Erik Lensherr (
diecastking) wrote2013-11-25 10:40 pm
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Entry tags:
XMFC/Down and Out
Erik remembers New York vividly. He has been to the city many times, as man and boy, hunter and prey.
He has stayed in the best hotels Manhattan has to offer, but he is most at home on the streets. Among the homeless and destitute, he feels more at ease than he ever has in university libraries or officious banks. These are his people: the disenfranchised and dispossessed.
Erik knows, at heart, he is a soldier, a killer. He has been deluding himself that he was tamed, a housecat, a man fit to be a companion - a father.
No more.
The illusion has shattered and he knows now he is a man who would rather see the love of his life murdered than survive in captivity. He could not suffer to see Charles suffer, so he preferred to snuff out his life.
Even days later the thought makes him sick. Erik pulls his old greasy coat closer around him, the disguise for which he traded his leather jacket. He has some money in his pocket for food, but his bike is stashed where no one can find it and he doesn't know if he can bear to look at it again.
He can't bear to be reminded of what he's thrown away by reverting to nature.
He has stayed in the best hotels Manhattan has to offer, but he is most at home on the streets. Among the homeless and destitute, he feels more at ease than he ever has in university libraries or officious banks. These are his people: the disenfranchised and dispossessed.
Erik knows, at heart, he is a soldier, a killer. He has been deluding himself that he was tamed, a housecat, a man fit to be a companion - a father.
No more.
The illusion has shattered and he knows now he is a man who would rather see the love of his life murdered than survive in captivity. He could not suffer to see Charles suffer, so he preferred to snuff out his life.
Even days later the thought makes him sick. Erik pulls his old greasy coat closer around him, the disguise for which he traded his leather jacket. He has some money in his pocket for food, but his bike is stashed where no one can find it and he doesn't know if he can bear to look at it again.
He can't bear to be reminded of what he's thrown away by reverting to nature.
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Erik's been gone three days before Charles becomes aware that his lover is not the one keeping vigil over him. Hank has never been a good liar, and with his telepathy to aid him it takes Charles no time at all to learn the truth, that Erik is missing.
Charles wants to set out and find him at once, but hasn't the strength to fight Hank when he's told he needs further bedrest. As such, it's another few days before he's heading for New York City with Alex at his side.
They will find Erik. Charles has every faith. He has no other option.
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Immediately, he throws up his walls and presses himself into an alleyway, heart beating double-time in his chest.
Was it proximity or Cerebro? Was Charles looking for him? Was his lover really so blind?
Erik hides in the darkness.
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He's ready to start giving Alex more detailed directions when, suddenly, that connection disappears. It feels like being submerged in icy water, leaving Charles gasping at the shock of the separation. Only when Alex starts to ask him if he needs to pull over, if he's about to have a seizure, that he regains control of himself.
Erik has his walls, but Charles has been training against them. The helmet is too strong for him, but not Erik's mental walls. Not if he tries hard enough. And, somehow, he can tell that those are the walls he is fighting right now.
Eyes screwed shut, fingers to temples, he tries with all his mental strength to push past Erik's barriers.
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Charles is close and part of him wants to give in, to be discovered, to be comforted. But the best part of him knows that's wrong, that he has to protect Charles from the monster he is.
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Charles is right at the limit of his powers, sweat beading across his forehead.
//Let me in. Please...//
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He cannot hurt Charles again.
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From his pocket he pulls his prized possession, the compass that points straight to Erik. Not as precise as his telepathy would have been, but it would still see Erik found. Even if he put on that infernal helmet.
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Charles is close. Erik needs to move, get out.
But he is paralysed, caught between needing to keep his fiancé safe and wanting to hold him again.
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With the compass in Charles' hand as Alex pushes him, it doesn't take too long for them to discover the alleyway Erik is hiding in.
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He cannot move, taking in the sight of Charles's longed-for figure.
And wanting to push past him and run far away.
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"We're here to help you. Don't push us away, Erik."
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"Help me?" he rasps, voice rough from disuse. "Charles, I have to protect you."
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"How do you intend to do that sat in an alleyway in New York City?"
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"From me."
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"I do not need protecting from you. I love you."
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"I would've watched you die."
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"It was for the best," he tells Erik, tells himself too. "The merciful option."
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Charles' innocence has gone. He has driven it from him.
"You don't understand." His voice shakes. "I wanted them to kill you."
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He does not blame Erik for his choices. They were the right ones to have made, he knows that now.
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"Look what I have made you," he says dully. "You were an idealist, Charles. A dreamer."
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"I'm who I've always been, Erik."
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"Not unless the alternative was worse."
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"I would let them all die if it meant preventing them from living as I did."
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"Most likely that decision will never be yours to make again. And if there is another attack, and you're not there, then what? We all die, or we all get carted off to life as lab rats. The possibilities are there, with or without you."
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