driftfleet | (no subject)

[He shakes his head.]

You can read what's there now.

[The pages open in the book are covered with writing... about half of it crossed or scribbled out. He wasn't joking when he said it was a work in progress. Two sections are clear of any deletions, though.]

You told me that you would always be there for me. I know that's true, despite everything. But I also knew then that I haven't always been there for you.

[It's followed by a variety of aborted sentences; he hadn't gotten very far beyond that point. The right page, however, is more complete.]

The truth is that I left because I was afraid. I was afraid of what would happen to your school if I stayed in it, what would follow me there if I remained. More than that, I was afraid of what I lacked, and how obvious it would be the longer I stayed. ~~I wasn't~~ You were all looking forward to better things. I wasn't; I would only poison everything around me.

There's something nameless to the feeling, beyond that. I've only been able to see it now because of what happened on that wrecked ship. When I felt that kind of fear and realised it felt wrong, I started thinking back. To every other moment. I don't know how much of it is real and how much is twisted. But it exists.

It didn't feel that way then, either time. I had other reasons to go. Reasons I told myself, and you. Justifications. Now that I feel it so often, I know what it is.

[From there, the page is blank.]

[ Charles bites on his lip but there's no stopping the tears, the regrets that are written on the page, mingling with his own. The old bitterness comes welling up to choke his words. ]

My better things - the thing that I wanted was a future with you.

[ All this fear, this feeling . . . is that all it took to break their relationship? Would it just happen again . . . inevitably? Charles swallows tightly. ]

I'm glad - that you're finding your answers, Erik. Truly.

[ He hands back the notepad. ]

But this letter isn't for me. It's for you. I haven't changed, Erik. Nothing about me has changed. I still care the way I have. Still love the people I've chosen. The reasons don't matter to me.

[Something in his chest constricts painfully, the memory of wanting the same thing. Two lives, one where he wasn't brave enough to have the conversation and left, only to find another love in Magda where he had never expected to find anything of the sort again. And the other, where they had raised the question, painful as it was, and come through it.

He has to chase the thought back, give himself room to breathe.]

It's for both of us. [Whether Charles felt like he needed it or not, Erik felt that he deserved to have it in words. A truth he'd had to drag out of himself.]

The reasons do matter. I don't want to come back just for my own sake. I want to be part of your life. [Even if it's only as a presence. He wants to be there; it's something he can do, for someone he cares about deeply.]

[ Charles nods, but there's something . . . dismissive about the movement. Like he's heard Erik's words but he's not giving it much thought. Charles wants to retreat, but he forces himself to give this due consideration. ]

And you are. You can be. I wouldn't shut you out.

[ But haven't you already? a traitorous thought rings in his mind. He knows he has, to some degree. He can't do it again with Erik. Charles trusts Erik. Cares about him. More than that, clearly.

But he knows better to believe in Erik. Especially since Erik himself is still learning to trust and believe in himself. ]

[Erik doubts Charles would shut anyone out. It still forms a dim worry deep in his mind. Not shutting someone out isn't the same as inviting them in, however. Erik can see the slight pulling back, the distance reemerging. It prompts him to ask:]

Why did you ask me?

Because I wanted to know.

[ He wanted Erik to be a part of his life. That hasn't changed. Or . . . probably cannot change. It's been tied to his being for too long. ]

Because there are things I want.

Have you ever read the story of Pinocchio?

[Erik nods slowly, knowing what a decisive step it is for Charles to say what he wants. It has happened only rarely before... and it's more heartening that Erik was able to easily give his answer.]

A long time ago.

There's a character, Jiminy Cricket. He comes to Pinocchio to help him find himself, to become real.

Pinocchio kills him within the first few pages of his entrance. But Jiminy comes back. He stays. He helps. And he's ultimately forgotten when Pinocchio gets his wish.

[The allegory is clear. Erik's heart squeezes, and he remembers another time and place, where he'd told Charles not to stay if Erik was hurting him.]

That's not what you are.

Isn't it? Deep down in my bones, this is who I am. This is who the future wanted me to be. There was never any grand speech about any kind of personal fulfillment. Just the image of a brighter future for mutants.

[ He exhales, collecting his thoughts. ]

I'm not saying you hurt me. I'm not even blaming you. I just fooled myself into thinking otherwise.

[Erik stares at him for a long moment, before speaking.]

Charles, I have the utmost respect for you. You've done more for me, and for mutants, than could ever be expected or asked for. I know how important that future is to you. I know what you've given up to get there.

But that's bullshit.

I beg your pardon.

[Forgive him for his factory worker mouth. He sighs, tapping the pen against his leg.]

You've taken what your future self told you to be the sum of all parts, that nothing further exists than what he told you. He was living through the end of the world, from what you've said. He told you what you needed to hear in that moment. Not in this moment, or any other time.

You say that this is what the future wanted you to be. I shouldn't have to remind you that that future changed. You're more than just someone who helps, or a leader for those who have nothing else. You're a man with a heart, a mutant with a soul. You love and you care and you feel pain.

Of course I hurt you. Saying otherwise might help how it feels; I don't know. But saying you fooled yourself into those feelings does you a disservice. You, as someone who deserves just as much personal fulfilment as anyone else.

I wasn't drawn to you back when we met because I wanted your help, even if you've given it to me over and over. I wanted to be near you. And that hasn't changed.

[ Charles imagines his face has gone white. He certainly feels like he's dangling off a cliff and one precise word could make or break him. I want to come home. I wanted to be near you. The words he wanted to hear feel unreal, almost too good to be true and he doesn't want to repeat the pattern. But Charles can't deny the impact of them either. ]

No. But everything else has.

[Erik can feel his heart thundering louder in his ears, his fingers twitch in his lap. It's been like circling around a whirlpool, trying to skirt the edges without plunging into the swirling vortex in the middle. There's an inevitability to it, terrifying and attractive all at once.

He puts the notepad and pen aside, getting to his feet. He steps up next to Charles's chair.]

Some things changed. A lot of them. [A little quieter.] But not everything.

[Anything he could say next gets stuck in his throat, a knot of emotions twisting in his stomach. Words always prove to be hard to catch, like smoke on the breeze.

Instead, he leans forward and wraps his arms around Charles, hugging him.]

[ Charles briefly freezes, caught off guard. He can scarcely breathe before his hands reach out to grasp Erik's shoulders. They're shaking. Or perhaps he's shaking. He hears a sob and it takes him a moment to realize that's his voice. ]

[Erik feels the shudder in Charles's body and tightens his grip, tears blurring his own eyes before he shuts them. He lets out a shaky breath and his heart aches with it, with all the loss and love and fear that line the fractures there.]

[ Charles moves his hand to brush Erik's tears away, out of habit. ]

Oh, Erik.

[He just shakes his head slightly. Tears are nothing; he's used to them now. It's the contact after so long being restrained and doubtful that pierces him through. Erik's fingers curl against Charles's back.]

[ Charles smiles through his own tears. ]

Thank you.

[He reaches up haltingly to touch Charles's hand.]

You as well.

[ He leans against that quietly. ]

[He feels like he needs to catch his breath, almost, settle the whirling thoughts and emotions inside him. For a moment, Erik leans in and presses his lips to Charles's temple (it's odd not to feel anything but skin there he thinks distantly), an old gesture. Then he draws back, finally.]

[ Charles blinks, his hand almost going up to his forehead before he drops it awkwardly. ]

I . . . was afraid that everything changed. That it had been on me for believing that it wouldn't.

[Erik knows that kind of feeling intimately. He still hates himself for believing things would be all right in Poland, with his family. For hoping. "Don't worry. Everything will be all right," he'd told Magda, arm around her shoulders as they watched Nina playing in the yard with her 'friends'. Foolishness.

He's quiet when he replies, though he stays standing next to Charles rather than sit back down.]

You had no reason to believe otherwise, back then. ...Neither of us did. [It's the Fleet he means, because they both know what happened without those memories in 1973.] The things that did change were... significant.

[Even if feelings like love remained the same, the prism around them had altered, changing the view of it. Other things took over, became bigger priorities. Like a kaleidoscope, the truth of the thing distorted, turning into another picture.]