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It had been a misfire.
In the twilight of what should have been an ancient battlefield but remained an all too familiar home, where the sun bled crimson into the sky high above the peaks of what had once been a sanctuary, Charles and Erik stood like opposing storm fronts. Their winds blew with equal fervour but Charles’ whistled and Erik’s howled. They were always destined to collide. Theirs was a rivalry etched in the bones of the earth, whispered time and time again. Charles chased and Erik fled, only to find one another again in the same spots stood against one another. For years, they had danced a deadly waltz, each movement a symphony of hate, every strike a note of unyielding defiance.
But that day, that damned day played a different melody.
Erik was the fire, fierce and unrelenting, his presence a searing heat that scorched the ground beneath his feet. Old empires would crumble at his word if he had been given the chance to look upon them. But no. His adult years were instead spent looking back at Charles when they parted.
And Charles, the ice, was cold and unyielding, his breath the winter's chill that froze even the most complex of minds. They were opposites in every way, yet bound together by the threads of fate that neither could sever no matter how hard they tried. In every timeline, they always came back to one another, for better or for worse.
Shadows lengthened and the night crept in on familiar stretches of halls in the underbelly of Charles’ own home. Mutant hunters, or so they thought. The school had long since been evacuated but Charles returned to find himself too frail to check its state alone. He hadn’t long since been bound to his chair and he was still more reliant on the dead weight in his legs than he was the white-knuckled grip of his fist. He called out to someone, anyone, mind weak and quiet, and Erik came. How it reached him Charles decided not to question. He was there. He was real.
And he was willing to protect Charles.
So, with a reluctance born of necessity, fire met ice, not in the gnashing of teeth but in a tenuous truce forged in the heat of desperation.
The path before them was deceptively innocent. Their movements fell in sync, each mirroring the other in a dance of survival that slowly eased. Hatred cooled to a simmer in the wake of neither trust nor friendship, but something altogether different. A fragile thread of understanding, tightly strung, yet strong enough to bind them together in the face of an unforgiving fate.
The school’s underbelly was a relic of memories long soured, its walls sterile and lifeless. Flickering lights broken by stray gunshots cast long, wavering shadows as Charles and Erik moved cautiously through the eerie silence. The hum of machines caught in the crossfire buzzed faintly in the air, a low vibration that seemed to echo the tension between them. It was monotonous and sickly.
Erik led the way, his tall frame a silhouette against the dim light. His helmet caught the occasional ray and beamed it back at Charles who could only shield his eyes. Erik’s movements were precise and methodical as if he could sense danger lurking behind every corner. Charles followed, sensing nothing but empty halls but allowing Erik to continue forward anyway. His mind wasn’t what it used to be, not after the accident. His wheelchair glided soundlessly across the cold tile floor. His eyes were sharp, scanning the surroundings with a quiet intensity that belied the storm brewing within him. He bit his tongue every time that sharp venom threatened to spill. Thank God Erik couldn’t read minds.
They hadn’t spoken much since they set out on this mission. Words seemed pointless in the face of what lay between them. But as they moved deeper into the heart of the lab, the silence became unbearable, a weight pressing down on both of them.
Charles finally broke it, his voice calm, almost cold.
“This place reeks of nostalgia.” He hummed. He glanced up at Erik and then back at the stretching corridors. “Fitting, isn’t it?”
Erik didn’t look back.
“What are you getting at, Charles?”
Charles hesitated, his gaze fixed on Erik’s broad back. He didn’t want to fight with Erik but his mind was constantly filled with unspoken anger and regret from that fated day.
“You know what I’m getting at.” He muttered under his breath. Erik faltered but kept on. “This is a reflection of us. The remnants of something that used to be powerful.”
Erik’s jaw tightened, and he slowed his pace.
"Always so profound." Erik grumbled. “Is that what you think? That we’re just ‘remnants’?”
“Isn’t that what we are?” Charles’ tone sharpened, a blade hidden beneath velvet. “We believed we could change the world, and now we’re reduced to this.”
Erik finally turned, his eyes meeting Charles’. There was fire there, a restrained fury that had been smouldering for years.
"You never speak like a normal person."
"I'm just making an observation."
“You say that as if it was all my doing.”
Charles’ hands tightened on the arms of his wheelchair.
"Are you saying it wasn't?"
Erik huffed. He laughed, the sound bitter and dry.
"When have I ever done wrong?" He challenged. "Have I not fought for us my whole life?"
“You crippled me, Erik. You took away my legs. You left me on that beach to die.”
Erik’s eyes darkened, a storm gathering in their depths. He blinked it back and looked away. “And you think I haven’t paid the price? Do you think I don’t regret what happened? But you—”
He stopped, clenching his fists, his voice trembling with barely contained emotion. Charles swallowed thickly.
“—you always wanted to change me, to make me something I’m not.”
"That's not true and you know it."
"Don't lie." Erik hissed. The metal surrounding them creaked inwards slightly.
"I wanted what was best for you, Erik."
"You don't know what I want."
They fell back into silence for a moment. The only sound was Erik's laboured breathing as he fought to control his temper.
"If I did try to change you-"
"So you admit it." Erik interrupted with venom on his tongue. Charles didn't take kindly to being spoken over.
“Because I saw what you could be, Erik! What we could be together!” Charles hissed as his voice rose, his frustration spilling over. “But you chose a path of destruction. You made your choice.”
“And you made yours,” Erik shot back, his voice like ice. Charles froze at the genuine hatred Erik was carrying. “To stand against me, to oppose everything I fought for. We’re here now because of both our choices. Not just mine.”
A tense silence fell between them, broken only by the lingering hum of machines. They stood like that for a moment, on the brink of collision, their pasts and their anger swirling around them like a maelstrom. Charles faltered first, his expression cracking. Erik’s whole body begged him to take it back but he didn’t budge. He spoke, his voice quieter, but no less intense.
“Unless you called me here for nothing, we have a job to do, Charles.” Erik muttered through gritted teeth. His eyes fell shut as he brushed off his bitter anger and he sighed. “This stays behind us for now or you can do this alone.”
Charles studied him for a long moment, his face a mask of controlled emotion. But Erik knew the pain that lingered beneath. He’d seen it a million times, coerced it out with gentle words of affection and lingering touches. He wished he could reach out once more and take it all away but those memories had long since been left to rot.
“For now,” Charles agreed as he shied away from Erik’s lingering gaze, though his tone made it clear that nothing was forgiven.
They turned away from each other and the moment passed as Erik’s footsteps started to ring out once again, but the tension remained, thick and heavy in the air. They moved forward, deeper into the unknown, held together by a fragile truce and the weight of a history that threatened to break them at every step.
The deeper they ventured into the underside of the school, the more oppressive the silence became. The walls seemed to close in, their sterile white surfaces marred by the occasional splatter of blood or scorch mark, evidence of the violence that had erupted here before their arrival. The air was thick with the scent of antiseptic and decay, a nauseating blend that turned every breath into a struggle. The other mutants had fought hard. Erik was proud. Charles was hurt.
They rounded a corner and came to a familiar door. Charles pushed himself towards where the door immediately started emitting light and allowed it to read his facial features. It clicked to life and the low hum of shifting metal, all too familiar to Erik, rang out. Both men stood in silence for a moment as it clicked open.
Inside Cerebro was a bloodbath. How anyone got in, neither of them knew, but the bodies of the soldiers that had once posed such a visceral threat to the well-being of the school lay strewn across the floor, their lifeless forms twisted in unnatural angles, as if they had been caught in the throes of some unseen force. The sight was gruesome, even for men who had witnessed countless deaths in their time. Erik’s pride faltered for a moment and Charles felt sick.
“Well,” Erik said, his voice cutting through the silence, “it seems your mutants did a good job.”
Charles’ eyes flickered over the corpses, his expression unreadable. He chose not to speak.
“Or maybe this was a front,” Erik countered, his tone edged with suspicion. “These men were highly trained.”
“Alex has taught them all well, I’m sure. They wouldn’t have evacuated so smoothly if the threat was still present.” Charles sighed, rubbing his temples as he fought to suppress the growing headache that accompanied his telepathy when he was stressed. “You should be grateful.”
“Grateful?” Erik’s voice was sharp, a dangerous glint in his eyes as he turned to face Charles fully. “You really think this is over? That’s naive, even for you.”
Charles bristled at the venom in Erik’s tone, their old hostility flaring up again.
“Why do you always assume the worst? You of all people want mutants to fight back, but now that you’re seeing it you don’t believe it just because they’re my students.” Charles said wearily. “Not every situation ends in catastrophe, Erik. Maybe for once, things have fixed themselves without us having to spill more blood.”
Erik scoffed, his lip curling in disdain.
“You’re an idiot if you believe that. The world doesn’t work that way, Charles, and especially not when your mutants are the ones to blame. You’ve raised them to be weak.” Erik snarls. “There’s always another threat that they can’t see.”
“I’m not blind to the dangers,” Charles snapped, his patience wearing thin. “But we’ve seen enough violence, Erik. If there’s a chance—”
“There is no chance!” Erik cut him off, his voice rising with anger. “Not in a world like this. You’re so obsessed with peace that you ignore the reality around you. You think you can talk your way out of everything, but some enemies can’t be reasoned with. These mutants made the right choice, but God knows they’ll make the wrong one next time in the name of your misguided teachings.”
Charles opened his mouth to retort, but before he could, a movement caught his eye— a flicker of shadow behind Erik. His mind, clouded by the intensity of their argument, failed to sense the presence in time. A soldier, bloodied but alive, lunged from the darkness, his gun aimed squarely at Charles.
“Erik—!” Charles started, panic tightening in his chest. He raised his hand to stop the onslaught.
But Erik was faster, his instincts honed by years of combat. Before the soldier could pull the trigger, Erik’s hand shot out, and with a single, violent motion, he ripped the gun from the man’s grasp and dropped it. The soldier didn’t have time to react before Erik’s other hand lashed out, grasping the metal of his vest and sending him crashing into the nearest wall with a sickening thud. The soldier slumped to the ground, lifeless, his neck twisted at an unnatural angle.
The gun dropped to the floor, the sound not even registering in Erik’s mind as he gazed across at Charles. For a moment a blissful peace filled the room, washing both mutants in its ever present melancholy. Charles looked genuinely relieved to have had Erik with him. They watched one another in slow motion and basked in the sudden quiet, no longer a tense intrusion between them. It served as a brief reminder of their shortcomings, their weaknesses, and it felt like fleeting forgiveness when it lingered between them.
But the sound of gunfire, a single bullet, shattered the peace as soon as it came, and the hope was lost. Gunpowder burnt through the soft air, filling senses with hot, bitter twinges of smoke and a stark reminder of all the reasons they hated one another. Erik’s heart ached. He didn’t even see the bullet.
It shot through the air. Erik’s eyes widened, not because of the gun but because of Charles. Had it been anyone else, he would have let it fire. Dealt with the consequences after. But not Charles. Never Charles. A beat too late, Erik raised his hand, the very bones that held him down starting to tremble beneath his skin before he could even register the fear he was supposed to be feeling. Sheer panic chased down the bullet and stopped it, keeping it still in Erik’s distant grasp. He crushed it into an unnatural shape and he held it there, his chest rising and falling at a pace so rapid he wondered if his heart was going to give out.
But the metal drew blood, ever hungry for the iron that lay deep within Charles. A waterfall of crimson red started its bittersweet path down Charles’ face, pooling and lingering like tears in the lid of his eye before continuing down into his hands. They shook as he cupped the very core of his being. It looked like nothing between those hands that commanded the world and brought Erik to his knees every time.
It had been a misfire.
”Charles.”
Erik spoke first, his hand shaking in the air, both from his fear and the force it was taking to keep the bullet completely still. He shouldn’t have crushed it. He couldn’t pull it out without ripping Charles’ brain apart.
Charles’ eyes were wide and scared like he hadn’t even heard Erik speak.
”Where is it?” He whispered back. Erik shook his head.
”You’re going to be okay.”
”Where is it?” Charles repeated, hoarser this time. He turned slightly and Erik winced, shifting his fingers and contorting the bullet to perfectly match Charles’ movements.
”Deep.” Erik whispered. Charles chose not to nod, saving Erik the trouble of moving it again. Instead, he brought a trembling hand to his forehead, tracing his fingertips over the hole in his flesh. He sucked in a shaky breath.
There was a bullet in Charles’ brain.
Neither of them dared to speak. They were facing one another, both locked in place by a cruel fate that forced them to hold one another’s gaze through the whole ordeal. Erik was racking his brain in a desperate search for an answer. Charles was crying.
“I-I can’t feel you.” Charles rasped out in a broken whisper. His eyes were glassy and full of fear. Erik glanced up, torn from his thoughts, and winced. He knew what Charles meant; he was trying desperately to read Erik’s mind. He laughed bitterly, the smile not reaching his eyes as he took his helmet off with one weak hand.
”I’m here.”
Charles shook his head. He swallowed thickly.
”I can’t.”
Erik’s heart shattered, bitter dread laying thick in the back of his throat. He gasped out a tearful breath, trying to hold his nerve as much as he tried to hold the bullet still. The first thing to die was Charles’ telepathy.
First, his legs.
Now his mind.
Erik wanted to tear the bullet from Charles’ skull and drive it through his own.
The realisation hung in the air between them, a silent spectre that neither could ignore. Charles’ fingers trembled as they brushed the wound once more, the reality of the situation sinking in with every passing second. The bullet was there, lodged deep within his mind, a death sentence held at bay only by the sheer will of the man who had once been his greatest enemy. A mutant and a man.
“Erik,” Charles breathed once more, his voice fragile and almost childlike in its fear. He swallowed hard, his throat dry, as if the words he needed to say were too difficult to form. Erik’s eyes were brimming with tears he refused to let spill, knowing he didn’t have the ability to wipe them. “I don’t want to die.”
Erik’s face contorted with pain at the sound of Charles’ voice, at the vulnerability he had never seen in him before.
“Don’t.” Erik said, his voice a fierce whisper, his hand trembling in the air as he fought to keep the bullet perfectly still. His arm was growing tired and the shaking of his hands was starting to affect his hold on the bullet. “Don’t you dare talk like that. I won’t let that happen.”
Charles closed his eyes for a moment, trying to find some semblance of calm, but all he could feel was the pressure in his head, the cold metal that Erik was holding in place with a concentration so intense it made his entire body tremble. When he opened his eyes again, they were filled with tears he didn’t dare let fall. He’d never trusted Erik. This was no different.
“We’ve wasted so much time, haven’t we?” He whispered, his voice barely audible. He was just filling silence but it made Erik’s heart clench.
“Charles, don’t—”
“No, please,” Charles interrupted, his voice breaking, “I need to say this.”
Erik fell silent. He felt as though he were allowing a man on death row his final words.
”We’ve spent so long fighting each other, pushing each other away. And now... now we’re here, and I—”
Charles choked on the words. Erik would have torn the world in half to hold him.
“I’m scared.”
Erik’s eyes burned, a tear slipping down his cheek before he could stop it. Charles, his Charles, was never scared. Not for anything, not for anyone. But Erik, whether he would admit it to himself or not, had always been different.
“I’m so sorry,” Erik whispered, the words tumbling out before he could think them through. “I thought I was doing what was right, but-”
“But it wasn’t right,” Charles finished for him, his voice soft. “And neither was I. We were both so certain, weren’t we? So convinced that we knew what was best.”
Erik nodded, his throat tight, the weight of their shared history pressing down on him.
“I never wanted this, Charles. I never wanted to hurt you like this. I did it once and I swore I’d never do it again.”
Charles’ hand reached out, shakily grasping Erik’s wrist, the one holding the bullet in place. It stilled the tremble if only for a moment. Erik's other hand snaked up slowly so as to not jolt the other and took Charles' free hand.
“I know,” he whispered, his eyes locking onto Erik’s, blue meeting blue, past the years of hatred and conflict to the bond that had always been there, buried deep beneath the surface. “I know you didn’t. And I never wanted to be your enemy.”
Erik closed his eyes, the tears coming harder now as the reality of the situation crashed over him like a wave.
“I don’t know what to do, Charles,” he admitted, his voice thick with emotion. “I can’t remove it. I can’t...”
“Then stay with me,” Charles said, his voice steady despite the fear that gnawed at him. “Just stay with me, Erik. Please. I don’t want to be alone.”
Erik’s heart broke at the plea, at the raw fear and need in Charles’ voice. He tightened his grip on Charles’ hand, his other still holding the bullet in place, every fibre of his being focused on keeping it from moving even a fraction of an inch.
“I’m here,” Erik promised, his voice cracking. He never should have left Charles on that beach. He never should have run from the mistakes he made. It only led to more.
Charles managed a faint smile, though it was tinged with sorrow.
“We could have done so much good together,” he said, his voice filled with bitter regret for all that could have been.
Erik nodded, his own smile weak.
“We still can,” he said softly, more for Charles than for himself. He didn’t sound convinced. “We still can.”
Time seemed to stretch endlessly in the dim confines of Cerebro, each second marked by the laboured breaths and strained silence between them. Erik’s entire being was focused on the metal fragment buried in Charles’ brain, his hand trembling under the unbearable tension of keeping the bullet perfectly still. Every thought, every shred of power within him was directed towards holding that deadly piece of metal at bay, knowing that the smallest error, could mean the end. He wasn't willing to let Charles fall by his hand. Not again.
Charles remained quiet, his eyes shut tight, his breathing shallow and uneven. He could feel the bullet inside him, a foreign invader pressing against his mind, and with it, an insidious sense of helplessness he hadn’t felt since the day Erik had left him on that beach. The fear that coursed through him now was different, though—more profound, more visceral. This was not just the fear of pain, but the primal terror of impending death. The last shreds of his dying telepathy tinged and he could sense it coming for him. He winced.
“Erik,” Charles whispered after what felt like an eternity. Erik snapped back to reality and nearly jumped at the sound. His voice was barely more than a breath, a ghost of the confident man he had always been. It was coming for him. “I can feel it. My thoughts... my memories..."
"Don't."
"It’s like it’s trying to erase me.”
Erik’s heart twisted. He took in a breath to steel himself and stilled the tremble in his hand.
“Don’t think like that,” He urged, his voice thick with emotion. Charles faltered. He never liked it when Erik was vulnerable. It reminded him of all those memories he'd seen buried deep and locked away. “I’m not going to let that happen, Charles.”
Charles opened his eyes, fixing Erik with a gaze that was both piercing and heartbreakingly fragile.
“And what if you can’t stop it?” He asked nervously, his voice trembling with the weight of the question. “What if this is it? After everything we’ve been through- what if this is how it ends?”
Erik’s grip on Charles’ hand tightened, his knuckles white with the force of it.
“It’s not going to end like this,” He whispered, though there was a tremor in his voice. A flicker of doubt that he couldn’t quite suppress. “I promise you, Charles. You’ve always believed in me, even when I didn’t deserve it. Believe in me now. Please.”
Charles’ eyes softened, the tension in his body easing slightly as he took comfort in Erik’s words.
“I do believe in you.” Charles murmured, his voice steadying.
Erik’s breath hitched at that, guilt and sorrow flooding through him like a wave.
“I didn't deserve it before.” He whispered, his voice breaking. “I don’t deserve your forgiveness.”
“Maybe not.” Charles agreed, a ghost of a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “But that’s never stopped me before.”
The weight of those words hung between them, heavy and bittersweet. It was a testament to the complicated, tangled bond they shared. Every time Erik would destroy Charles and every time Charles would forgive him even when he couldn't trust him. Not trust, no, but sweet, undeserved forgiveness. Erik’s eyes stung with unshed tears and he swallowed hard, trying to force them down. A tide of emotions surged within him- regret, fear, and something raw he refused to admit.
“Charles.” Erik choked out, the name torn from him like a confession. It was all too gentle for the war currently raging between them. “I’m sorry for everything. For what I did to you and for all the pain I caused. If I could take it all back—”
“Don’t,” Charles interrupted gently, his hand squeezing Erik’s. Erik bit back a pathetic sound. “Don’t say that. We can’t change the past. But we can change what happens next.”
Erik nodded. He turned his next words over in his mind as they fell back into silence. He let his eyes fall shut and sighed.
“Then let me save you.” He eventually said, his voice fierce and desperate. “Let me make this right.”
Charles’ breath hitched. His eyes widened as he realised what Erik meant. “You can’t. Erik, it’s too dangerous.”
“I don’t care,” Erik replied, his voice firm and unyielding. “I have to try. I have to do something.”
Charles wanted to protest and to tell him that it wasn’t worth the risk, that he couldn’t bear the thought of Erik hurting himself for his sake. But the words died on his lips, choked off by the crushing weight of the situation. Because deep down, he knew that Erik was right- they couldn’t stay like this forever. Sooner or later, Erik’s strength would falter, and when it did...
Charles shuddered at the thought.
Charles shook his head vehemently, his heart pounding in his chest, the fear clawing at him with a ferocity that made his voice tremble.
“No, Erik. You can’t do this. I won’t let you.”
“Charles, I don’t have a choice.” Erik shot back, his voice tight with desperation. “If I don’t get it out, it’s going to kill you.”
“And what if it kills me faster if you try?” Charles countered, his voice rising with each word. “You said it yourself- one wrong move, and it could tear through my brain. I can’t... I can’t trust you with this.”
Erik flinched as if he’d been slapped, his eyes narrowing with hurt and anger. All their apologies, all their soft words form moments ago died as the air around them turned thick. His fist clenched and Charles cried out in pain at the minute shift of the metal lodged in his skull. “You can’t trust me?” he repeated, his tone incredulous. “After everything we’ve been through, you still don’t trust me?”
"I don't want to fight." Charles whispered. He was fighting to catch his breath as the pain grew deeper in him, Erik's fist still clenched tight.
"Tell me you trust me to do this." Erik hissed. Charles didn't speak.
Erik's grip on Charles' hand faltered before he let go. Charles chased the contact but Erik had already retreated further than he could reach. His hand fell limp at his side.
"How could you not- trust me?" Erik continued. Charles was crying from the ache lingering in his skull.
"Erik-"
"I've made my mistakes, Charles. We can both admit that. But I apologised. I'm- I'm keeping you alive, aren't I?"
"Erik, please."
"What have I ever done that deserves that little trust? I have fought tooth and nail for the right to live, for the both of us. I have never been- selfish in my endeavours. I did everything I did for us, Charles, and every mistake I made that left you hurt I couldn't live with." He continued. Charles was gasping for air through the tears. "I always came crawling back, and you always took me in."
"Erik." Charles whispered. Erik wasn't listening.
"But you- you think you're better than me because you keep your mutants caged. You always took me back in because you wanted me to be docile like the rest of them, didn't you? You can't- put an ounce of faith in me, and why? Because I wouldn't lay down and die at your feet like the rest of them?"
Charles was silent. He just let Erik vent, knowing these could be the last words he ever heard before he died.
"Charles Xavier." Erik growled. "The one man I'd tear the world apart for can't fucking trust me."
"Erik, you're hurting me." Charles whispered. Erik froze, glancing at his fist to find it unrelentingly tight. He opened his hand and the bullet stopped pressing into Charles' skull. He breathed a terrified sigh of relief. Charles looked up, his eyes burning through the tears.
“How could I trust you?” Charles snapped suddenly, his own anger flaring now, ignited by the fear that Erik was about to kill him. “You’re the reason I’m in this chair, Erik. You've made an irreparable rift between humans and mutants that I will never be able to patch. What’s to stop you from taking my life as well?”
The words cut deep, sharper than any blade, and Erik recoiled, his breath catching in his throat. For a moment, he couldn’t speak, the guilt overwhelming him.
“That was an accident,” he finally managed to say, his voice low and broken. “I never meant to hurt you, Charles. You know that.”
“Do I?” Charles shot back, his voice trembling with a mixture of anger and fear. “Because all I can think about is that day, Erik. Every time I look at you, I see the man who did this to me. And now you want me to trust you, after a single outburst nearly cost me my life again?”
Erik’s face twisted in anguish, his eyes glistening with unshed tears.
“I know I hurt you.” He admitted, his voice raw with emotion. “And I’ve regretted it every single day since. But this isn’t about the past, Charles. This is about saving your life now.”
“And what if you can’t?” Charles whispered, his voice cracking as the fear finally broke through his anger again. “What if you make it worse? What if this is how I die, Erik, because I was foolish enough to let you try?”
Erik’s heart shattered at the terror in Charles’ voice. Despite everything, Charles was still afraid of him.
“I can’t let that happen,” Erik whispered back, his voice trembling. “I won’t let that happen. You have to believe me, Charles.”
“But I don’t know if I can!” Charles cried, his voice rising in panic. He could feel the decay setting in. It was happening. “I don’t know if I can trust you to save me when all I can think about is the fact that you’re the one who put me in this position in the first place!”
The words hung in the air between them, heavy and bitter, a chasm opening up that neither of them knew how to bridge. Erik’s hands shook as he tried to hold the bullet steady, his entire being consumed by the crushing weight of Charles’ words. He wanted to scream, to beg Charles to trust him, but the fear in Charles’ eyes stole the words from his throat. He wanted to lash out and defend himself, but suddenly it all felt like the beach again and he wasn't willing to reopen those wounds while they were still fresh.
“I don’t want to die,” Charles whispered, his voice barely audible. The sound brought Erik back to reality. “I’m so scared, Erik. I don’t want this to be the end.”
Erik’s heart broke at the sound of Charles’ voice, the vulnerability that lay beneath the fear. He could see the way Charles' eyes darted around the room as if searching for an escape, for some way out of this nightmare. Erik’s own fear mirrored Charles’, but it was laced with something deeper- an overwhelming need to protect the man he had hurt so many times before.
“I’m scared too,” Erik confessed, his voice thick with emotion. “I’m terrified, Charles. But I can’t just sit here and do nothing while that bullet is killing you. I have to try, even if you don’t trust me. I can’t lose you. Not like this.”
Charles closed his eyes, tears slipping down his cheeks as the weight of Erik’s words sank in. He wanted to trust Erik and he wanted to believe that they could move past their pain, but the fear was too strong. The memories of what had happened between them was too raw.
“I've always forgiven you.” Charles whispered, his voice trembling. “But for everything that’s happened... I don’t know if I can ever let go of that.”
Erik’s breath hitched.
“I don’t expect you to forget.” Erik said. “I don’t deserve that. But please, Charles, let me save you. Let me do this, even if it’s the last thing I do.”
Charles’ eyes opened, locking onto Erik’s with a mixture of fear and something else- something softer, more vulnerable.
“And what if you fail?” He asked, his voice barely more than a whisper.
“I won’t.” Erik promised with a firm voice despite the tears that threatened to spill over. “I won’t fail you, Charles. Not this time. Not again.”
Charles stared at Erik, searching his eyes for any sign of doubt or any flicker of hesitation. But all he saw was the same fierce determination that had once driven them apart, now tempered by a deep, abiding need to make things right. And in that moment, despite the fear that still gripped him, Charles realised that he had to take a leap of faith. He had one last chance to trust the man who had both saved and destroyed him.
“Alright,” he whispered, his voice shaking. Erik visibly relaxed. “But be careful, Erik."
Erik nodded, his face set in grim determination. He closed his eyes, focusing all of his power, all of his will on the bullet lodged in Charles’ brain. He could feel it, cold and unyielding, a foreign object embedded deep in the fragile tissues of Charles’ mind. It was a delicate, terrifying task. One wrong move or miscalculation, and the bullet could shift, tearing through Charles’ brain like a knife through flesh.
Charles squeezed his eyes shut, trying to calm his racing heart, to ignore the growing pressure in his skull. He could feel Erik’s power like a magnetic field wrapping around the bullet, trying to contain it and to move it without causing damage. It was a nearly impossible task, and both of them knew it.
Sweat beaded on Erik’s forehead, his muscles tensed to the point of trembling as he began the painstaking process of manipulating the bullet. He moved it, twisting the crushed husk around to try and get it perfectly aligned with the entry wound, not allowing it to deviate even the smallest fraction. Every movement was excruciatingly slow, a dance on the edge of a razor blade. His mind begged him to pull it away slowly but his heart ached to rip it out and be done with this so he could go to Charles.
Charles bit down on his lip, hard enough to draw blood, trying to distract himself from the searing pain in his head. It felt like his skull was being torn apart from the inside, like his mind was being shredded with every tiny movement of the bullet. Tears leaked from the corners of his eyes, his body shaking uncontrollably, but he didn’t cry out. He couldn’t do that to Erik.
Erik’s own pain was no less intense, the strain of holding his power in such precise control pushing him to the brink of his limits. His hand shook violently, his body screaming for release, but he couldn’t stop. He wouldn’t stop. Not until Charles was safe.
Finally, after what felt like an eternity, the bullet began to emerge, sliding slowly out of the wound it had created. Erik’s breath came in ragged gasps, his vision swimming with the effort it took to maintain his focus. The metallic object hovered just at the surface, almost free, but not quite. Erik’s hands shook violently, his power fraying at the edges as he fought to keep control.
“Erik.” Charles whispered, his voice strained, “I can’t hold on much longer.”
“Just a little more,” Erik gritted out through gritted teeth. “Just a little more, Charles. Hold on for me.”
Charles’ vision blurred, the edges of his consciousness fraying, slipping into darkness. The blood poured as he felt his grip on reality weakening, the pain overwhelming everything else as it threatened to pull him under. But he held on, clinging to Erik’s voice through the haze of agony.
And then, with a final, desperate surge of power, Erik pulled the bullet free, the small piece of metal clattering to the floor with a hollow, echoing sound. The instant it was out, Charles gasped, his breath hitching as the pressure in his head eased, the pain receding just enough for him to think clearly again. Erik crushed the bullet into mere atoms and threw it aside. He faltered as his focus suddenly stopped and he stumbled forward. The sudden release of tension left Erik reeling, his strength drained, his vision dimming as exhaustion crashed over him like a wave. He staggered again, barely managing to stay on his feet, his hand slipping from Charles’ grasp as he struggled to stay conscious.
“Erik!” Charles cried, his voice raw with fear. He reached out, grabbing Erik’s arm, pulling him close. His bloodied hands marred Erik's skin with the stains of their shared failure. “Erik, stay with me!”
Erik’s knees buckled, and he collapsed to the floor, barely catching himself before he hit the ground. His vision swam, his entire body trembling uncontrollably as the last reserves of his strength were depleted. But even through the haze of exhaustion, he could feel Charles’ hands on him, and he could hear the frantic edge in his voice. He forced himself to hold on.
Erik’s heart ached at the sight of Charles’ tears, his own eyes stinging as he reached out, pulling himself to his knees. He rested his head in Charles' lap and melted into the touch of Charles' hands in his hair. He breathed out a fragile sigh.
“Are you okay?" He asked, tilting his head to catch Charles' eye. Charles chuckled.
"A mild headache." He joked. He tugged his bloodied fingers through Erik's hair gently.
"You've lost a lot of blood." Erik muttered. He traced patterns into Charles' thigh with his fingertips, worshipping the skin he knew Charles couldn't feel. "Has your telepathy come back yet?"
Charles stayed silent. Erik looked up and met his gaze. The air between them was uneasy.
"Charles..."
"I don't need it."
"Charles, I'm so sorry."
"Hey." Charles whispered as he cupped Erik's cheek. He didn't even realise he was crying until Charles wiped away one of his tears. "It's okay. I can live without it."
"But-"
"But nothing." Charles hummed. "You've come back to me. That's all that matters."
Through vulnerable tears, Erik raised his head from Charles' lap and cupped his cheek. He brought Charles' face down and pressed their lips together. He tasted like blood and sweat in a way Erik never wanted to live without.
"I'm sorry." Erik whispered, pressing his forehead to Charles'. He pulled back and studied Charles' face for a moment before rising to study the wound. "I shouldn't have let this happen."
"It's okay." Charles whispered as he wrapped his hand around Erik's wrist. He tugged him back down to his level to kiss him again. "I trust you, Erik. I'll be okay."
Erik's heart thudded at the mention of trust and he sighed. He wasn't one for affection and rose to his feet to avoid it, but Charles had already committed the stupid grin he was trying to hide to memory. Erik cleared his throat and straightened up.
"We need to get you help."
"Whatever you say."
Erik scooped Charles up from his chair and started to walk away from Cerebro. His footsteps echoed around the sterile halls as they headed for the upper levels of the school. Erik didn't know what was coming for them, but he knew that whatever happened from then on, he'd always find his way back to Charles.