Work Text:
1962
Charles' fists clenched by his sides for a moment as Erik screamed at him from the other side of the room, blue eyes looking away from the other mutant as he tried to calm himself down. He didn't know what to say to Erik, he feared any word that left his mouth would anger the other man more, and he wasn't allowed to look to know.
"What is wrong with you?" Erik screamed, making Charles wince, eyes still avoiding Erik's as he tried to keep his breathing even, feeling an urge to cry that he tried to push back.
"I said I was sorry, I didn't-"
"Charles, you kissed me in a bar full of people and almost got us killed." Erik grunted as Charles shrunk a little more. "If I hadn't taken us out of there…"
"You told me you wanted me to kiss you right then and there!"
"I wasn't saying it literally!"
"And how was I supposed to know?"
"By using common sense- Where are you going?"
Charles huffed, feeling his hands shaking as he grabbed his bag, ignoring the few things that belonged to him that were spread across the room — he could come back for them the next day, when Erik would be in the shower and he wouldn't need to worry about facing Erik.
He didn't remember the last time he felt so stressed about something, so helpless, like nothing he did was right.
"I'm going to ask for another room," Charles mumbled, wiping his face of the tears that finally ended up falling, groaning in frustration for crying. "I want to be alone."
"Charles-"
"I know you're mad at me now, it's hard to miss this one," he shrugged, his back to Erik as he walked to the door. "I don't want to be here right now."
The receptionist had given him a weird look when he arrived at her desk with tears still falling. She felt incredibly tired, but seemed to not mind being bothered by Charles when he asked for a key for another room. When she smiled at Charles while handing him the keys, Charles stilled for a moment, checking the girl's mind before smiling back. Her mind seemed calm, clear and as happy as it could be considering she was working the late hours, and the smile seemed genuine.
As he sat on the bed, Charles tried to breathe, laying on the bed and hugging his legs close to his chest until he felt too tired to stay awake while replaying the moment at the bar with Erik over and over again, trying to see where he had gone wrong — or at least what he had gotten wrong — before the kiss.
1940
Brian finished his beginning notes with a sigh, putting the notepad away and staring at his son for a moment. Charles was on his highchair, chubby arms flailing around as he laughed at nothing in particular, his mind projecting his feelings towards Brian — the whole reason he decided to do that.
The baby seemed happy, big blue eyes staring at Brian with some kind of love that made the man smile. Everyone had always wondered about what babies thought, and the idea that Charles gave him the answers everyday was thrilling.
Charles, on a daily basis seemed to think about his favorite toy, his mother's and Brian's face, and of the nanny that would feed him whenever Brian or Sharon weren't able to — or didn't want to, in Sharon's case.
He sighed as he remembered his wife, shaking the thoughts away before taking his notepad again for a moment, quickly adding the words "Ten months old" to it then putting it away again. Charles laughed once more, making Brian smile at the sound, knowing well that Charles wanted to grab his attention.
He played with Charles for a moment, reacting accordingly to all of the baby's cues like Charles wanted him to, and then he stopped, turning back and taking a deep breath before turning around again to face Charles, his face blank this time. Instead of responding to Charles' cues visually, Brian tried his best to think repeatedly of the positive feelings so Charles would pick up on them.
He had seen it happen before, had seen Charles cry his lungs out one day when Sharon had been angry, even if she wasn't externally showing it — his hope was that Charles would pick up on other feelings as well. He needed to know how strong Charles' telepathy was.
As expected, Brian's lack of reaction wasn't well received, Charles realizing something was wrong when, even if Charles laughed, screamed, or flailed his limbs around, he couldn't get a reaction. When Charles started to cry, Brian hoped that it would happen then, that Charles' mind would pick up on the positive thoughts, but Charles didn't.
Ten minutes of crying later, Brian just sighed and gave up, finally moving to take the baby from his highchair and bounce him around, softly telling him everything was alright.
Slowly, Charles started to calm down, sometimes whining to himself as he looked at Brian's face, clearly more relaxed when he saw his father's smile there, showing him everything was alright.
When Charles finally slept, Brian went back to his notepad, pursing his lips for a moment before picking up the pen.
Charles didn't react to mental cues, relying only on the visuals. Unclear if the reason was that my thoughts weren't intense enough or if the baby's age affects the results of the experiment.
Further tests needed.
1962
Breakfast next morning felt like hell as Charles kept his eyes down the whole time, unsure on what to say. He couldn't tell if Erik was still mad at what had happened the night before, his face as stoic as always. He had talked to Charles normally, which should be a good sign. Alas, Charles had learned that Erik being polite with him wasn't a sign of everything being well.
He longed to look, to stop blocking Erik's mind and understand what the other man was thinking, but Erik had asked — demanded — him not to, and he had sounded serious when he did so, his thoughts a clear warning for Charles to do as he was told. That was maybe the last time Charles was completely sure of what Erik wanted of him.
"Where are we going next?" Erik asked, his eyes still down to his food when Charles finally looked up again, dreading having to answer something. His voice sounded casual enough.
"Not far," he said in a quiet voice as he watched Erik munching on his food, eyes apparently avoiding Charles. So maybe he was mad. "A city just a few hours from here. I think the mutant works in an amusement park."
Erik smiled then, chuckling a bit and raising his eyes to finally look at Charles, making the telepath confused again. The smile seemed genuine.
But then again, Charles had learned once that they not always were. He tried to suppress a shudder at the memory that threatened to come back, a quiet urgency to look into Erik's mind. He didn't, allowing Erik's voice to keep him in the present.
"An amusement park?" Charles nodded, seeing the smile on Erik's lips widen a little, resting his chin on his hand now as he looked at Charles. "Will you take me on a ride to hold my hand, Charles?"
Charles frowned, shifting on his seat as he tried to understand what was happening. Erik was mad just then, had screamed at Charles the day before, and yet he seemed to be flirting now. Or was he provoking Charles?
Charles' jaw clenched for a moment, telling himself it was nothing. Even so, that old fear came back to the back of his mind. Maybe Erik was mad after all, maybe there was a darkness to his mind that Charles couldn't see because of his promise not to look. Maybe, that quiet and old voice inside his head thought, he'd lose Erik.
It was irrational, Charles knew it well — it wasn't the same situation, it didn't correlate — but fears weren't rational most of the time.
Erik's brow furrowed then, mirroring Charles' expression as he seemed to notice there was something wrong.
"Are you alright?" Erik questioned, looking at Charles with clear confusion.
Charles blinked a few times, looking down at his food and shoving some of it in his mouth — his pancakes tasted like nothing when it touched his tongue then, too nervous to enjoy the rest of his food. He nodded his head dismissively, trying to let it clear for Erik that he didn't want to talk. It apparently didn't work.
"Is it because of last night?" Erik kept going, Charles' eyes still avoiding him. "Look, I'm sorry for screaming, but you almost got us killed there…"
"I know. You said that very loudly," Charles mumbled, hearing Erik sigh. "It's okay, really. I just want to finish my food."
When they got inside the car later that morning, Erik was smiling at him again, talking to him normally as the wind made Charles' hair get inside his eyes. As relieving as it was, Charles couldn't help but dread the next time he'd read Erik wrong again, a quiet uncomfortable feeling settling in his chest.
1940
September 16th, 1940
Experiment: Today, the goal is to see if Charles' abilities allow him to separate the visual cues from mental cues when they contradict each other.
Test subject: Charles F. Xavier, 14 months old.
Results: Charles' reaction to mental cues is becoming better with each day that passes ever since he learned to ignore the visual cues. He was able to tell a thought from an expression easily, ignoring the apparent angry expression being directed at him as long as my thoughts showed I was happy. He hesitated for a moment when I first frowned, but it took him barely two seconds before he relied on my mind to know the truth. He also reacted accordingly when I kept a smile and thought negative things.
He's starting to do it on a daily basis, even when we're not experimenting. Still, I feel like I barely scratched the surface of his abilities.
Further tests needed.
1941
December 22nd, 1941.
Experiment: Today, the goal is to try to keep my thoughts away from Charles and see how he reacts without the mental cues.
Test subject: Charles F. Xavier, 2 years and 5 months old.
Results: I apparently managed to keep Charles away from my mind, forcing him to rely only on visual cues to understand what was happening. If an expression was clear enough, he was able to tell if my feelings were positive or negative. However, if I wasn't clear enough, he seemed distressed, asking me what was wrong. I believe he now relies more heavily on his mind to tell him what's going on around him.
Further tests needed.
1943
July 13th, 1943.
No experiments today.
Charles is getting more insightful with each day that passes. The house staff is already used to his insightful personality, the people who don't know him and/or what he can do think he's a very empathetic child, they just have no idea how much.
It's interesting to notice how Charles reacted to the party earlier tonight to celebrate his fourth birthday: he seemed overwhelmed for a while around all the guests. I had to take him away from the party for a few minutes before he seemed to get used to the amount of stimuli around him. He seemed to be able to focus on a person at a time when interacting with them. I should try to test that control some other time.
1962
Charles had managed to not get into long conversations with Erik for the next few days, only talking when necessary. It was stressful, and maybe the only time when Erik's presence didn't scare him was during their chess matches — it was almost comfortable to be able to not know what Erik was thinking in these occasions, the game always a little more thrilling that way — but Charles always feared what would come after it.
He was glad that, at least, words didn't need to be exchanged during sex either, and he'd go to his separate room after.
Almost a week after their fight, however, Erik exploded again.
Charles was going to his room early, tired after meeting with someone with a lovely mutation, but that had unfortunately declined their invitation to go with them, when Erik followed him before he could close the door behind himself. Charles' eyes widened as he saw the way Erik was glaring at him, anger clear as day on his face.
He tried to think of what he could've done or said this time, his palms sweating as he realized he couldn't remember anything. Maybe Erik wasn't mad, maybe Charles was reading him wrong again, even with the clear signs of anger on his face. Without looking into his mind, anything was a possibility.
"You're running away from me," Erik accused, Charles' lips pressed together on a tight line now as Erik's voice sounded angry — so he was mad after all. "Why's it?"
"I'm not," Charles tried, his voice shaky as he tried to get himself back together. Despite his fear of saying the wrong thing, Charles muttered, "We spent the whole day together."
"And you barely started conversation," Erik offered, crossing his arms, still glaring at Charles. "You are being vague for the past couple of days, Charles, and you are never vague about anything because you love to talk." Charles swallowed at that, suddenly wondering if Erik meant it as a bad thing. The idea that Erik had been irritated all the times Charles had talked too much felt painful — he had never showed irritation if that was the case, but Erik wasn't much for showing emotions. "You also leave me as quickly as you can, and refuse to share a room. Why?"
"I might just want my privacy," Charles shrugged, turning around from Erik to take off the suit jacket he was wearing, hoping that Erik would leave.
"Ironic, isn't it?" Erik started, Charles' body tensing up immediately at his words. "Considering your telepathy?"
"Shut up!"
The words left Charles' mouth before he could think, his body turning around abruptly as he glared back at Erik. The other man seemed surprised, eyes widening and arms uncrossing slowly as he watched Charles' reaction.
"Shut up! I have done nothing but respect your privacy ever since you asked me to stay away." He almost screamed, and part of him could feel the neighbors in the next room aware of the fight that was happening. For that, Charles took a deep breath, trying to lower his voice before speaking again. "You want to know why I don't talk with you as much? It's because I don't want to make you upset! And it clearly didn't work since you're angry at me right now."
"Why would I be angry at you for talking to me?"
"Because I don't know what would make you mad!" Charles confessed, anger slipping from his face as his voice saddened. In front of him, Erik was frowning. "Because I don't know when you're being serious or not unless you blatantly say it-"
"Is this because you can't read my mind?"
"No, I-"
"You can't just use it as a crutch all the time-"
"It's not a fucking crutch!"
Charles screamed this time, frustration making his eyes fill with tears as he forced himself not to cry. Erik seemed taken aback, body moving away from Charles for a quick moment as if Charles' outburst had scared him.
"It's not a crutch when it's the only way I can understand what's happening around me. I don't know if you noticed, Erik, but I haven't been able to do anything other than upset you whenever we interact, because I don't know what you're feeling unless it's very clear," Charles said, rubbing his face with his hands for a moment as he tried to take a deep breath. "I can't- I never learned to understand social cues, and unless the visual cue is very clear I have no idea what someone's feeling. And even when it is, it's hard for me to say."
Erik seemed to study Charles for a moment, his face blank again and making Charles worry about what was going on inside the other man's head. After a few seconds, Erik sighed.
"Is it because of your mutation? You never had to worry about social cues?"
Charles' fists clenched by his sides for a moment, eyes going to the ground as he remembered his father. He shook his head.
"No. Not entirely, at least," he said quietly. "I don't want to talk about it."
"Charles-"
"Can you leave, please?" He asked, eyes still downcast, avoiding Erik's face. "I need to sleep, I'm tired."
Nothing was said for a few seconds, and Charles feared Erik wouldn't leave. When the sound of the door opening and closing hit his ears, however, Charles' body finally relaxed, his shoulders sagging as he pressed his hands against his face.
He remembered for a moment about his father's old notebooks and tapes full of notes and recordings on every experiment he had done on Charles — the very first one, he remembered, explained how Charles hadn't reacted to his father's mind, only his face; he felt like that baby again, except the situation seemed to be the other way around.
1945
"Log number 253. Test subject Charles Francis Xavier-"
"What are those things on my head?"
"Stay quiet, Charlie- It's okay, it's there so I can see your brain waves. It won't hurt you. Let me start the recording."
"Okay."
"It's October 25th, 1945. Today, my goal is to observe Charles' brain waves while he uses his abilities. The test I'll be using will be the one he's already used to: visual against mental. I'll be recording the process on this tape- Charles is now six years and three months old."
"I'm a big boy!"
"You are, champ. Now, I need you to pay attention to me, alright?"
"Alright."
"Now, tell me what I feel."
[...]
[...]
"You're sad."
"What?"
"Sad. You're sad."
"N-No, Charles… You're- Pay attention to the things I'm thinking right now, alright?"
"Alright."
[...]
[...]
[...]
"So?"
"You're sad."
"Charles-"
"You don't love mommy anymore. Why don't you love her?"
"How- How deep are you looking- Alright, Charles I need you to pay attention on- on the things I'm thinking right now."
"Sorry, I made you upset… I'm sorry, daddy."
"It's alright, champ. Pay attention, okay?"
"Can I ask a question?"
[...]
"Go ahead. Sure."
"Why do you think so much about the gun in your desk?"
1962
Charles woke up with the sound of his door opening in the middle of the night, sitting up on the bed quickly to see who was there when he noticed Erik, his face barely visible with the light that entered from the motel's window.
"Erik?" Charles asked out loud, pulling his telepathy away from the other man immediately after recognizing him, watching as Erik walked to his bed.
There was no answer, and Charles was left only to follow Erik's movements with his gaze as he took off his shirt and pants, apparently barefoot already, before getting himself under Charles' sheets, sighing as his head rested on the pillow. Charles remained up, frowning down at Erik the whole time, wondering what was happening.
"Lay with me," Erik finally said, voice quiet and tired. "I'm asking. Loud and clear."
Charles studied the other man's form for a moment, unable to see Erik's face properly in the partial darkness, but knowing Erik's green eyes were on him. He hesitated, his hands clenching around the blanket tightly, before he sighed and complied, allowing his body to relax as soon as he was laying down again.
"What are you doing here, Erik?" Charles mumbled, turning himself to face the other man now, that nervousness that had become normal whenever he talked to Erik coming back.
"I wanted to sleep with you tonight," Erik said quietly, eyes still on Charles. "We were doing that when we shared rooms, and I think I got used to it. But I… I wanted to understand what you said to me earlier, Charles." Erik sighed in the dark, one hand moving to touch Charles' chin gently. "You said you didn't want to upset me, but I don't want to upset you either."
"It's not your fault," Charles shook his head as much as he could, eyes looking away from Erik's face. "It's not mine either. It's- It's very complicated."
"The night is young."
Charles hesitated again, knowing only Raven knew about why he needed his telepathy so badly — it was the only reason why she would allow him to see her surface thoughts, even if she was always wary that Charles would go deeper.
After a while, however, he exhaled shakily, getting himself a little more comfortable on the bed as he started to talk, the uncertainty of what Erik was thinking about his words making his hands sweat and his words break one too many times.
Even so, Erik listened.
"I'm sorry," Erik whispered after a minute of silence. Charles felt incredibly tired.
"You didn't know," Charles offered, his voice as quiet as Erik's. "Will you…"
"Can you promise me you won't go too deep?"
Charles stared at the other man in the dark for a moment, hearing how hesitant Erik's voice seemed to be. It sounded stiff, and Charles considered taking back his words. If he did, however, he'd keep threading the line with Erik, and he didn't want to.
"I promise," Charles nodded, hearing the exhale from Erik, like he had been holding his breath.
When Charles' mind touched Erik's surface thoughts again after so long, he smiled. Erik was worried, the stiffness on his body now clear to Charles.
As he placed a kiss on Erik's lips, he felt the way Erik relaxed with it, pulling Charles into an embrace that seemed to make both of them relax.
Erik's arms felt safe, and Erik feel the same.
1946
Charles sat in front of his father again, watching as the man got everything ready like he always did, but Charles was frowning. Brian had a smile on his lips as he looked at Charles, his eyes kind as always, but his mind felt like a dark pit that scared Charles, even if the boy would never say it out loud.
"Log number 328. Test subject Charles Francis Xavier, seven years and one month old," his father said to the recording device next to his mouth, sitting in front of Charles with his notes in hand.
It was a familiar process, Charles couldn't remember a time when he hadn't done that with his father — he was helping Brian at with work, helping him with science, or so Brian had told him. Even so, even with the familiarity of the process, Charles felt uncomfortable then, staring at his father as his mind seemed loud with a sadness that threatened to make Charles himself cry.
"Ready?" His father asked suddenly, putting the device away as it recorded their voices.
Hesitantly, worried that his father would reprimand him for talking about other things while they were recording something, Charles whispered, "Why are you so sad?"
Brian seemed to halt for a moment, his thoughts alert as he seemed to push Charles away from his mind. Suddenly, there was nothing for Charles to feel, only seeing the smile on his father's face. Even so, Charles knew it wasn't real.
"Let's focus on this, alright Charlie?" Charles nodded his hands tugging at the ends of his shirt nervously. "I think this will be the last time we'll do this. I just want to make sure I got everything right."
Later that night, Charles would hear the sound of a gun firing somewhere around the house, noticing the sudden loss of his father's mind from the many that lived in the mansion. The police would come to his house hours after that, asking what had happened, and his mother would be crying the whole time, not believing in what she saw. He'd look for his father too, pushing past some policemen before they could catch him, and see his father splayed over his desk, blood on the wall and the wooden desk and floor. He'd remember the dark pit that had become his father's mind and wonder if that was the only way Brian Xavier had found to get rid of it.
But, at that moment, Charles just played along, doing what his father told him and seeing that smile still there, wondering if he hadn't read his father's thoughts wrong after all, considering Brian's wide and warm smile. Something in his mind still remembered that smile as the sign that all was well.
He was wrong.
1962 - Epilogue;
"Don't do this Erik!" Charles screamed, begged, seeing through Erik's eyes as he held the helmet, his head pounding with the strain of keeping Shaw still.
Suddenly, Erik wasn't there anymore, his mind gone from Charles' reach. Something about it seemed to hurt, maybe more than the coin he felt going through Shaw's head like it was going through his own.
Later, after the missiles, after the punches, after the bullet, Charles thought that Erik would stay when he left everything to hold Charles in his arms. All was well when Erik held him, that's what he had learned.
But the helmet never left Erik's head. He was wrong.