X-Men: The Gifted Ones

27. ERIK'S BEDROOM, MAGNETO HEADQUARTERS, LOCATION UNKNOWN

It had been a long day and Erik was tired. Being around Charles, having his guard up, always made him exhausted. He had been given a lot to think about today. Charles' mutant school. The wife. The wife surprised him. He could find so many uses for a mutant who could heal and absorb pain. He had a feeling there was more to her than just that, but no one was telling. Erik found her a pleasant surprise. She was very attractive, no surprise there as Charles had always appreciated a pretty face, but she clearly loved him. He noticed there was nothing power-hungry about her, unless it was hidden deeper. He found her unusually kind, and she even came across as nurturing. He wondered if she would ever be able to bring herself to care for any of the Brotherhood if they were in need.

He even found himself jealous of Charles.

He didn't understand how Charles could let his guard down long enough to fall in love, much less marry. Erik had no such inhibitions. Then again, Charles hadn't had to survive on his own wits. Charles didn't see his family dragged away by Nazis. He didn't see his father taken in one direction to work himself to death, his sister taken to the long line of people to be gassed because they were too young, too old, or too anything to be useful. He didn't see his own mother shot and killed in front of his very eyes. Erik had no room in his heart for the kind of love Charles felt for Jane. He only had anger. The only person he ever brought himself to truly love was himself, and even then he wondered.

His conceit and attention to appearances always made people assume he was gay. How could he describe his sexuality? Did he even have one? Did it even matter? In his years of searching for Sebastian Shaw, he had no time for sex. He was afraid any second his guard was down, he would be dead. Any feeling of humanity had been left behind on the train platform at Auschwitz. The four F's that were biology's basic drives would never been entirely present in his life. Fleeing- he had done that as a child, only to end up captured in the end. Fighting? That was his life's blood. Feeding? He loved good food, always appreciated an expensive meal at a restaurant, but was often too focused on his next fight to indulge in anything put in front of him. But sex? It wasted time. Wasted energy better spent on revenge.

But there was Mystique... the dear woman. She was likely the only other person he could ever let himself get close to once he and Charles each embarked on their own paths. He had loved Charles, too. Still did. The visit today brought back all of his feelings about his old friend. Charles was the first person who ever saw the good inside of him, who always tried to bring out the good. Charles, the privileged boy who had grown up with a silver spoon in his mouth and the love of the best nannies money could buy, everything he wanted at his fingertips. Charles had the look of someone who had only known love, happiness. He made Erik feel loved, wanted. His biggest mistake was he tried to make Erik feel too human. To Erik, to feel human was to feel weak. Charles made him feel too comfortable, too exposed. It unnerved him. And Erik had started to feel attracted to him, an attraction he was sure Charles would never reciprocate. And if Charles had known? Erik was afraid of how Charles would have reacted. Erik couldn't deal with rejection. It was bad enough when he wasn't wanted as a Jewish child by anyone, anywhere. He wasn't wanted in Poland, and he wasn't wanted in America or anywhere else when his parents tried desperately to flee for their lives.

Charles had wanted him, but not in the way that Erik had grown to want Charles. Charles viewed Erik as a brother, a friend, nothing more. Charles and Raven were the first hint of a family that he had had since his parents and sister were killed at the camps. Families were supposed to be comfortable, a source of security, but Erik forgot what it meant to be part of a family. Even the Brotherhood wasn't a family to him. It was an uneasy alliance whose hold on order was tenuous and strained at best. He could trust none of them, except Mystique.