Aboard
by elfin


The ship's a blur.

Erik eventually finds himself alone below decks in the brightly lit Admiral's stateroom, dressed in military-issue sweats that are too small for him, a dark blue towel on the seat beside him, wet from drying his hair.  He should be thinking about how he let Shaw escape after he’s dedicated his entire adult life to hunting him down, should be considering his abject failure to kill them man that up until tonight had occupied every waking thought.

But he isn’t.  He’s thinking instead about the man who pulled him away from the rapidly diving sub, the man who saved his life.  Charles Xavier wasn’t to know it’s a life not worth saving.

He'd been stunned when he saw the size and height of his rescuer when they finally stood on the deck; a small, almost fragile man.  His strength in the water had apparently only been in their minds.  It was a neat trick, Erik had to admit; he wondered how far Charles could take it, how powerful he was, how much damage he could cause.  A few well-placed words ten feet underwater had persuaded Erik to let his life’s only goal get away from him.  What could Charles do under other, more favourable circumstances?

“Much, much more.”

He didn’t hear the door open, but it’s closing now, and Charles is standing there, rubbing his own hair dry with a similar towel to Erik’s.  His sweats are too big for him, making him look even smaller, even more incapable of pulling a big man like Erik away from the one thing he’s spent his whole life chasing. 

“How did you do that?” he asks, and Charles smiles as if he’s overjoyed at simply being drawn into conversation.  Or maybe he just likes to talk about himself.  He throws the towel onto the seat alongside Erik’s and sits down on the other side of him, turning to face him, one arm along the back cushions, fingers inches from Erik’s neck.

“I’m going to assume you’re not asking for the detailed biology and just say that it’s something I’ve always been able to do.”

“You can read minds?”

“I can, yes.  But I don’t tend to, unless there's something I need."

“So you don’t know what I’m thinking right now?”

Charles blanks for a split second, then laughs.  “I know I am.  It has been said many times before now, believe me.”

Erik smiles in the way that a shark might just before devouring its lunch.

“I thought you didn’t read minds.”

“It’s like… the difference between information being sent and information you go looking for.  Most people broadcast their thoughts and emotions – anything at the forefront of the mind, any strong feelings.  If I opened myself to it all, I’d go insane in a second.”  His smile fades.  “Unfortunately, when I want to talk to someone inside their mind I have to go deep.”

“That’s how you knew my name?  You said you knew how much it meant to me to stop Shaw….”

"I'm sorry."  He looks and sounds more sincere in his apology than anyone Erik's ever met.  "It's difficult not to see everything when I do that."

He's spent his life keeping his past private; to have been laid bare without a word, without a thought, should enrage him.  The hull should be buckling in reaction.  But it doesn't.  It isn't.  He wonders if Charles is still in his head.

"Only on the surface."

He isn’t sure he can get used to that.

"It's very disconcerting when you answer questions I haven't asked."

"You have asked them - just to yourself, and you don't have the answers."

Erik smiles despite himself.  Unbelievable.

"You said I wasn't alone.  Were you just referring to yourself?"

Charles shakes his head.  "I believe there are many of us.  Agent McTaggert has seen at least two more - a transporter, and a woman who can turn to diamond-"

"She's with Shaw," Erik interrupts.  "She's a telepath, like you."

"Interesting."

"Painful."

His face falls.  "She hurt you."

The urge to reassure him is unnerving.  "I've experienced much, much worse."

"I know you have."  His sincerity is something else that Erik doesn’t know what to do with.

"Are there others, on our side?"

"My sister."  Charles smiles brightly, like the sun coming out.  And when did he become such a sap, such a poet?  "She's beautiful."

You're beautiful.  He can't help it but he regrets it instantly when Charles' expression changes to one of amusement.

"Thank you."

He's horrified. "I'm so sorry -"

"Don't be.  I'm used to picking up stray, accidental thoughts.  Some are innocent, most are frankly obscene."  He's laughing, so Erik does too.  It's too easy to relax in the man's company; it's something he's never experienced before.  It feels good.  It feels dangerous.

"Where are we going?"

"Once we get back on dry land, I believe we're heading to a secret CIA facility."

Erik's defences immediately drop into place, the sound of metal suddenly under pressure fills the room, and just as immediately Charles is reaching to reassure. 

"A prison?!"

"No!  No, I promise you.  It's just a base of operations, nothing more."  He's looking around at the walls, obviously concerned about taking a second - and potentially fatal - swim tonight.  Erik relaxes, letting his mind calm, hearing Charles' words from the water and finding himself uncertain whether or not it's just a memory or if Charles is in his head again.  "You think anyone could keep me prisoner?"

His interest is immediately heightened.  "Why not?"

"I can do more than read minds and speak to people through thought.  I can... control people."  There's a dark shadow in Charles' voice now that temporarily dims what comes across like an innate fascination for everything.  "I can see what others see, hear what they hear, feel what they feel.  Or I can take control of their bodies, hold them in place or make them do or say whatever I want."

He's stunned, speechless.  "Oh my God...."

"I would never, never do that to you, Erik.  Do not fear me.  I've learnt the difficult way how to control my abilities, how to use them only when necessary."

"How difficult?"  He feels it's all right to pry, because Charles has been in his head, presumably knows all there is to know about him.  He's finding that he wants the same in return.

Those haunting blue eyes look away from him for the first time. "When I was a young boy... I hurt one of my nannies.  I didn't know what I was doing.  I wanted to show her my nightmare but she started screaming and wouldn't stop.  I didn't know what to do.  She was taken to an asylum and just before I left
for Oxford I found out she'd killed herself, only a couple of weeks after being admitted, scratched her own eyes out and bled to death.  My parents kept it from me.  Or maybe they just didn't care to find out."

His regret, his sorrow, is palpable.  Something in Erik is telling him to run as far away as he can get, that becoming involved with this man and this 'team' the CIA agents had mentioned up on deck will be the undoing of him; that spending too much time around Charles will trap him in ways no one else has ever been capable of.

But it's too late and he knows it.  He's already hooked.  Not on the team - he's never really been what anyone would call a 'team player' and can take or leave the offer - but on the extraordinary man sitting beside him, the man who looks at him without fear or pity or greed.

"It seems like many of us... 'mutants' will have been born in fire."

Charles nods, and the clouds pass.  He smiles again.  "You'll come with us?"

"I'll take a look, but I'm not promising anything."  He has to fight to keep an answering grin from his own face.

"You won't regret it."

"But you might."

Charles shrugs. "I'll take that chance."

fin
elfin