When We Were Young

3 - we could be friends?

Erik doesn't talk to Charles.

Charles glances at him and attempts to bring his voice to his lips. Every time he tries, some emotion stirs within Eric and Charles's courage falters. The most common emotion Charles reads from Erik is anger. Charles can't tell if it is directed at him, or Shaw. He supposes it could be directed at Erik himself.

"I..." Charles can't finish the sentence. Erik turns his light gray eyes in Charles's direction, assessing the damage Shaw has inflicted.

"You spoke." Erik's voice is quiet. His eyes lock onto Charles's. The younger boy feels the intensity of emotions that fight for balance in Erik's mind.

"Well I am capable of speech," Charles states, pushing his glasses up on his nose. He really dislikes them.

"Look who's all snarky now."

"If you are angry with me for what happened, I'm sorry." Charles hopes his sincerity shines through his words. He really is sorry. If only he could have made it seem like it was all Charles's fault, then Erik would have gotten his food supply.

"I'm not angry." Erik's words surprise Charles. He is not angry? Then why had Charles sensed anger bubbling in Erik?

Charles can not resist the urge to mock the older boy. "I'm not angry . Then why, pray tell are you still fuming?"

"You know, you are such a brat for your age. How old are you anyway?"

"Eight and a half."

"So you're practically a baby."

Charles scowls and flicks his fingers at Erik. The older boys hand reaches up to slap Erik across the face.

"Hey! No doing that mind shit or anything. It's not fair," Erik regains control of his hand and uses it to massage the place it just hit. Charles can tell that Erik feels violated, even without his telepathy. It shows in the raw emotion of fear etched in Erik's face. Shaw is not here anymore, so what motive does Charles have for going in Erik's mind?

"And stay out of my head, baby."

"Then don't call me a baby."

"Ugh, just leave me alone." Erik shifts his body away from Charles, cutting the conversation to an end.

Charles can feel the betrayal coating around Erik's thoats. For their to be betrayal, there has to be trust. He wonders how, why, what he has done to earn even an ounce of trust from Erik. He had breached Erik's mind for Godsake, the older boy deserved every ounce of hatred.

Charles doesn't know if he would even trust himself.

"Erik..." He doesn't turn around, muttering something along the line of stupid little boy in Charles's direction.

Charles switches to another tactic.

Erik.

No. I said get out of my head.

Erik I am sorry.

I don't care if you are, just leave me alone!

Charles searches. He is searching for a memory, one hidden deep within Erik's mind. He finds a spark of a gun. A woman crumbling to ground. Erik's guttural cry of agony. Shaw, standing above a it all, gun in hand.

He killed her.

It is like a switch in Erik's mind. He lurches back around, anger filling his eyes. "What did you just say?" Gone is the annoyed ten-year-old present just moments before. He is replaced with this person, this being of pure rage.

Charles backs away, sending calm in Erik's direction. It does not seem to be working. Why is it not working?

"Erik I didn't mean anything I just-"

"You just what?" Erik doesn't let Charles get a word in. "You just violated my privacy. You just brought her up. You. just." Erik doesn't realize he has Charles's wrist in a bruising grip. "You know what you are? You're a little servant of that bastard. You're his little messenger. I'll make you watch as I slice through his head." Erik points to the space above Charles's glasses, in the crease between his eyebrows. "Right. here."

Charles's lip trembles the same way it did, the same way it always does, before Shaw hits him.

If Erik notices, he doesn't act on it. His eyes never leave Charles's.

"Erik, that hurts-"

"Don't say my name." It is then that Charles realizes that Erik is straddling Charles on the floor, with the telepath pinned by Erik's knees.

Erik will not listen to Charles like this.

Erik!

Confusion and anger battle for control of Erik's features.

Charles. I thought I told you to go away.

Erik's voice in his mind is much calmer than Charles expects it to be.

He killed mine as well.

Erik freezes, other hand inches away from closing in on Charles's throat.

He killed my mother too.

Erik backs off as if his skin had been burned upon contact with Charles. He scrambles away from Charles, allowing him to sit up. No tears trail down the younger boy's face. He has packaged his emotions of the event into a small compact box, tucked into a crevice in Charles's mind that even the telepath had no idea how to reach.

"He killed my mother too. The same way."

"You don't get to say that." Erik's voice is hoarse, and the skin beneath his eyes reddens. Not with embarrassment, but with incoming tears. Clearly he hasn't hidden his emotions quite as well as Charles has.

"And why not? I'm like you Erik."

"You are NOT."

Fury builds in Charles now. Was he not imprisoned just like Erik? Was he not a victim of Shaw's atrocities just like Erik? Was he not a child just like Erik?

"That's not fair Erik."

"Fair is not something you would know Charles. Fair is what normal boys and girls have."

Erik is shouting now. It hurts Charles's ears. He wishes Erik would stop.

"Erik-"

"Charles, just leave me alone," Erik groans, rubbing a hand over his face. "I'm too tired to deal with this."

"Did you mourn her?" Charles's voice is small.

Erik stops on his path to his bed. His shoulders are hunched and his frame shakes slightly with quiet tears.

"Every night."

Charles allows Erik a moment to collect his tears and stash them away. Charles allows him to crawl into his own bed, leaving just a small sliver of space for Charles to sleep on. Charles crawls next to him, their backs less than an inch apart. He can feel the heat emanating from Erik's body and Charles finds comfort in the presence of another.

"I meant you're good, Charles. You're truly good," Erik mutters. It seems like an afterthought but it brings a smile to Charles's face anyway.

A quiet tear slides down the slope of Charles's face and soaks onto the flat mattress.