it leapt out at him. Dust had settled around the edges. Obviously it hadn’t been opened in months, no one had bothered. No one lived there. Struggling to pull himself up and Charles’s hand still shaking, he creaked the door open. The dust slammed into him like the wind, he inhaled the smell of everything. His room. He looked over at the bed and saw the blue sheets were still slightly rustled from the morning before Cuba.

He could remember rushing out of bed when he realised the time. Erik beside him, as they put on their clothes. Kissing each other quickly before hurrying downstairs, blushing slightly as they entered the kitchen. Everyone knew what was going on, and he saw Alex and Sean exchange glances before Charles gave them a stern look. Little did Charles know, that would be their last kiss. Last chance at romance. One that wasn’t long enough, one that Charles wished he could relive forever.

Charles felt his hands getting shakier, he couldn’t breathe. But he had to get to his bed - he had to get to Erik. He hauled himself up onto the dusty sheets, not even thinking about the odd angles he accidentally put his legs at. Gasping for breath, he leaned over and hugged Erik’s pillow. He was instantly met with the calming sense of Erik. His shampoo, his cologne, his everything. Tears slipped down Charles’s cheeks, his breath slowly returning. Memories of Erik flooded his mind, and Charles didn’t try to battle them away, instead giving into the rapid fire of everything that happened between them.

Charles continued to breathe in the scent that calmed him. As he fell into the a deep slumber that he hadn’t reach in years, he registered Alex and Hank’s whispers outside his door.

***

Hank had never seen a trail of blood from the stairs to Charles’s bedroom upstairs, and an abandoned wheelchair at the bottom. But, today was a first for everything he thought. As Hank climbed the stairs he saw Alex pacing outside Charles’s bedroom. He looked worried - his brow was creased and his fists were clenched, knuckles white.

“What’s going on?” Hank asked,

“He’s in his room,” Alex stopped pacing and looked at Hank surprised,

“Charles?”

“Yes, who else would it be bozo. I thought you were the smart one,” Hank knew it was meant to be a joke but Alex said it without laughing,

“Why?”

“I don’t know.”

“Do we check?”

“I don’t know.”

Hank growled and pushed past Alex, “He’s bleeding, it’s down the hall,” Hank pointed to the stairs, and Alex’s eyes noticed the blood on the rug for the first time,

“What the fuck happened?”

“I think he tried to climb the stairs,” Hank murmured. Suddenly, they heard a whimper from inside Charles’s bedroom, “I think he’s hurt, we need to help him, Alex can you get the first aid kit?”

“On it,” Alex jogged down the stairs towards the lab to get any and all supplies Hank might need.

Hank turned the knob on the door, and prepared himself for the worst. Instead, he found a darkened room, Charles on his bed, hugging what Hank assumed was Erik’s pillow. Charles was whimpering in his sleep, possibly having a nightmare, but Hank didn’t want to wake him up. Hank’s eyes trailed down to Charles’s arms and wrists. They were bruised, with little cuts going up and down. It looked as if Charles had hurt himself getting out of his wheelchair. He chuckled, it was impressive that Charles managed to get himself up stairs let alone into bed.

Alex ran in with the first aid kit, but stopped short at Charles’s sleeping state, “He’s not hurt, let’s get his wheelchair up and leave him be,” Hank whispered, not wanting to wake Charles up,

“Ok,” Alex took another look at Charles, staring at Erik’s pillow in his arms, and backed out of the room, Hank closely following.

***

1970

Alex woke up to a letter. Vietnam. He was being called. He tried to send a message to Charles, but soon realised he couldn’t. If he went, only Hank would be left to look after him, and Alex wasn’t sure how well that would go. He had to go today, otherwise he would never leave. Alex found an old rucksack in the cupboard by the stairs and filled it with most of his belongings - he’d never been one to hoard. Alex didn’t pack his most precious items: the birthday presents he’d received from Sean over the years, a few letters from Scott and the books Charles had given him to read but never had. He tried to memorise his room, unsure of when he’d return.

Once everything was packed, Alex tried to find Hank, and found him in the lab, preparing the next dose of serum for Charles.

“Hey Bozo,” Hank jolted around which made Alex chuckle,

“What do you want,” Hank grumbled,

“I’ve been called,”

“Where?”

“Jesus Hank why are you so stupid sometimes,” Alex laughed at Hank’s glare, “Vietnam,”

“Shit,”

“Yeah,”

“What about Charles?” Hank asked, as he realised he’d have to look after the telepath by himself, although he wasn’t much of a telepath now.

“I have to go,”

“Sure,”

“Don’t make me feel guilty,” Alex frowned not realising how hard this would be, “I need to go today,”

“Why?”

“Otherwise I won’t go at all, and they’ll come and arrest me,”

“Ah,” Hank walked over and shocked Alex with a hug, “Say goodbye to Charles, please,”

Alex nodded and left the lab, looking for Charles - he wouldn’t be far. Hugs from Hank were few and far between so Alex knew he was getting emotional. Charles was sitting in the office reading a book, so composed. His brow was furrowed as if he was concentrating on something - probably keeping something out.

“Prof,” Alex muttered, Charles bloodshot eyes flew up, his greasy hair falling over his eyebrows,

“Alex,” He put his book down, almost knocking the empty bottle of whiskey on the coffee table, “What brings you to me,”

“I’m leaving… it’s Vietnam.” Alex sighed, the backs of his eyes burning. But he refused to cry, not in front of the professor, he wouldn’t make this harder,

“When?” Charles stood up shakily and stumbled over, gripping on Alex’s shoulder for support,

“Now,” Alex had hauled his pack onto his shoulder, he leaned into the professor for a hug and was met with a strong embrace. “Don’t do anything stupid whilst I’m gone, Hank won’t want to clean up the mess,” Charles chuckled and pulled away, leading Alex toward the door,

“Don’t get yourself killed, I don’t want to be mourning anymore of my children,” He said seriously. They both thought back to the letter they had about Sean just months before, the pain still fresh in their minds.

“Of course I won’t,” Alex smirked, he gave one last look at Charles, and saw Hank emerging from the Lab, “Bye Hank!” Alex called. All of their eyes tinged with tears, but none were shed.

Alex looked around at the place he’d called home for the past three years, hoping that he would see it again. “Bye Professor,” They smiled at each other, and Charles waved him off as he walked down the drive.

Alex suddenly turned around remembering something “And Hank!” He shouted, “Get him a cat!”