Count The Ways

[x]

Goddamn Erik Lehnsherr.

What right did he have, after all these years, after all he’s done—what right did he have to apologize and look so sodding sincere? Erik shouldn’t look sincere. He was a criminal, a terrorist, he shot the damn president, for God’s sake—but he hadn’t. He had been trying to save Kennedy, unable to succeed in deflecting the bullet –what a depressing history you have with bullets, my friend—and didn’t that just make the bile rise in Charles’s throat? And even as Erik apologized, something that had never came willingly or easily to him in the past, Charles’s memory kept traitorously dragging him back to Cuban heat and his fingers at his temple as Shaw spoke the words first.

“I’m sorry for what happened in the camps, Erik. I truly am.”

The echoes of a madman imposing themselves on the words of a once-dear friend and Charles couldn’t take it—

“I’m sorry, Charles. For what happened. I truly am.”

And all Charles wanted to do was tell Erik exactly where he shove his damned apologies—but it would be cruel. Too cruel, and even as bitter and broken as Charles had become, he still couldn’t bear to be so cruel to those he cared for.

All he could do was knock back the rest of his drink and focus on the chessboard.

"It’s been a while since I’ve played."

It was easier to deal with the past decade when he could convince himself that Erik was a monster. It was easier to pretend that Erik honestly didn’t care and that Charles was a fool for ever bothering to care in the first place.

[Erik Lehnsherr]

To see Charles like this was a truly devastating sight. The man that had once been so strong, so confident, so wise . . . was now a broken man. To say that Erik's heart did not hurt for Charles would be false. He still regarded the man as a friend, a good friend, despite their contrasting views. Perhaps the most saddening thing was that Charles blamed him for most of what happened. For his paralysis. For taking Raven from him. Raven; a mutant that Erik had grown extremely found of and the very one who had united them once again. But now, Erik did not know how to aid his friend. When they first met, it had been Erik who'd been the one in shambles, looking for direction and needing that guidance that Charles had offered him. And now, it was Erik's mentor himself who appeared so broke and distraught. A once powerful mutant who didn't even has his abilities any more. Yes, this was all truly a devastating sight indeed.

Erik was doubtful that their friendship would ever be repaired, considering how clashing their perspectives were. However, he would take what he could get. And right now, Charles agreed to play a game of chess with him. Whatever tomorrow would bring, however separate their paths would go, this showed that they could still be somewhat civil. A common threat had brought them together, but Magneto knew that it would only be a matter of time before they severely disagreed on how to handle said threat. Never the less, Erik's apology was sincere. He would do anything to return to that moment in time and prevent the bullet from striking Charles. "I'll go easy on you," he told him, hoping to lighten the mood a little with a teasing remark.

Charles had said it had been a while since he'd played, and the feeling was mutual. For Magneto had been imprisoned for a decade and this brought forth a familiarity of how it used to be back in the day between them. Familiar, yet so much had changed. "Might finally be a fair fight," he added, continuing his tease, referring to Charles' inability to get inside his head and know his next move. A fact that Erik was taking full advantage of in more ways than in just a chess game. He took anther sip of his drink, another luxury he was rather enjoying after all that time in the god forsaken prison. He kept his eyes on Charles, feeling some of the tension ever so slightly be alleviated. But there was still much between them. Still much that may never be resolved.

[x]

Charles took black this time. Years ago, a lifetime ago, he’d played primarily as white; white got the first move and there were a number of strategic advantages to going first. Playing white at this point, as far as Charles was concerned, would be more akin to pretending he was someone else than going around with his telepathy suppressed.

“I’ll go easy on you,” Erik said, and Charles looked up at him, hardly believing it.

He knew that tone well; Erik had teased him in it often enough during their original time together, when they were debating viewpoints over scotch and Charles’s antique chess set. It was a dangerous brush with past memories Charles had tried to drown with alcohol and Hank’s serum. Any more old familiarity, and Charles feared he might shatter.

“Might finally be a fair fight.”

The pin dropped, and Charles didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. He grabbed his glass and had nearly brought the empty thing to his lips before he remembered he’d downed the alcohol already. Charles bit back a sigh as he surveyed the board and returned the empty tumbler to the table.

“White moves first, Erik."

If he could get through this game, then perhaps there was hope for whatever had existed between them to survive.

[Erik Lehnsherr]

Charles was granting him the position to move first. Interesting. Erik never took his eyes off of him, watching him carefully, as if having so much to say yet nothing to say at all. He glanced at the board for a brief moment, and without touching it, moved his pawn forward two squares. It wasn't that he was flaunting his powers in front of Charles necessarily. But perhaps a reminder to him of how great he could be if he kept his powers. He had told him that he got rid of them so that he could sleep, but Erik had enough faith in the man to believe that he would have been able to control it. Had he not just given up. Erik took another sip of his drink, taking in the sight of his friend, of how different his appearance and entire demeanor was.

Not wanting to say anything that could cause an argument, he decided to pick a subject that perhaps would be of mutual interest. Erik slightly leaned forward, letting himself ever so slightly relax and hoping his friend did the same. "So how did he say you two came to know each other in the future?" His question was one meant to distract their conversation from what existed between them. As Magneto was of course referring to Logan. The mutant with the claws. After his brief conversation with him, Erik had been told that Logan had tried to bring him down. So clearly they were not fighting for the same cause. To know that Magneto had not lost his resilience, and had lived such a long life, did provide some peace of mind to him. For he had known that he would dedicate his life to fighting for mutant rights, and it was rather reassuring to know that time validated his efforts.

[x]

It was a little like being watched by a bird of prey. Where Charles had once found exhilarating, even a bit comforting at points, all he felt now was the ever-growing desire to get as far away from that weighty gaze as possible. Charles made point of looking anywhere but at Erik’s eyes; if he made eye contact for longer than a split second, he couldn’t guarantee that he would make it through the game at all sober.

Then the bastard moved his pawn with his powers. While logic shouted at him that it wasn’t a slight, couldn’t actually be a slight—Erik was a bastard but he apparently still had some scraps of humanity rattling around in him—but all he could think of was Erik’s reaction to his powerlessness. The irony was enough to make Charles long to break something; when he’d had his telepathy and embraced it, Erik was all for shutting Charles out.

Stay out of my head.

And Charles, being the loving little idiot he had been, had obliged. Erik had asked, and so Charles would deliver. Permission was a necessity; what sort of person would he have been to disregard his friend’s request? So Charles had stayed out, and even though he’d kept his word, Erik had informed him that Charles was not trustworthy (and he never has been, has he? A telepath practically since birth; he should have been used to the fact that no one would trust him or care about him. All they saw when they learned of his mutation was someone who was privy to all their secrets, no matter how thoroughly uninterested Charles was) and put on the damned helmet.

Yet, still, foolish as he’d been, Charles had still held hope that Erik could be reasoned with. And what had that gotten him? A bullet in the back and hours of agony as he slowly bled out on foreign shores. Charles could kick himself for his naivety. In many ways, he already had. He moved one of his own pawns ahead.

"So how did he say you two came to know each other in the future?"

It was a topic change, much like the chess game they were currently playing. Charles grasped at it, as anything was better than the trail his thoughts had been following.

“Apparently, he comes to the school with a sort of amnesia and I help him overcome it,” Charles answered without looking up from the board, not having to guess to whom Erik was referring. “Logan didn’t offer all of the details, though it may be likely that if we succeed in stopping Raven, the details will be unimportant.”

[Erik Lehnsherr]

Erik listened to him explain the information that Logan had given him. It seemed that even the unfamiliar mutant had quite a past. It would make sense that he and Charles were allied in the future. For he did not exactly seem thrilled with Magneto's presence, yet it appeared to be a necessity. For Raven. Hearing Charles speak of her again, caused Erik to remain silent for a few moments. He knew he was angry at her for, as Charles had put it, taking her away from him. But she had seemed happy with him. He had not see her for so many years and so he wished that their reunion would be under better circumstances.

Yet it seemed that just as his reunion with Charles, it would be less than pleasant . . . if Erik was truly going to carry out the plan formulating in his mind. One that he did not even want to consider yet was painfully aware that it was necessary. "I suppose it is for the best," Erik finally said, regarding the details left unknown. "We have to leave some intrigue and curiosity for what remains in store in our futures," he said, continuing to attempt to ease the mood and tension a little. "He and I do not sound to be as amicable," he revealed. "Quite the shock, isn't it?" Erik questioned rhetorically as his lips curved into a bit of a smile, for his words were slightly sarcastic. For he was well aware that during his work, he would be creating a long list of adversaries. Logan sounded to be one of them.

[x]

With Logan as the apparent topic of choice, Charles couldn’t banish the echoes of what the man had said earlier. That Charles and Erik were together once again in the future, reconciled just in time for the bloody world to end. That would be how it goes, wouldn’t it? Years of standing juxtaposed to the other, of fighting each other, only to repair their severed bridges in time for a last ditch effort which might not even work. Charles couldn’t trust Erik, couldn’t stop waiting for another bullet in the back. How were they meant to do this?

“I suppose it is for the best,” Erik admitted. “We have to leave some intrigue and curiosity for what remains in store in our futures.”

Charles let out a faint breath of what may have been a laugh, but remained silent. He rubbed his hand on his knee, fingers itching for the familiar feel of a glass of booze. The anxiety was killing him; if he could just drown the part of him waiting for the near inevitable betrayal. But would it really be a betrayal if Charles expected it? If he was waiting for it? Or would it be all the worse for seeing it coming? For it being proved, once again, that Erik was incapable of being the better man?

God, he needed a drink.

"He and I do not sound to be as amicable. Quite the shock, isn't it?"

“Yes,” Charles agreed, almost too quickly with an old flippant, teasing tone of which he’d forgotten he was capable. “From the sound of it, Erik, you just have a habit of making friends wherever you go.”

For a moment, he could scarcely breathe. A part of him felt like laughing until he was curled up in hysterics; eleven years apart, so much loss and pain, and yet, here they were: playing chess and picking up a rhythm Charles hadn’t focused on how much he’d missed until he was confronted with it again. It was beginning to feel as though nothing had really changed, and that was dangerous. If Charles wasn’t careful, he’d end up destroyed once again, and who knew what would be left of him if he let his guard down?

[Erik Lehnsherr]

Erik could see and hear that. A familiarity of light heartedness that they had often conversed in. One that it seemed they were still capable of conversing in. Even if it was just a glimpse, an every so slight change in tone, Erik would take it. Though he knew he had to choose his words carefully. For one wrong thing said, could reverse all the efforts of trying to engage in a civil, almost casual, conversation. Void of all the tension and disagreements that existed between them.

Charles' words had caused a smile to emerge on Erik's lips, one more easily made for he appreciated, hell even welcomed, the tease made by his friend. He took another sip, starting to grow more hopeful in their interactions. Charles had not yet rejected his company, and Erik rather hoped to keep it that way. "Every person often wonders at what moment in time and under what circumstances that are to meet their death," Magneto began to say. It was a change in topic, but still related to the all encompassing subject of what had brought them back together.

"Is it not an exhilarating feeling to know that we have lived such a full life? That we have survived through decades of this world, and have a chance to live longer still." Logan had described Erik as a survivor. It gave him great comfort to know that he continued to fight for mutants. That there was no point in his life where he stopped being Magneto. That decades would go by and he would still be fighting a war. Though, on the flip side of that, it was also frustrating to know that the war had not yet been won and that there was still reason to fight. It was a conflicting feeling, hence the reason Erik chose his words about how they had lived so long, rather than words of what they did during their lives.

[x]

Charles made the worst decisions in the history of poor-decision making, because he picked that particular moment to glance up at Erik. The bastard was smiling. He felt his stomach give an uncomfortable lurch at the sight, and he swallowed and bit his lip. This wasn’t fair, not by any stretch of the imagination.

"Every person often wonders at what moment in time and under what circumstances that are to meet their death," Erik began, and Charles kept his eyes locked on his face, trying to tell what was going through the metalokinetic’s head. "Is it not an exhilarating feeling to know that we have lived such a full life? That we have survived through decades of this world, and have a chance to live longer still."

Survived. Survival wasn’t the same as living, and it twisted something in Charles to think of his life in terms of merely surviving, of getting by just to live another day rather than actually live his life. That wasn’t what he wanted for his future. He didn’t want to merely survive. Charles wanted better than that for himself, for Hank, for Raven, for the children he’d taken in before the drafts become too much, hell, even for Erik. Life shouldn’t be whittled down to a choice between survival and death. Charles took a deep breath and tried to think of a way to convey that.

“I suppose it is exciting,” he began. “After all, from the sound of it, our mutual longevity was not easily had. But haven’t you ever thought of something beyond merely surviving?”

Part of him wanted to keep talking, to let the words tumbled from him like word vomit, but he was too sober for that. No, better to volley the ball back into Erik’s court before he said something that would incite the other’s rage.

[Erik Lehnsherr]

Erik's smile partially faded, though in its remain there was a slight one. He was right in what he said, which was wise Magneto had chosen the word survive. For there would undoubtedly be many obstacles the two men faced in the future. Whether Charles was actively fighting in this war or not, there would still be hardships and situations that would not be formidable. But there was no thrill in the prospect for Charles as there was for Magneto. Or so, that was how it appeared. "Isn't that what we are doing now, and will be doing in the future?" Erik questioned rhetorically. "Surviving every day. Enduring this society that would condemn us?" He paused, not going on for he had not meant for the conversation to revert back to the discussion of their contrasting political views. Erik leaned back in his chair, looking intently at Charles as he saw how far this man had fallen. He was once so full of life and zeal and now, he looked broken and defeated.

"Tell me, Charles. What will you do once we have completed this particular mission?" He asked. Magneto ensured to leave out any judgment in his tone, or throw out a snide remark such as 'return as a recluse in your home', for the words he spoke were that out of genuine curiosity. What did Charles intend to do once they stopped Raven. Would he reopen the school? Would he return to his previous state as a recluse? Would he do something to take a stand against humans -- not necessarily violent, but another way? Magneto sincerely wished to know, for it seemed that they had a strong future ahead of them and he was curious as to whether Charles' started after this mission, or if it would take him longer to come to the realization and snap out of the depression he had seemed to immerse himself in.

[x]

Erik’s smile faded a bit, which just about figured in Charles’s opinion. The past decade had only impressed upon him the fact that no matter what he did, he would only mess it all up and everyone would be better off if he simply didn’t try.

"Isn't that what we are doing now, and will be doing in the future? Surviving every day. Enduring this society that would condemn us?"

Charles wasn’t so gone that he couldn’t recognize a rhetorical question when presented with one. Anything he had to say to that would only erupt into another argument and Erik would probably take the plane down if he became angry enough. Erik had barely calmed down quick enough the last time to avoid a plane crash, and Charles wasn’t actively suicidal. Not at the moment, at least.

(Oh, but there had been moments. Moments when there hadn’t been a kind word to be had within his mind, when his resolve nearly crumbled entirely. Moments when he’d had a gun in hand or a knife, or had made his way to a window on the upper floors. He’d never been able to actually go through with it, too weak to actually give up permanently. Not that he’d ever reveal any of that to Erik. Hank had his suspicions, but he’d never had enough to fully go on.)

"Tell me, Charles. What will you do once we have completed this particular mission?"

He took a deep breath. What would he do? Honestly, he had no clue. He couldn’t go back to the serum and the alcohol, but he couldn’t bear to regain his telepathy. It was too painful; if losing Erik and Raven and his entire student body and faculty to war had broken him, returning to his telepathy and paralysis would likely shatter him. And yet...he thought of the children who had initially come to the school. He thought of other children, discovering their mutant powers and living in fear of harming those around them. Could he really just turn his back on them, any more than he already had?

What’s more, could he really lie to Erik?

“I’m honesty not sure,” Charles finally admitted. He was a fool, he was allowing himself to be weak in front of the man who had destroyed him far more thoroughly than he was probably aware, but he couldn’t bring himself to be anything less than honest. “Perhaps I’ll reopen the school. Or go into activism. I don’t know, Erik, and at the moment, I’d rather not think of it. My top priority is my sister. As soon as I know she’s safe, that Trask won’t be able to get his hands on her, then I will consider my next course of action.”

Raven had always been his priority. Even when she banished him from her mind and chafed at the fact that she couldn’t go around in natural form (which had always been beautiful, which he had always loved, but how could he have expected Raven to know that, really? Which of them was the telepath?), Charles had never stopped wanting her to be safe. He’d wanted a world in which Raven could walk down the street with her beautiful blue skin and shocking red hair and neither of them would have to worry about someone causing her harm out of fear. Once he could be sure that Raven wouldn’t be captured, wouldn’t be experimented on and tortured, then he could allow himself to think about his own future.

[Erik Lehnsherr]

Much to Erik's relief, Charles did not remark on his statement about survival. It was for the best since Erik's attempt was to diminish the intensity between them, not perpetuate it. He listened to Charles' answer to his question, suggesting the reopening of the school or engage in activism. He noticed that Charles made no mention of his power. Not that he expected the man to openly and blatantly state that he was going to reclaim his powers and stop drinking. But the fact that he was at least posing alternatives to the lifestyle he had been living the past however long, gave Erik hope that perhaps his friend would be able to regain his senses and become the Charles Xavier that he had initially met. So with that in mind, Erik spoke true words. Not that he ever offered lies. If there was one thing that he saw as utterly pointless, it was lying.

He had not only felt that way because he knew Charles could get inside his head, but it had been a philosophy that he had lived his life by. Lying was futile. And in times where it counted, it allowed Erik to speak of seemingly improbable things, but they were believed because of his reputation for offering the truth. One prime and recent example being his admittance to Charles that he did not shoot the President. "You were doing incredible work with the school." Well deserved praise. Charles had been the one to train Erik and the others. He had a natural ability to teach and impart wisdom and strength onto others. While Erik's approach to this war was more direct, he commended Charles for doing something that helped mutants understand and control their powers. "You have the ability to change so many lives, Charles." An ability he was currently wasting by hiding in his large estate. "As a teacher. As a mutant." Because how could he deny his own gifts and then encourage others to learn theirs? There was a certain hypocrisy to that. Besides, Erik could not understand how anyone could deny their gifts.

He had not understood it when Mystique was hiding behind her true form. And he did not understand it with Charles, though he had tried to explain that his telepathy came with difficulties. Didn't all powers? Wasn't that why they learned control and how to hone their abilities? Erik did not say anything regarding ensuring that Trask would not be able to get his hands on Raven. For the plan in his mind created a sure way of preventing that. But it was not a plan he could share with Charles. It was one that he would merely have to execute in the moment. And at the same time, one that he was dreading carrying out. "I truly hope you choose something that is well suited to your capabilities." Another encouragement to no longer be the recluse he had been. "Not something that shelters you from the rest of the world." Like the man he was in this recent time. He could not fully express just how much he wished Charles would be the mutant he first met, and not the man he was acting to be now.

[x]

"You were doing incredible work with the school."

Charles let out a humorless snort but bit his tongue regardless. He was far too tired of everything to start a fight anymore. Downing the rest of his alcohol earlier had been a mistake.

"You have the ability to change so many lives, Charles. As a teacher. As a mutant."

Ah, yes, because his mutation was so welcomed among their kind. How ironic was it that, when he was in full command of his powers, he was all but shunned for them. And now, now that he had finally cast such a distasteful mutation aside, now his mutation was a ‘gift’? Something to be desired, wanted, perhaps even cherished?

(The Charles of eleven years ago would’ve ignored the hypocrisy, would have even internalized it. After all, what pride could be had for a mutant who could expect little else but distrust and locked doors from both humans and from his own kind?)

The worst of it all was that Erik apparently couldn’t even recognize his own hypocrisy. ‘Mutant and Proud,’ but not if your mutation is telepathy. Then you are a thing to be feared, guarded against, kept on a short leash and used like a weapon.

It all made Charles want to break something.

"I truly hope you choose something that is well suited to your capabilities,” Erik continued, and Charles tightened his grip on the arm of his seat. "Not something that shelters you from the rest of the world."

In the end, it was bound that something was going to have to give at some point. When a thing is broken, it does not passively sit back. Instead, it lashes out, it seeks to cut anyone who draws near as deeply as possible. And so, Charles gave.

“Last I knew, Erik, you considered my mutation to be undesirable,” he said. “Something that had to be guarded against and kept on a short leash. Tell me, when did my mutation suddenly become something worth having? Was it when I decided to get rid of it? Was it when I decided I was better off powerless than hated by my own kind?”

He stood up and grabbed his glass.

“You twist metal and move it to your will, and it’s incredible. I can read minds and sense emotions, and I’m greeted with suspicion and mistrust. Forgive me, Erik, for not seeing the beauty of my mutation. I find it hard to see beauty in something I need to ask permission to use.”

Charles left the game and Erik behind, make his way over to where the liquor was kept. He wasn’t quitting the game, not by a longshot, but it was getting far too difficult to continue sober.

And God, if he didn’t hate that.

[Erik Lehnsherr]

Despite his efforts, it seemed that the conversation was leading to its inevitable shift and thus, a shift in emotions. For he could now tell his friend was angry, as Charles went on to explain why. Erik certainly would describe Charles powers as undesirable. It was not why he wore the helmet. He was willing to give justification for that, but he was forced to raise his head a little when Charles stood up and went to get another drink. Could he truly not see how remarkable his gift was? How powerful he was with his telepathy? Had Erik's wearing of the helmet truly caused such a strong distrust between them? He had his reasons for wearing it, ones that he was intending on telling Charles, should he return to the seat across from him. Erik remained calm, composed, understanding of Charles' agitation and short fuse. No matter how much they pretended there was far too much unresolved between them.

"Have you forfeited the game then? Or shall I leave your king standing?" He asked. Two options. Erik was well aware that it had nothing to do with the game, and everything to do with the company and conversation. Yes. He would tell Charles why he wore the helmet. And it wasn't out of disrespect for his gifts. It was due to their different goals and priorities. For he was rather certain that if Charles had joined him, then he would have no need for the helmet. Erik looked at the game, taking another small sip of his drink as his mind mulled over all that Charles had said, all that had happened, and all that would happen. It was odd really, to think that Erik was trying to mend their broken relationship only to be planning to do something else when it came to Raven that he was rather certain would fully destroy any semblance of their relationship.

[x]

“Have you forfeited the game then,” Erik called after him as Charles made his way over to the liquor cabinet. “Or should I leave your king standing?”

“You so much as touch my king, Erik, and I will make you regret it,” Charles responded, filling his glass almost too full of whiskey and taking a deep swig.

Rather than returning the bottle to its original location, Charles decided to bring it with him. He couldn’t just abandon the game every time he drained his glass; it would become far too repetitive and Charles would be rushing to the liquor cabinet every five minutes.

God, he hated this. He hated what he’d become, what they’d become. Not just himself and Erik, either, but Raven, Alex, Sean—all of them. There was a small cemetery in the far corner of the estate, one that once served as a family cemetery. It still did, as far as Charles was concerned, even if he was likely to be the last Xavier ever interred there, because everyone else who would be either laid to rest there or given a memorial would be his students, his teachers, mutants and humans alike who had come to his school in hopes of a better life for themselves and had found themselves let down.

Because, no matter what happened in the next few days, Erik was never going to back down from his genocide and, now that he was free, Charles couldn’t afford to sit back in a drugged, drunken stupor while his one-time friend ran roughshod all over the planet. And that meant more were going to suffer, were going to die, and it would be at least another fifty years before Erik finally came to his senses. If Logan was to be believed.

Charles returned to his seat across from Erik, and set the bottle down none too gently. He took another drink from his glass and set that down as well. If he wasn’t careful, he was going to become his mother. (Oh, but wasn’t he already?)

Erik wasn’t going to let Charles’s outburst go un-countered, he was sure. Charles grit his teeth and braced himself for a prettied up version of Sorry, Charles, but I don’t trust you.

[Erik Lehnsherr]

Charles' response caused Erik to smile with amusement, even come close to letting out a small chuckle and his threatening words. It also provided that reassurance that Charles was not abandoning his company. But rather, merely refilling his glass which was something Erik could understand. Though he wondered if his friend would be mindful of how much he consumed, for they needed him sober and alert come tomorrow. Erik knew it was not his duty to monitor the alcoholic intake of Charles Xavier, but he also knew that his friend did not hold that same responsibility that he had before. He could only hope that the thought of his sister, Raven, was what kept him very aware of his actions. His eyes locked on Charles as he rejoined him, reclaiming his initial position in his seat across from him. "Your move," Erik offered. His mind was more preoccupied with their previous conversation before Charles departed from it. And as he planned, Erik was preparing to vocalize his mentally formulated response. "Your gift is not undesirable nor anything less than incredible." Erik spoke with nothing but the utmost truth, revealing a strong sincerity in his voice.

Quite honestly, he thought that Charles abilities were amazing and didn't want his own shielding of them to be taken as his rejection of their marvel. "I am well aware of your disapproval of my actions." His killing of Shaw, his targeting of the missiles toward the humans, etc. "It is not that I do not trust you Charles when you say you will not go inside my head." It was not distrust. "It is that I know you share a vastly different perspective than I do. And you would do whatever necessary to protect others, even humans. Who are the very beings that I target when needed." When he had to defend his kind against them. He was not doing this to attempt to change Charles' mind on how he viewed humans. He was merely stating known facts: that what broke them apart, was their opposing goals, priorities, and willingness to do what they believed was necessary. "When I wear the helmet, it is a shield. Just as I would create one with metal to block any other physical attempt to stop me. I know you would not go inside my mind unless you felt it was imperative. But it is during those moments, that reveal our strong disagreements in how matters should be handled." Charles did not believe in killing humans. Erik did. And it was instances such as that where Magneto could not let Charles stop him.

[x]

“Your move,” Erik said as Charles resumed his seat.

Charles took a glance at the board and then shoved another pawn ahead. Fuck strategy at this point; strategy could come later, when speaking with Erik didn’t feel akin to picking at and ripping off a scab on an old wound.

“Your gift is not undesirable, nor anything less than incredible,” Erik began, and Charles sighed and took another drink.

“I am well aware of your disapproval of my actions. It is not that I do not trust you, Charles, when you say you will not go inside my head. It is that I know you share a vastly different perspective than I do. And you would do whatever necessary to protect others, even humans, who are the very beings that I target when needed.”

There it was. The pretty version of what Erik had said so long ago. Erik could insist until he was blue in the face that the use of his damned helmet had nothing to do with not trusting Charles, but that was never the message in his actions.

“When I wear the helmet,” Erik continued, “it is a shield. Just as I would create one with metal to block any other physical attempt to stop me. I know you would not go inside my mind unless you felt it was imperative. But it is during those moments that reveal our strong disagreements in how matters should be handled.”

Charles couldn’t help himself: he laughed, bitter disbelief and disappointment coloring the sound, bracing his forehead in his hand. They were going to get nowhere, as always, and Erik simply would not understand.

“Oh, Erik, if I truly wanted to do you harm, your helmet would afford you little protection. There are other ways to kill you, my friend, that would be no less affective for the helmet on your head,” Charles answered, leaning forward, his elbows resting on his knees.

“You can justify it all you wish, you can deny it until you haven’t any breathe left in your lungs, but so long as that helmet is in your possession, you show the world that I am not to be trusted. That every telepath who lives, or ever will live, is not to be trusted. Your followers will see a little asterisk attached to your ‘Mutant and Proud’ slogan and once the humans are gone, mutants will turn on telepaths and empaths and any other mutant unfortunate enough to be born with a view into the minds of others, and you’ll wonder how that happened.”

He leaned back and took another drink.

“All I can do is hope that I’ll be long dead before that day comes.”

[Erik Lehnsherr]

Erik did not believe that Charles would try to kill him. He believed that he would try to stop him. There was a difference. For the mutant was not a killer. If he could not even allow another to kill humans, then he highly doubted he would be able to kill a fellow mutant. But Erik did not argue this point. He simply remained silent, allowing Charles to finish his response to what Erik had told him in regards to the helmet. He did not believe that putting it on wasn't a sign of distrust. "Once again Charles, it is not about trust," he stated. He doubted he would believe him, and that this would prove to be a pointless argument. But Erik said it none the less. "It has to do with the fact that you would stop me if given the chance." The only reason he would not need his helmet when planning to do what needed to be done with Raven, was because Charles currently did not have his powers. "And I can not let that happen," he added.

"What does it matter to you anyway. You gave up your abilities as a telepath." So much for not taking a jibe at him ridding himself of his powers. Erik had not planned to bring that up again, but he had. And he did not regret letting the words fall from his tongue. "Seems I no longer even need the use of my helmet." A tease, a somewhat joke, but not without truth. Made in the height of their argument. Because Charles did not have his powers. And with the way he was talking, it didn't sound like he had any intention of regaining them. Erik leaned back in his seat, taking another and the last sip of his drink. "Mutant and proud is correct, Charles." A slogan that Mystique had come up with. "And itt is disappointing to see that you have no pride in who you are." He was no longer going to hide his judgment in him willingly giving up his powers. He assumed that his disappointment meant very little to Charles, but he said the words regardless.

[x]

“Once again, Charles, it is not about trust. It has to do with the fact that you would stop me if given a chance.”

Charles raised an eyebrow at that. Oh, how Erik had missed the point entirely.

“What does it matter to you, anyway,” Erik continued. “You gave up your abilities as a telepath. Seems I no longer have use of my helmet.”

It was a jibe, Charles knew it, but that didn’t change the growing urge to punch Erik once again. He wouldn’t get away with it a second time, but Charles couldn’t quite find it in him to care anymore.

“Mutant and proud is correct, Charles. And it is disappointing to see that you have no pride in who you are.”

“You asked me to stay out of your head, Erik,” Charles responded, “and I made a vow to stay out. I’ve been in minds like yours before; men with minds like yours can’t be changed. I’d been so foolishly naïve to think you could have been any different, that you could have chosen to utilize the good in you rather than cleave to the pain.”

He polished off his second glass. “And as for pride, you’re correct, Erik. I have no pride in my mutation. I have no pride for something that alienates me from the entirety of the world, human and mutant, when it should bring me closer to them. I have no pride in a mutation that cripples me because the world did not mutate as I did.”

Why was he still sitting there, talking to Erik, when all the conversation made him want was a bottle of vodka and perhaps a pistol.

“I’m wasting my breath, aren’t I? You’re incapable of understanding, and I’m incapable of finding the words necessary to change that.”

He sighed and laced his fingers together, looking up at Erik.

“It was a choice between staying alive and remaining a telepath. Would you prefer I’d taken the alternative?”

[Erik Lehnsherr]

That much was true. He had asked Charles to stay out of his head. But that didn't mean he believed Charles would keep to his word if Magneto was in the midst of threatening, or planning to kill, another. Charles did not see violence as a means to resolve anything. Which was where their points of view greatly differed. He went on to speak of having no pride. And the words were rather discouraging. Charles had not been like this before. Had the loss of Mystique, his legs, and the school really caused him to reach this level? He supposed the combination of it all had the ability to discourage a man beyond belief . . . but still. There were alternatives. It was when Charles said that he could have used the good in him. He was. But it was not a goodness by Charles' standard, or by humans' standard. It was a kind of goodness that made him fight for other mutant's rights. And only they could understand.

Though, he had expected Charles to as well. Yet that would never happen, despite how close he considered him to be. "You alienated yourself," Magneto countered. "Do you really believe that you are the only one who struggles with your mutation?" He questioned rhetorically. Hell, Erik himself had been one of them. "Do not victimize yourself, Charles." Words that sounded like more of a demand. For mutants had the potential to be strong, if they embraced their powers rather than try to deny them. For that, was when they would become isolated and self loathing. Depressed and defeated. It would be what Charles had become. All because he believed his gift was a curse. As if he was the only mutant on this earth to struggle and feel uncontrolled. His last words, the ultimatum, the question of the preference, had an immediate reaction from Magneto. "You should have come with us," he stated, only second after Charles had finished speaking the question. That day on the beach, he should have come with them.

"You should have come with me, Raven, and the others. If you truly feared isolation, then you should have joined us. And was now lamenting in the loss of his sister and all else.  He then would not have been alienated from other mutants as he now said he was. Magneto would not have had to worry as much about Charles stopping his plans. Together, they could have been unstoppable. It was what Magneto had wanted. It was what he had always wanted. Yet Charles had not even seemed to consider it. He had known his answer all along, and it was not the one Magneto had desired to hear. Yet, this was what had become of him.