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The pain behind his eyes, the ache in his body, the blood on his hands. Not knowing where he’s going to get clean, not knowing where he’s going to wake up tomorrow. No place to call home.
It’s been years — decades — of living this life and, quite frankly, he’s getting too old for it to continue.
He wants a home, a safe place. He wants to wake up every morning to the man he loves more than anyone. He wants to see where their future leads.
He didn’t think he would ever feel this way again after everything that happened in the past. After losing his parents, learning to love and trust again, losing Charles, learning for the third time, then losing Magda and Nina. If he ends up in that situation once again, he doesn’t know what will happen. He’ll end it, most likely.
That doesn’t change the fact that he wants to try it again. Through the years, he and Charles have been many things, friends, lovers, and enemies, but no matter what, he has never stopped loving him.
Even still, there’s an ache in his chest when he loses himself in those memories. Waking up beside Charles, the relaxed and content look that was on his face as he continued on sleeping. Bringing him a cup of tea in the afternoon and seeing the way his face lit up. Their evening game of chess, the look of focus and concentration on his face as he considered his move, the passion in his voice as they argued their stances on mutant politics.
Erik misses every bit of it and wants to go back there. He misses that place, that love, the happiness, the feelings he once thought he would never be able to experience, but had the chance to, thanks to Charles.
The thoughts swirling through his mind leave him with one possible option. He reaches up, pulling the helmet off his head and dropping it to the ground. The sound it makes hitting the concrete under his feet seems to echo out, as though signifying the large meaning behind the action.
Slowly, he makes his way across the urban battlefield. Pieces of metal, chunks of concrete, street lights, benches, and ruined buildings litter the streets. He walks across it all, trying not to think about the pain he’s in, the drops of blood he’s walking over. If he thinks about it, it’ll all become too much.
He doesn’t stop until he’s standing in front of Charles, who is sitting in his chair, looking up at him as though knowing why he’s there. Most likely, he knows what Erik is doing, the helmet is off and left behind, after all, and no matter what people think, Charles doesn’t have as many issues with using his powers in moments like this.
“What are you doing here, my friend?” Charles asks, looking up at him, but the look on his face is enough for Erik to know he wants to hear him say the words. There is no other reason for his question.
“I don’t want to do this anymore, Charles,” He replies, his voice quiet, only loud enough for the two of them to hear, despite all the others still standing around. The X-Men are gathered around Charles, protectively, but Erik ignores them. The brotherhood is at his back as well, watching them but not as protectively. They know their leader is capable of fighting his own battles, but this is one he doesn’t want to fight anymore.
“I’m tired of fighting.” Erik sounds defeated, even to his own ears and he hates it. He’s not admitting defeat, but he does want to give in to Charles. He wants to talk this out and come to a compromise. He wants the other man by his side for the rest of his life. It’s no longer a question and he just hopes Charles won’t turn him away again.
As though hearing his thoughts, Charles nods once, “Come back with me to the school,” Charles replies, “We can talk there and see what decisions we can come to. I’ve told you before, my friend, you always have a home with me.”
The reminder is almost enough to make Erik cry. There is nothing he wants more than a home with Charles and, the more he thinks about it, the more he realizes that's been the case since Cuba.
He nods, “Okay, give me a moment to talk to the brotherhood, I’m not going to leave them without a word, and then I’ll follow.”
Charles smiles at him and any weight or doubt Erik was feeling, he’s not now. He watches as Charles rolls away towards the plane as Erik turns to talk to the brotherhood.
Normally, he would be more careful with the explanation, taking time to consider outcomes, how the others may take the news, and the backlash from it. Now though, he can’t be bothered. Charles is waiting for him and that’s the only thing on his mind as he begins explaining that he’s leaving them. He explains why he’s going and informs them they can choose their next leader on their own. He’s done with fighting and pain and running from what he’s wanted all his life. Maybe it’s time to be a little selfish.
He just hopes he doesn’t end up fighting them in the future. He’s not sure what he would do in that case.
During the plane ride, neither Charles nor Erik say anything. Erik stays in the back, sitting with Pietro as Charles rides in the front with Beast and Cyclops.
“So, what are you doing now, man? Going back with us?” Pietro asks, leaning back in his seat next to Erik who is leaning forward, elbows on his knees and hands clasped between them. He looks back at his son.
“Yeah. I’m planning on staying this time. I’ve realized I’ve been running from what I’ve wanted my whole life and decided I should just accept it and come back.”
“You are getting pretty old, I can see why you’re quitting that,” Pietro says, nodding and Erik chuckles softly.
“Thanks for that, mein Sohn,” He replies.
“Welcome, old man,” Pietro says with a smile. “But you said go back there? The school? When were you there before?”
Erik looks at his boy, though he’s certainly more of a young man now, and sighs, “A lifetime ago. Probably when you were a little boy. Maybe before you were born,” Erik really needs to reflect on his life a little and find out how old his son is but that doesn’t seem like something he should just ask him right now. He wouldn’t want to hurt his feelings by not knowing that.
“Not long after I met Charles. We were working for the CIA and after an attack, he brought us to the mansion. I only stayed there for a couple of weeks. It was long before it became the school it is now. Just the two of us, Mystique, Cyclops’s older brother, Beast, a couple of others, Darwin, Banshee, and Angel, they’re dead now though.”
“You have been doing this for a long time then,” Pietro says, as though just realizing, “I mean, I saw the whole Whitehouse thing but I guess I didn’t know there was so much before that.” He says and there’s silence where Erik knows there’s something else his son wants to say before he eventually opens his mouth and asks, “Why did you leave then?”
Erik opens his mouth and then snaps it shut before the pained sound can leave him. It takes him a moment to try again. “Charles wanted me to. I was an idiot. I had accomplished my life goal, one I thought I wouldn’t survive, and then I didn’t know what to do,” He lists off before sighing.
“What did ya do, man?” Pietro asks and Erik gives him an unamused look, “What did ya do?” He asks again.
“You ask me that too much,” He informs him but continues on, “Cuba. We were in Cuba. Charles didn’t want me to, but he helped me kill the man that killed my mother, your grandmother,” He smiles softly for a second. His mama would be proud of her grandson, he only wishes she was around to meet him. Quickly, he pushes those thoughts away and clears his throat.
“Anyway, I was…I don’t know. Not thinking clearly, being myself, I don’t know. The humans launched missiles at us, I was trying to turn them around on them. Charles wanted me to stop, I had the helmet. I didn’t want to hurt him but we ended up fighting. Moira, a CIA agent, started shooting at us, I was deflecting the bullets instead of stopping them.” He pauses, wondering if he could even continue the story, but Pietro seems to be hanging onto every word so, after a moment, he continues.
“Charles was behind me. I wasn’t paying attention and one went into his spine. I saw him falling in the corner of my eye and ran for him. It was…I had hurt someone I loved all over again. It was like watching my mama get shot and hit the floor all over again, but it was a whole different type of pain. No less intense, but different.” He’s vaguely aware that he’s never talked to anyone about this before. Pietro doesn’t even know about how his mama died, but now he’s started and wants to finish the story.
“I held him in my arms, and got the bullet out, as though that would fix everything I had just done. It didn’t. Might have made it worse but at the moment I was…panicking, I guess. I told Charles I wanted him by my side and we wanted the same things. He said no, and that we didn’t. So I left. I started the brotherhood and Charles and I fight it out anytime we get the chance.”
Pietro is staring at him, he realizes, and then thinks that might have been a lot to take in for the boy. “So, you’re part of the reason the professor is in a wheelchair? He could walk when you met.”
Erik nods but doesn’t trust himself to say anything. He wants to insist it wasn’t his fault, but knows that would be a lie. He did it. He knows that now. It was because of him that the bullet was lodged in Charles’s back and that’s something he had to accept years ago.
“And it happened while you were panicking. And I’m sure he was as well with, ya know, having just had a bullet in his spine. Still, neither of you thought maybe you should talk it out when you calmed down?” He asks, the tone in his voice suggesting he thought they were both idiots.
“Well, not long after that I was locked up in the pentagon, and you know that story.”
“Still, panic can make you do stupid things, like throwing around bullets or running off people you love,” Pietro states, then laughs. “You and the professor are just a dramatic romance novel. My sister would love to read this story. It better have a happy ending.”
Erik finds himself glaring at his son again.
“I mean, come on. You had just faced the guy that killed your mom. He had just been shot. Of course, neither of you was thinking clearly!” Pietro continues and Erik has to give him points for making sense, but that doesn’t make him any happier right now.
“Again, thanks,” Erik replies and then he feels arms wrapping around his middle as Pietro hugs him.
“You’re welcome, dad.”
And how is Erik supposed to stay mad after that? He turns and wraps an arm around his son as well, hugging him back.
Though he can’t say he isn’t happy when they land a few minutes later and Erik gets to walk off the plane, his mind is still replaying everything that Pietro had said.
His mind keeps going as he makes his way up the stairs to Charles’s study, walking slowly to give the other man a chance to beat him up there in the elevator. He tracks his wheelchair with his powers as he makes his way to the study just moments after Charles himself got there.
“Come on in, my friend,” Charles says, the door open as he transfers from his wheelchair to the couch. “Close the door when you come in.”
Erik nods and does as he’s told, waving his hand as he walks into the room, the door carefully being pushed closed behind him.
He doesn’t know what to do, what to say, or where to start, now that they’re both here. He stands awkwardly just inside the door, looking around the room, feeling like the tension could be cut with a knife.
“Come, sit, my friend,” Charles instructs, patting the couch next to him, plenty of room for Erik to join him, which he does, sitting on the edge and then slowly moving back.
“I heard what you told Peter,” Charles starts when Erik still can’t decide where to begin. “You know, no other student knows about that story, what happened between us, everyone, on the beach. I’ve never talked about it to them. They don’t know how the accident happened.”
Erik looks over at Charles, feeling guilty now. “I’m sorry,” He whispers, “I didn’t know it wasn’t something you were talking about. I should have asked you before I said anything to him, but he had questions, and once I started talking…” Charles is shaking his head and Erik doesn’t know why.
“That’s not what I mean, love. I’m not mad that you told him about it. I was afraid of what the students would think about you if they knew. I didn’t want them holding that against you. I was wrong back then, and I think Peter had a point. What happened, that wasn’t your fault. It wasn’t Moira’s fault. I was the one not paying attention to what was going on,”
Erik opens his mouth but Charles holds up a finger and shakes his head, “You weren’t paying attention either, and Moira should have known better than shooting metal bullets at someone who controls metal. There was no ill intent, but we were all running on adrenaline and making rash decisions. It wasn’t anyone’s fault, just a lot of bad decisions that had life-changing consequences.”
There is so much Erik wants to say. It was his fault. It was Moira’s. It wasn’t Charles’s fault, how could it be? That’s blaming the victim, something that shouldn’t be done. There was ill intent, Moira was shooting at him, for God’s sake.
“But it was something you had the power over. And, while I agree that victim blaming is usually bad, I’m also not saying I’m to blame. I’m saying no one is. It was because of everyone and, therefore, at the fault of no one.”
Erik looks at Charles for a moment, the gears spinning in his head before he eventually settles on, “So, you forgive me?”
Charles sighs softly, “I’m saying there is nothing to forgive, darling. But, if it makes you feel better, then yes, I forgive you.”
Erik nods, deciding to accept it that way instead. It does make him feel better about everything, even if he isn’t sure he deserves the forgiveness.
“And as for me telling you to leave, that wasn’t what I meant. Not really. I’ve told you that you’re welcome to stay here, anytime you want. I mean that. I always have. Then though I could tell you wanted something different. You wanted the brotherhood, to fight for your own beliefs. I didn’t mean I didn’t want you there with me, I wasn’t trying to make you leave or end what we had.”
A laugh forces its way out of Erik, though it sounds sad, closer to a sob. It’s starting to sound like the last four decades of his life were a huge misunderstanding, something that could have been avoided by only talking to each other.
“Communication is key, they always say,” Charles adds, looking up at Erik, a small, sad smile on his face. Charles sighs softly. “Darling, I think we’ve both been idiots for too long.”
“So many years spent fighting, determined to misunderstand each other,” Erik replies, “And still so many of them to clear up.”
Charles looks at him, confused, “What else is there? I’ve cleared up what I needed to. You know now that I don’t really blame you for the beach, nor did I want you to leave.”
Erik looks over at him, his hand sliding out to the middle seat of the couch and it only takes Charles a moment to place his hand over it, accepting the offering.
“All those times I commented that I wasn’t wearing my helmet and you could control my mind, those were invitations,” Erik starts, “I meant what I said when you broke me out of the pentagon. I wanted you then, in my mind,” And otherwise too, but that seems like too much to say out loud right now. “And all those times I’ve mentioned it since then. I’ve just…you said then you never wanted to be in my head again. I worried that you meant that.” It was a rejection he wasn’t sure he could handle.
Charles gives him a small smile, “Kinky,” He mumbles and Erik laughs before he can stop himself. Charles joins in though, his laugh a sound that Erik has sorely missed over the years.
“We can do something about that soon, darling. And I’ve been in your mind since your helmet came off.”
“And I’ve enjoyed it,” Erik adds, “I always did like it when you were in my mind. I just used to worry that you wouldn’t enjoy it in my mind. I know it can be dark sometimes.”
“But there’s always light in there as well. Sometimes it’s just a little harder to find. A challenge I have enjoyed since the first time you let me in.”
Erik smiles over at Charles. “There is one more thing then, while we’re talking about all of this.”
“I believe we have a guest outside the door,” Charles sends him as a warning. The last thing isn’t something Erik minds if it’s overheard though. “It’s Peter.”
“Mind if we invite him in then?” Erik asks back, looking over at Charles who shakes his head.
“Come on in, Pietro,” Erik calls out, turning to look at the door, swinging it open with his powers, revealing his son with a sheepish look on his face.
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to eavesdrop or anything, but some of the other kids said you were talking up here and I guess I was curious if it was a good talk or not.”
Charles smiles at the boy and Erik feels his heart melting, especially as Charles’s hand tightens around his own, not moving away the way he had feared.
“It’s a good talk, no need to worry. Your father said he had one more thing to say, though.”
“Oh, I can go then,” Pietro says, turning to dash out but Erik’s powers grab onto the metal on the boy, his belt, jacket, chain around his neck, and watch, trying to even out the pull so he doesn’t hurt him.
“Actually, there’s no reason you can’t hear this too,” He begins and then takes a deep breath, “My name isn’t really Erik. It’s Max.” He looks from Charles’s shocked face to Pietro’s.
His son recovers first, “Then why are we all calling you Erik? What’s up with that?”
Erik smiles, this time he’s the one looking sheepish, an almost identical look to his son earlier. “Well, when we first met, Charles pulled me out of the ocean and called me Erik. Between the battle, the strange little British man reading my mind after just jumping in the ocean to save a stranger, and almost drowning while overexerting my powers, I decided it wasn’t that important. I didn’t think I would stick around long. Then as we got to know each other, it just seemed weird to correct it. He introduced me as Erik to more and more people and I never knew when the right time to admit the mistake would be. I mean, he seemed so sure of himself and I didn’t want to crush that. But, it’s been decades now and I thought if I don’t say something now, I never will.”
“You had so many chances to mention that!” Pietro says.
“Coming from the boy who is going by Peter when your name is Pietro,” Erik returns and his son stops talking for a second before shrugging.
“Okay, you’ve got me there.”
They both look to Charles who still hasn’t spoken. “Anything to add, Liebling?” Erik asks softly.
“That was the name closest to the front of your mind. I mean people don’t just go around thinking about what their name is, it involves a little more digging, but that was so close to the surface, I didn’t think…I thought it would have to be your name. It was right there with Ruth, but I knew that wasn’t it.”
Erik smiles sadly, “Ruth was my sister’s name. Erik…I don’t really know where that came from. I was born Max Eisenhardt. When you said Erik though, I decided it would be a good alas to go by. Not quite as terrifying as Magneto, but sort of the same. It was like Max had died with my family, the same way Henryk died with Nina and Magda. I became Erik.”
“So…you want to keep going by Erik?” Charles asks, looking over at him, and Erik can tell he’s a little embarrassed.
“Yes, I’m more Erik now than I am Max. I can’t still identify with that little boy anymore, that’s not who I am.” Erik looks over to Pietro, “You can go now, if you want, mein sohn.”
The two sit on the couch beside each other for the split second it takes Pietro to run off and then Erik is moving over, sliding closer to Charles until he can press their lips together.
“Thank you,” He whispers into the kiss, “For giving me a second chance, in more ways than one.”