7/28/2019 Puzzle Pieces : a Cherik ficlet

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Puzzle Pieces : a Cherik ficlet

Written by Courtney Banh (xLilypoolx)

Based on events from XMFC, James McAvoys Charles Xavier (Professer X), and MichaelFassbenders Erik Lensherr (Magneto)

Inspired by XMDoFP set pics

Some references to the original X-Men trilogy

Charles sat by the large window in his office. Sunlight streamed into the room, warminghim and highlighting the dust specks that swirled lazily in the air. Settled comfortably in his

wheelchair, he gazed out the window overlooking the grounds of Xaviers School for Gifted

Youngsters. That was the official name now. It had taken months, much shorter than Charles

had initially expected, for the government to formally approve the school as an officialinstitution. Granted, Charles and Hank had worked hard, buried deep in research and paperwork

for days at a time, to keep the schools location and exact purpose a secret without arousing

suspicion among the government. But through loopholes, careful study of application

procedures and school codes, and meticulous maneuvering, they had successfully and finallytransformed the mansion into a school for mutants.

In truth, it was more than a school. It was a home for youngsters who had felt lost,afraid, uncertain. Alone. Charles made sure that he met every newcomer, looked every child in

the eye and assured them that they were not alone.

Charles closed his eyes. It had been almost half a year since Cuba. There wasnt a daythat went by that Charles didnt think back on it. Depending on the day, the memory brought

varied emotions. On some days, anger. Other days, pain. Different days, sadness. But there

was one feeling that never failed to accompany that particular memory: longing. It had taken

many weeks after the incident for Charles to admit to himself that he ached to go back to that dayand change everything. He still didnt know how or what exactly he would have done

differently. But he wouldnt have let it end like that.Charles opened his eyes and watched a group of children play basketball in the courtyard.Nearby, two youngsters were engrossed in a game of chess.

Cuba felt so long ago and yet at the same time so raw and fresh. The grief had finally

numbed to a dull ache that Charles carried in his chest wherever he went. He never ceasedwondering where Erik was now. What he was up to. If Erik ever thought about Charles the way

he did. Like now.

Even though Charles knew that Erik wore the helmet, he refused to give up on trying to

find him. What Charles would do if he did locate Erik, he wasnt sure himself. He just neededto know he was okay.

During his daily exercises in Cerebro, Charles searched not only for other mutants,

especially potential students for the school, but constantly for Erik. And each time, for the pastsix months, Charles had reached out, only to feel nothing.

Charles was brought back to the present by a gentle knock on the office door. He silently

scolded himself on getting lost in his thoughts; he didnt have time for that when he had a schoolto run. Charles supposed that one of the new professors had come to ask him a question,

possibly about the curriculum, or maybe to share concerns about a particular student. They had

been having a few cases with disobedience lately as more youngsters arrived at the school with

wild impulses and untrained powers.

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Come in, Charles called. The door clicked softly as it opened and closed.

Thank you for knocking, Charles said as he spun around in his wheelchair to face the

newcomer. A few students have become fond of barging right in without a Charles nevergot to finish his sentence. Because standing before him was Erik Lensherr.

Rarely was Charles ever caught off guard. But then again, if he had been alert, he would

have noticed that he could not sense the mind of the person who had knocked. He had beensurprised by the very person who had been inhabiting his thoughts at that precise moment.

Erik was dressed in a long gray coat, blue shirt, flared plum-colored pants, and a short

green scarf. His helmet fit snugly over his head, but Charles could see that Eriks hair was stilltrimmed short, unlike his own.

Erik, what are you doing here? Charless voice was sharp.

What do you think, Charles? Oh, wait. Erik tapped his helmet. You dont know

what I think.If you harmed anyone on your way up here

Charles was interrupted by Eriks humorless chuckle. You insult me, Charles. You

think I would hurt children?

I dont know what to think of you anymore, said Charles, his voice hard. You seemedfine with trying to kill hundreds of innocent men.

How many times must I remind you? Theres no such thing as an innocent man.Eriks voice was cold, traces of anger visible on his face.

What do you want, Erik?

I wanted to visit you, of course. See how youre doing. Is that a crime?So you decide to unexpectedly drop in at my office without any warning after six

months of no contact? Charles couldnt keep the anger out of his voice nor, to his frustration,

the pain. And the longing.

Good thing I did, too. You look terrible, said Erik. Charles had given up caring for hisappearance. He now wore a scraggly beard, and his once well-groomed hair was unkept and

stringy. Was Charles imagining it, or was that genuine concern in Eriks eyes? What Charles

would give to know what Erik was thinking. Anywhere else, and I wouldnt have recognizedyou.

Actually, I dont believe there are too many paralyzed cripples in wheelchairs, Charles

stated dryly. And Im sorry I didnt deal too well with losing my sister and my best friend.Charles was never this bitter. Never this selfish. And he hated himself for it.

Self-loathing was common for Charles since Cuba. He had spent a month in bed

recovering from his spinal injury and then another month forcing the wheelchair into submission.

He had also reverted to his drinking habits from his college days and only recently became soberagain. Although he had worked with Hank on applications and paperwork for the school, he had

spent the rest of his time drinking. One particularly bad day, Sean and Alex had come to his

study only to find Charles in a drunk rage, the furniture overturned, broken bottles and chesspieces scattered all over the floor.

There was no denying the flash of guilt and pain across Eriks face, but it was gone as

quickly as it had come. Mystique is fine. In fact, better than ever. I came to ask you if youwould join us. The Brotherhood.

Were brothers, you and I. Every day Charles had thought of those last words on the

beach. If you havent noticed, Im busy running a school.

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We could use a great mind like yours, Erik pressed. I need someone next to me that I

can trust.

Eriks persistence surprised Charles. Was Erik pleading with him? It remindedCharles of what Erik had said to him in Cuba, how he had begged Charles the same thing he

asked of him now. Charless heart ached. He felt a sudden whim to leave everything and follow

Erik, but just as suddenly it was extinguished by hard logic and reason.Im sorry, Erik. And Charles was.

I dont see why you cant do both at once. Be the schools headmaster and part of the

Brotherhood. Erik had taken to begging. It shattered Charless heart. Had Erik truly expectedthat he would be able to persuade him?

We dont want the same thing, Charles said quietly but firmly.

The effect was immediate. Charles could see the small flame of hope die in Eriks eyes.

He didnt need to be a telepath to see that. Or the pain across Eriks face.Charles felt defensive. I could ask of you the same. You could teach here. Charles

proposed it like a mere notion, but he was dead serious. At this point, he realized that he was

willing to do close to anything to regain Eriks friendship.

But Erik just gave a cold laugh. I dont fit here, Charles. You know that.You do. You fit with me. Like puzzle pieces. Charless thoughts dashed through his head.

Were a puzzle that needs to be put back together. If only Erik could hear him. If only Erikwasnt wearing that bloody helmet!

Charles looked directly into Eriks eyes. Please, Erik. Come back. Stay with me. I want

you by my side. These were words Charles knew he could never say aloud.

I need you.This place can be your home, Charles blurted. The words rushed out of his mouth.

Now it was his turn to plead. To beg. I can make it your home.

Erik hesitated. It was my home, Charles. But that was a long time ago.It still can be. Erik. Erik looked away. Erik. Please.

Maybe I should get going. But Erik didnt move. And then Charles knew.

Erik didnt want to leave him. Not again.Charles forced himself to seal up the cracks in his heart, the fractures in his mind. If he

couldnt hold himself together now, if he couldnt keep himself from falling to pieces right here

in front of Erik, he wasnt sure if he could ever put himself back together.Charles regained his composure, although the burning sensation in his nose near his eyes

that never failed to warn him of oncoming tears didnt go away. How about a game of chess

first? He gestured at the chess board already set out on his desk.

Erik looked at Charles. His eyes said everything he wanted to say, and more. But Eriksimply replied, I dont see why not. He paused and allowed himself the smallest of smiles.

Old friend.