Chapter Text
"Erik."
The man stopped at her voice. Charlotte, he thought in greeting, and her chest tightened at the sound, the feel of it.
"What are you doing here?" she asked.
He didn't turn. "Why do you ask questions to which you already know the answer?" he asked.
Exhaustion filled his voice, and she felt it in her bones.
It had been so long. So many years of the same damn fight. One step forward, two steps back. Two steps forward, one step back.
But some things could not change. "Don't give up on them, Erik," she said, quietly pleading.
"What would you have me do, Charlotte?" he asked bitterly. "I've heard these arguments before."
She frowned. "That was a long time ago. Mankind has evolved since then."
It had been years since they had last communicated; they had kept up their letters for many years until the ‘war,’ as he called it, truly began. Four years ago, Azazel had been killed, and neither had the time nor resources to continue a clandestine, confidential correspondence.
And Charlotte had not seen him in person in so long…
"Yes," Erik agreed, still not daring to look at her. "Into us."
She sighed, watching him carefully—and even if she had a professional reason to seek him out today, she couldn’t help but say, “Wanda and Pietro are doing well.”
She couldn’t tell him that they said hello or they missed him—both she and Erik knew that was a complicated issue, and she would never lie about that. Not about them.
Glancing down, he said, “I’m glad to hear that, at least.”
Despite herself, Charlotte smiled and gently brushed against his mind, just enough to share a memory of their last birthday. Laughing together as they all ate, the twins bickering about their students and giving each other hell as they often did even as adults. The quiet, bittersweet moment when Charlotte had told them that their father would be proud, and they’d all felt his absence…
Her own strange astonishment at the years that had passed and how old they were now, nearly thirty. The love she felt for them, the longing she felt for a fourth chair to be filled at their little family dinners…
“The years have not been as kind as we hoped,” Erik mused.
“No,” she agreed softly. “But they have not been as cruel as you feared, either.”
He let out a brief, faint chuckle. “Always looking for that silver lining, aren’t you? That point when rage meets serenity, yes?”
“Always,” she agreed.
She wanted so badly to go to him, but she knew that it would only make parting harder, especially when they both had work to do.
Then, his hand went to his temple. Charlotte, he thought warningly.
"Are you sneaking around in here? What ever are you looking for, Charlotte?"
Finally, Erik turned to face her. His face, so weathered and weary, so many years later, was a hard mask. His hair was a shock of white and grey now, which was almost a surprise—she so rarely saw him face to face, even more rarely without his helmet.
Oh, my love…
"I'm looking for hope," she replied calmly, sincerely.
He nodded. "I will bring you hope, Liebling, and I will ask only one thing in return: don't get in my way."
After a long moment, he touched his hat in goodbye and walked away. "We are the future, Charlotte. Not them," he called over his shoulder. "They no longer matter."
She watched him go with equal parts longing and worry, but she had a duty to fulfill.
Once he was gone, Charlotte Xavier pulled out her phone and dialed quickly.
"Storm," she said lowly but urgently. "We have a problem."
Later that evening, Sabretooth stormed into Magneto's office. Alone.
So he had failed. Interesting.
"What happened?" Erik asked sharply.
"They knew."
Ah. He moved his chair out from the desk and sat down. "Charlotte," he muttered with a self-berating edge to his words. Of course she had discovered it from his head. He should have assumed as much when they first spoke.
But…Sabretooth did not come completely empty handed. He carried with him a souvenir. Erik pulled the dog tags to him, inspecting them curiously. Wolverine. "Where is the mutant now?" he asked idly.
The shaggy mutant snarled. "With them."
Well. That was a problem. "I have made the first move, that is all they know," he said mostly to himself. Tossing the dog tags onto his desk, he said to Sabretooth, "Come. The UN Summit is approaching. Time for our little test."