self-respect. Charlotte knew she possessed enough of it not to show the longing. she shut every psychic wall in her mind with the strongest nails, with the heaviest hammer. even now, with treatment that helps telepath shut out the outside world and stand on her legs, Charlotte didn't need testament to know that it was not enough. because now, when she cradles bits of sleep, she can, Charlotte keeps wandering to the same person in them. what was the point of building those walls when they won't separate her from the very person for whom they were built?
Erika was like an addiction. almost. because she quit, they parted, she left . while thoughts of Erika, memories of her voice, touch and gaze, oh that gaze - firm yet tender for Charlotte and Charlotte only, were indeed an addiction. each syringe Hank dropped from time to time with a sympathetic face at the mansion mailbox carried some sense of her .
despite all the suffering Charlotte's life has turned into, the ghost, the shell of her past self she became, she wouldn't - couldn't - trade that to anything. pain. and Charlotte Xavier didn't want to get rid of it. maybe because it was the last thing which connected her to Erika Lehnsherr.
the sun was setting down - she saw that laying on stairs inside the mansion. silence was a gift now, Charlotte knew how to be thankful, but it still was not what she lived with most of her life. not a single voice, not even her own. sometimes she coughs aloud, sneezes louder than needed just to hear, herself at least.
there's no way she could sense the approaching to her door now. even if she did, everyone who knew this place now knows that no professor lives here anymore. resides? yes. her brown hair grew longer, tangled at the edges. the robe over pajamas was always on her like some kind of armour.
self-respect was truly an ambiguous concept. come to think of it, as Charlotte laid on stairs, she was reduced to this state because of… her , again. everything leads to Erika at the end. Charlotte sighs, perhaps she was doomed for that. she used to hope that tomorrow the aching stops, that something changes. but tomorrow was never about hope, it was only about plans which Charlotte couldn't make.
so when the door opens and footsteps can be heard, she doesn't even try to be loud. " no one present ", she sighs, only standing up to depart to the deepest corner of her study.
" I expected to find certain telepath here ", says a calm voice, owner of which leaves Charlotte no self-respect. because when she sees Erika, the resentment in her eyes takes a step back, pulling along the anger and exhaustion. leaving only longing, and Erika sees that.
Charlotte abandoned a lot of things, and she was abandoned too. but if spending a moment to talk to Erika meant abandoning her self-respect,
she would do that too.
there was no pity between them, for the star-crossed lovers they were. Erika knew how Charlotte felt both about her and overall, but her helmet was still on, her black hair spilling from beneath it. it gave a tug of sadness to Charlotte's occasional smiles. but any affection would result in pain – Erika knew that too. everything about her was metallic except the heart; it was alive, very much and knew how to bleed. what little Charlotte and Erika shared brought them here – to dusty steps, bruises on the crook of Charlotte's arm, a gloomy gaze and a helmet on Erika.
and yet, to whatever pain being with Erika subjected her, Charlotte sat closer. because longing was greater. because she never really quit Erika Lehnsherr.