Memories

Chapter Twenty

Charles was awoken by angry voices and screaming thoughts in his head. In Charles's opinion, it was much too early for an argument.

But, apparently, Logan, Erik, and Emma didn't seem to agree.

Charles struggled into his wheelchair, going down the elevator to growl at them for waking him up. Charles wasn't a morning person, and this was basically nighttime to him. The sun was just barely beginning to rise, but Charles didn't have time to watch the beautiful site.

He rolled to living room where the loud voices and louder thoughts were coming from, and the voices instantly quieted as Charles entered. They were trying to calm their own minds, but they were failing epically.

"Why have you all woken me at this ungodly hour?" Charles asked with a frustrated, tired sigh, rubbing his temples. Charles heard Erik chuckle, and his gaze landed on him and the offensive mental helmet.. "You always were a late riser," Erik said fondly, and Charles wanted to scowl. Instead, a fond smile came upon his lips.

"Sorry, Chuck, we didn't mean to wake you," Logan said, only slightly apologetic and sounding grumpier than usual. He didn't like mornings, either. Alex, Darwin, and Sean were poking their heads out from the kitchen, Hank was probably hiding in his lab, Angel was sticking her head out from the other side of the kitchen as the boys, Janos and Riptide were sitting together on the couch behind the fighting trio, and Raven was probably holed up in her room or the gym. The younger kids wouldn't be up for a while.

"Quiet yelling only works if your thoughts are quiet, too," Charles sighed, yawning. He really was too tired for this. "Why were you fighting?" Charles asked, hoping to hurry up this chat.

"Your pet here was insulting Erik, who refused to defend himself. So I defended him, and that's what happened," Emma supplied when neither man answered, her cold gaze on Charles as she crossed her arms across her chest, completely ignoring the growling Wolverine next to her.

Charles thought about it, and it made sense. All he had heard from the yelled thoughts was a few words, such as Erik's name, and Emma's and Logan's voices in his head. He couldn't make out what everyone was saying, but Emma and Logan had sounded angry. Erik looked...sad.

"Logan, try not to pick fights. I apologize, Emma and Erik, but do please try to keep it down mentally next time. You are a telepath, Emma. You can do that. At least until a more reasonably hour," Charles said, yawning again as he rolled away.

He heard the footsteps following him, and he knew it was Erik's. He'd recognize those footsteps anywhere. Charles wouldn't be able to go back to bed now, so he went to the library instead. "Would you like to play a game of chess?" Charles asked his silent companion, wishing once again that the helmet was off of Erik's head. Charles longed to just catch a glimpse into Erik's beautiful mind, but Charles would not go against Erik's wishes, even if the helmet was off.

Erik, instead of verbalizing his answer, went straight to the chess board that was still laying on the small table in front of the fireplace. Charles hadn't bothered to put it away after Erik had gone, too depressed to even think about entering the library. Instead, he'd had one of the boys bring him a book whenever he finished one.

After a while, when he finally had dared to enter the library, he couldn't bring himself to clear the board of their last game. Erik had told him exactly what he planned to do when they finally did confront the man that had destroyed Erik's life, but Charles hadn't quite been able to believe that the man he loved was capable of killing. He'd wanted to believe Erik couldn't kill someone in cold blood, but he had. Twice.

Charles rolled himself up to the table, his pieces being white while Erik's were black. Charles made his first move, then Erik went. They continued in this way, Charles and Erik alternating between collecting each other's pieces.

"I enjoy playing chess with you," Erik said, collecting one of Charles's pieces. "Yes, well, you are a fun challenge," Charles replied, taking two of Erik's pieces now. Erik made his move, taking two of Charles's. Charles went to take three of his, but as he went to move his piece, Erik took Charles's hand in his own. Charles looked up at Erik, who was staring at him.

"Erik..." Charles began, pained. It didn't seem fair to Charles. Erik was playing with his emotions. Erik was getting Charles's hopes up- just as he had done not long ago, before Cuba. He'd made Charles believe he would stay, and then he left him high and dry. He'd left Charles with a hole in his chest that no one could fill.

"Charles, I am truly sorry for what I've done to you," Erik apologized, his voice sincere. Charles wondered that if he had the chance, would Erik change what he had done? Charles wasn't sure Erik would if he could.

"Erik, I know you regret what you did to me." A look of suspicion crossed his face, as if he believed Charles could somehow penetrate the helmet. "I can see the remorse on your face every time you look at me," Charles explained, holding back his frustration. A look of relief crossed his face, and Charles wanted to roll his eyes.

"When did you stop trusting me in your head?" The question popped out before Charles even realized it, and Charles could see Erik emotionally receding from him, curling in on himself and hiding away from Charles's scrutiny. Erik's distrust was bubbling to the surface fast. "Who said I ever trusted you in my head?" Erik replied coldly, releasing Charles's hand. Charles wanted to grab his hand and hold it tight, but he knew he couldn't.

Charles turned away from Erik, not wishing to have this argument. It was still too early, and Charles wasn't nearly numb enough. It'd been a long time since he'd had a drink, and how he longed for the burn going down his throat now. One day, and Erik already had Charles in knots. How was he supposed to survive any extended amount of time?

Regret and distrust battled within Erik; he regretted hurting him, but he didn't trust Charles in his head. He didn't want Charles seeing the deepest, darkest parts of him. Erik feared Charles would reject him if he knew the thoughts and memories that swirled within Erik's head.

The metal-bender had done many things that Charles would never approve of, and some of those things remain in his mind still, haunting him. Charles would never allow Erik to touch him if he knew, so Erik has to wear the helmet. Erik couldn't bear never touching Charles's soft skin again. Erik had to protect Charles from his thoughts.

"Charles, I..." Erik trailed off, unsure of what to say. "Erik, just go," Charles sighed, the chess game long since forgotten. Erik stiffly left the room, feeling utterly dejected as he left.

Not for the first time, Charles wished he was human. Charles, for the first time in months, went over to the little minibar in his office and pulled out a glass and some alcohol.