Epilogue
Charles and Erik had a brief moment of respite after that, little glances stolen across classrooms and hands brushing during breakfast, nights spent relearning each other’s bodies. Erik fit in like he’d always been there, a puzzle piece slotting into place. He pushed the students, but he also inspired them, inspired Charles. And Charles gave him a kindness Erik swore he’d only ever known with him. Charles suspected this was what peace felt like.
So of course that was when the war started and the nightmares that came with it. Quiet fears from the older students and the staff, that they’d be drafted or their friends would be, until Charles could hardly tell his own anxiety from theirs. He knew Erik’s, flashes of Shaw and his experiments merging with the cold gazes of modern generals and scientists, of where the young mutants drafted would end up. Charles couldn’t say Erik was wrong and it made his stomach curdle, even as he held his hand or brushed kisses along his temples. But those thoughts were easy compared to the soldiers returning home for leave or with missing limbs, and Charles was trapped into their nightmares, every sip of tea tinged with blood and every dream covered in shrapnel. It was only after the third night he’d woken up screaming, throat raw, that Erik gave him a flat look and pressed their foreheads together. “Stay here.”
“I never left.” Charles reminded him softly, voice raw around the edges and gaze cloudy with tears. He brushed a thumb under Erik’s eyelid, feeling the soft skin there and trying to cling to the feeling instead of the one of a gun in his hand. “I’m just there too, and down the street and a several blocks away, and -“
“That isn’t what I mean. Stay in here.” Erik’s voice was firm as he brought a hand up to press two fingers by his temple, his meaning unmistakable. Charles let out a low exhale, his mind brushing his mind around the edges of Erik’s own. He usually stayed there, present but not under the surface. He had even before, not wanting to accidentally borrow any memories without permission, to spread an emotion where it wasn’t wanted. Erik shook his head, gaze tight as he kissed Charles on the corners of his mouth and then down his jaw, insistent and kind at the same time. You're wanted everywhere, Charles. You know that.
“I’d know all your thoughts, every feeling.” Charles warned him, brushing a hand through his hair. He let out a little sigh when Erik just shrugged, pressing a kiss to Charles’ temple this time. Charles closed his eyes, tangling their fingers together against the side of Erik’s head. “And you’d see all of mine.”
“I don’t mind.” Erik promised softly as he opened his eyes, a warmth to his gaze, his trust bright and strong as it buzzed across both their minds. Charles sighed and let himself slip into Erik, to let himself be embraced and protected by the walls and shields there. The nightmares and whispers from before weren’t gone, but they were a little easier to bear with Erik in his mind and at his side, holding him right and reminding him of who he was, of which memories were his a little more with every kiss and burst of fondness. Charles let himself fill the spaces in Erik’s mind, soothed the hurt parts and found the ragged edges and felt a sense of awe at them, and he hoped Erik saw how beautiful they were. Every line, every scar showed that Erik had survived, had built himself up time and time again, until he was the most intricate mind Charles had ever touched.
“Because you can’t see your own.” Erik murmured softly against his lips, and the conviction Charles felt in Erik’s mind then made something twist in his chest. There were no more words after that.
********
Eventually the draft came to their door, letters coming through the mail one by one, the daily mail trip now filled with a slowly rising dread. One day one of their newer teachers, Calvin Rankin, came back with a letter clutched in his hands expression blank. Charles nearly gagged at the terror he felt in his mind, even as he sat with Calvin, held his arm and went over every question with him, spent hours trying to find a loophole. But there weren’t any. Calvin had finally gone to bed, his mind quiet outside of the sound of bullets. Charles slipped into bed that night, pale and exhausted, even more so when he felt the shackles rise in Erik’s mind. Erik met his gaze with a sharp one of his own, lips pressed into a thin line. “You could stop them.”
“It wouldn’t be right.” Charles shook his head as he curled a little more toward Erik, flinching a bit when he felt the disappointment there, a heavy weight pressing down on him. Charles shifted away from Erik, toward the glass of water on his end table. He wished it was scotch instead, and Charles felt some of that frustration ebb, replaced with concern as Erik moved toward him, a hand brushing against his wrist.
“Neither is the draft.” Erik said shortly, words tight and bordering on harsh, a sharp contrast to the way he ran his thumb across Charles’ palm, gentle in a way no one else got to see but him. Charles swallowed as he shifted again, turning over so he could meet Erik’s gaze with a tired one of his own.
“I don’t disagree, but I won’t do that to someone else.” Charles told him in a low voice, and then he sealed his words with a kiss, lingering and tasting like salt. Erik sighed against his mouth, but they didn’t speak of it again. A few weeks later, Calvin went to war, and a few months after that he came home in a body bag. He and Erik shared a look that day, quiet and devastated, and Charles nodded almost imperceptibly.
The letter for Sean came next, and Charles and Erik drove him to the medicals, a quiet tension spreading through the car. Sean failed his medicals swiftly, and Erik met his gaze, knowing and proud. After that it was decided, and when Alex’s draft letter came, he failed too, and then Franklin and Jean-Paul, and dozens of soldiers who weren’t mutants but were terrified enough that Charles couldn’t let them be taken.
He slid into mind after mind, doctors and nurses losing several minutes of their day every few weeks, plans to send a mutant to scientific bases erased before they were ever fully formed. Charles destroyed memory after memory, as easily as if they were tissue paper. Every second he took from them left him nauseous, endless cups of tea and glasses of wine replacing meals, until he started losing weight, a bit like after Cuba. Erik glared at him every time he skipped a meal, mouth twisted into a snarl that would be frightening, if not for the love behind it. It came to a head one day when Charles fell asleep in his study after his last class, splayed out across his books at four in the afternoon. He woke up to the feeling of Erik cupping his jaw, and dozens of memories of the same moment flash across his mind. Erik’s gaze was warm and amused in all of those though, not the tight, heavy thing it is now. “You need to eat.”
“I need to be locked up somewhere.” Charles hissed as he met his gaze, and he could feel the anger rising in his chest, the guilt. It was a hot, shuddering emotion, half born out of his actions and half born out of a dullness in his stomach that had become his newest friend. He shook his head, bringing one shaking hand up to clutch Erik’s own, tangling their fingers together. They’ve held each other like this a million times, before and after, but somehow this felt different. Charles felt different, felt like he had that night with Kurt. Except this was – not worse, but equally damning, Charles taking people’s memories away as easily as he’d locked his own away. “I told you once, that it would destroy me.”
“Only because you’re letting it.” Erik’s words were clipped and exhausted, and he let go of Charles’ hand. Charles didn’t know what expression he made, but Erik shook his head, gaze softening as he shifted his own chair so he was facing Charles. He leaned in until there was almost no space between them, pressing his hands against his shoulders. Charles felt the ghost of rain on his face, and wondered if Erik felt it too. Erik pressed their foreheads together, gaze warm and determined, grip a little tighter, as though trying to keep Charles in place. “You’re not doing anything wrong, Charles.”
“I took away their free will. Their memories.” Charles said in a tremulous voice, and he hated how weak he sounded, how terrified. But Charles knew what locking away his memories had done to him, or almost done, if Erik hadn’t been here. How long would it be before one of those doctors or nurses woke up with memories that weren’t theirs, hands making invisible notes and altering files? Would they be haunted like he’d been, or -
“No, because it was only a minute, not an entire person and their lover.” Erik cut his thoughts off, bringing his hand up to cup his cheek instead. Erik pressed their foreheads together, his thoughts reaching out toward Charles, warm and inviting. In Erik’s eyes, he’d done the right thing, the only thing. He’d used his powers to protect his fellow mutants, and then because Charles was too kind for his own good, for terrified young men who didn’t belong to them. Charles saw his every action colored with warmth and awe at his strength and compassion. He imagined the truth was somewhere in the middle, but that there was a middle was enough to make the tightness in his throat start to ease. Erik ran a thumb across his lips, gaze steady as he pushed a little more. “And if you hadn’t, Alex and Sean and who knows who else would’ve been rounded up and experimented on and killed. Which would weigh heavier on your consciousness?”
“You had Hank make my favorite lasagna.” Charles murmured in lieu of an answer, because Erik already knew it, could see it in the way Charles flinched at the idea and in the sharp intake of breath he took. Erasing people’s memories and changing their yes’s to no’s hurt him, yes, but he knew that the price he paid was worth it for every life he saved. If Erik hadn’t come back, Charles would’ve trusted the government enough not to try and interfere, either because his brief wariness faded away, or because his memories pushed their way to the surface and he became more afraid of his powers than men with it. He would’ve watched as teacher after teacher was drafted, and then the students, until he was left with nothing but silence and his own guilt, the occasional whispers of gunshots and terror flitting across his mind. If Charles felt shattered now, what that man would’ve become wasn’t worth considering.
Charles let Erik lead him to the kitchen, and he watched Sean animatedly tell a story about his last art class while Alex helped his little brother Scott with his math homework, the hum in the back of his mind safe and content. After that, it was the easiest thing in the world to eat his dinner and ask for seconds. Erik grinned and made him another plate, leaning over and kissing his temple, his relief spreading through both their minds.
Charles still felt a stab of guilt at times, but he remembered that moment and all the ones that had come before and after, and it was enough not to let the pain win.
Erik and Charles reached an equilibrium after that, and there was a calm in the months that came after, Erik confident in the knowledge that his mutant brothers and sisters would be safe. Or at least the ones Charles could reach, the rest – the rest they would find and protect, or avenge when they weren’t fast enough. That was the only option. They still had rough nights when Charles got lost in someone else’s suffering or his own guilt, but Erik would bring him out of it little by little, just like Charles would remind him that he wasn’t alone, would hold him and bear witness every time the present reminded him of his past. Erik had nights where he wanted to destroy the world, and Charles would listen and then remind him of all the things they wanted to protect, of the world they would build for each student here. They took care of each other, and in turn that let them take care of Charles’ school and Erik’s cause.
Things would’ve carried on that way, except one morning Hank came into Charles’ study, pale and lanky, exactly like the unsure young man he’d met four years ago. Charles scrunched up his nose at the sight, and Erik couldn’t blame him. After a year of seeing the real Hank, this version felt like a pale imitation, lacking the strength Erik had come to rely on in the other man. Hank glanced between them, a nervous energy crackling in the air between them, even as Hank cleared his throat, gaze finally resting on Charles. “I finally perfected it, the serum.”
“I’d call that more of a downgrade.” Erik said dryly as he gave Hank a withering once over. He’d gotten used to the thick blue fur and solid muscle, the way those wise blue eyes shone with amusement when Hank hung upside down from the ceiling in his lab, or how he’d carry the younger students on his shoulders. It wasn’t just that though. Hank carried himself with a certain confidence now, a careful pragmatism and assurance that Erik trusted. The idea of him going backwards, of losing that, didn’t sit right with him.
“I could alter it for you too, Charles. If my calculations are right, I think I could redirect the neural pathways so you could walk.” Hank said without sparing Erik so much as a glance, each word like a tiny stab. The only relief was the way Charles paled, his grip on the rims of his chair a bit tighter than before. Erik tried to keep his expression, because it wasn’t his place to interfere. Not when the world wasn’t built for Charles in ways Erik couldn’t understand. He just hoped Charles could feel his own terror at the idea of losing his powers underneath the curiosity and cautious hope. Hank kept going, words careful and composed, a nervous quality to his voice. “But you’d lose your powers entirely when you were on it.”
“No.” Erik snapped in a low voice, gaze sharp and piercing, the metal in the room all shuddering to life. A few of the doorknobs broke off, turning toward Hank before collapsing onto the floor. He wouldn’t lose Charles to a drug. So much for interfering. Charles' voice filled his mind wry and amused, the emotions from before even more vivid. “I’m only interfering if you make the wrong choice.”
“That was very kind of you, Hank.” Charles leaned over and patted him on the wrist, meeting his gaze and tilting his head toward the door. Hank took the hint, giving Charles one last look Erik couldn't quite read, the two of them sharing a language of their own. Charles waited until Hank was gone to collapse though, pulling in on himself as the tension in his jaw started to fade. He looked up at Erik with a painful little smile, gaze soft and far away, and Erik didn’t need Charles’ mind in his to know what memories lingered there. Kurt’s death, yes, but more so all the suffering Charles bore witness to day in and day out, the deaths. I wonder sometimes, if there’d be relief in the silence.”
“You have no idea what it’s like to be alone in your own mind, Charles. You wouldn’t like it.” Erik said it matter of factly rather than as a warning, and Charles merely sighed and turned his gaze back toward his newspaper. Erik rolled to his feet, pressing a quick kiss to his temple as he headed for the door. He had a rally to lead in Pittsburgh, and he’d rather be there than here wondering if he’d lose Charles again. His mind kept going back to it anyway, every speech turning into a cry for mutants to embrace their powers, to see them for the incredible things they could do. To not sacrifice a fundamental part of themselves because of fear.
Erik knew that if he were in Charles’ range, he’d be there with him, supporting him and pointing out threats, letting him know where the closest bathroom was. He knew because he’d done it before when he went to New York and Albany, and even the idea of losing that made his stomach turn. Charles would still be Charles if he lost his powers, and Erik would love him but … he wouldn’t be the same man, if he gave them up willingly. He might find a way back to himself, but it would only be by accepting himself and his powers, not by denying them. They both know what denial did to Charles.
Erik hadn’t needed to worry, it turned out, Charles mind wrapping around him the moment he set foot on the grounds. Erik made his way through the hallways and up the elevator, sighing in relief as he sat down next to Charles on their bed. Charles, who was in a pair of oversized striped pajamas with his hair all a mess, his mind hazy with sleep even as it held Erik steady. Erik leaned over and took his hand, running his thumb across his wrist and feeling the pulse there, thrumming in time with his mind. “You didn’t take it.”
Charles glanced over at him, smile crooked as his sheepishness spread through both their minds and left a chill in the air. I took one dose. The science was sound and I needed to know how it worked, if only to see how it might be weaponized. Charles took a deep breath, shaking his head as he leaned against Erik, and he suspected that his exhaustion might not just be from the late hour . It would work but …
But? Erik shifted so they were both lying down, knowing that come the morning Charles would chastise him for having his shoes on the bed. For now he just curled against him, breath warm and mind hazy as he curled into the space between them.
You were right about the loneliness. Charles let the memory of the one dose spread between them, the brief sensation of feeling coming back down his spine, past his hips and then down to thighs. But with muscle that came back to life, the hum in the back of his mind grew dimmer, fading away completely when he got the feeling in his toes back. Charles was alone and it was terrifying, and Erik felt the alienness of it even though it was how his own mind was everyday. He felt Charles take a few shaky steps with the help of some canes, listened to Hank go on about some nonsense, and then Charles was throwing up, dizzy from the lack of minds and the aftereffect of the serum. I’d adjust in time, I’m sure but … I’d miss your mind too much.
Such a romantic. Erik pulled him into a kiss, feeling both their love for each other blending together until he could barely tell their emotions apart. Anything would feel lonely after this, and Erik would do everything in his power to make sure that Charles never experienced that feeling again, even if it meant destroying Hank’s lab and every drop of serum there.
It didn’t come down to that though. Charles never mentioned taking the serum again, even as Hank came to breakfast and classes and training with half the strength and none of the fur for weeks. Raven kept glaring at him out of the corner of her eye, and Erik watched her drag him off more than once for conversations Charles won’t tell him about, even though he’s almost positive he’s listening in to every single one. Erik didn’t know what passed between them, except one day he saw Raven drag him behind a closed door when the fur started sprouting on his hand, and after that Hank didn’t take the serum again.
Charles still wouldn’t tell him, but he caught him and Raven sharing secretive little smiles across the room, and Hank seemed more comfortable with himself, so it didn’t really matter. What mattered was that each student and teacher here was embracing their powers more and more, no matter what they were or how they made them look. Seeing Raven and Hank embrace their powers and their blue skin helped them all feel more confident in themselves and their gifts.
Well, all except one. Jean Grey was terrified of her telepathy, clinging to Charles’ during the day and after their private lessons, gazing up at him like he had all the answers to her prayers. It was sweet, in a way, especially how Charles would hold her hand and tell her stories, help her with her letters and show her how to project her thoughts with colors and flavors. It would be even kinder if she didn’t seem so timid, but every time Erik brought it up, Charles just shook his head and pressed a kiss to his forehead and said it wasn’t his story to tell. But then one night she came to their door, clutching a teddy bear, those green eyes wide and terrified as she pressed her fingers to her temples. “It hurts.”
“I know, but that pain is a part of you, Jean. And when it becomes too much to bear, I’ll be here to help you, and so will Erik and Raven and Ororo and Scott, and everyone else who loves you.” Charles murmured as he sat up, shifting himself from the bed to his chair in an easy motion, straightening his legs out before he leaned over toward her. Jean ran toward him, letting Charles wrap her up in a hug, sitting her on his lap as he rocked her back and forth. Erik watched and for a second he wasn’t in his bed but in a car, surrounded by loud trucks and his parents - no, not his, Jean’s arguing - and it was too much, and then she brought their car to a stop and another car didn’t stop in time and - Oh.
Charles didn’t hide her fear from her or take the pain, didn’t rewrite the memory in more soothing colors, like Erik suspected he might have done once. Instead he held her and told her, in an edited version, about how his powers had scared him too, been beyond his control, but that together he and Jean would learn and grow stronger. That her memories might hurt, but that was because she was good, that her powers were too. Some of it was out loud, and Erik knew there was another conversation going on he couldn’t hear, one that soothed Jean and let her fall asleep in Charles’ arms. Erik’s mind was buzzing after that, so he sat up waiting when Charles came back from putting Jean to bed, his own gaze tired and affectionate. “You’re good with her.”
“I was just repeating what you taught me.” Charles murmured softly as he came to the side of the bed, transferring himself out of his chair and back onto the bed. He smiled gently as he and Erik were both wrapped up in the memory of the first night Charles remembered and that night in the rain, Erik’s love and conviction bright in both their memories. Charles’ eyes brimmed with tears, the same way they did every time he remembered those moments, but they were tears of love and relief, so Erik didn’t brush them away.
“You taught me first.” Erik corrected him gently, and the moment at the wall flashed across both their minds, the candles warm and singing in both their memories, quickly followed by every other time Charles reminded him that he was loved, that he was capable of the same kind of softness that defined Charles. Charles let out a breath, gaze apologetic and moved the same way it was each time he saw those moments, as though it were the first time he’d seen them all over again. “You just forgot.”
“And you helped me remember.” Charles kissed him at the thought, each word bright and thrumming with love, so much so that Erik felt like he was floating by the time Charles collapsed against his chest, the memories of every other kiss somehow embedded into that single one. Erik thought it was the most beautiful way anyone had ever said ‘I love you’ and kissed Charles again, knowing he’d remember this one and the next just as clearly.