--------------------------------------------------------------------- Slightly faintly AU, becuase I got to a point of disgust with Marvel's lack of time-line continuality. So I picked a point I liked and have spring-boarded from it. :) Warnings: Uhm... Hurt. Comfort comes in the next chapter. Musing. Homosexuality, but if you didn't see *THAT* coming you shouldn't be on this list. ;D /.../ stands for thoughts ~....~ Mental images, 'spoken' thoughts. Comments and crits are welcome! Kat Treize no Miko Http://members.dencity.com/Khush/ ~~~~~~~~ Teir 1/? ~~~~~~~~ ~'Why are you going?'~ He'd asked himself that many times, but to hear his own son ask him -- his own flesh and blood, questioning him! -- to hear the thinly veiled accusation in that voice, made him stop and wonder. Truly, why he *was* going? ~"To see if there is truly a chance of the 'peace' others so strongly believe in between humanity and mutants."~ ~"You are a poor liar, father."~ A carded answer, the best reply in his repertoire of old clichés. /Some days I feel as if I read from a script,/ he mused, peering out the window of the air-plane. Far below, he could see the ant-like dots of cars. That meant they'd land soon, and he would have to blend away again. But blending away was only as easy as wearing a long-sleeved shirt and not using his powers. When the powers had first come to him, they had been hard to control. Airplanes would have been out of the question for him in those early days, so boat was how he'd gotten to Israel… And that was how he'd met the man who'd been his greatest friend, and at times, his greatest enemy. /Charles. Would you be proud to see me sitting in a plane filled with Genoshans and humans? Our kind, and those who still fear us. Down there, on the ground, they are as insignificant as the ants they seem to be. Easy to crush or pick off in small groups or one by one. But give them the chance, and they'll swarm and attack, able to kill those stronger than them./ The stewardess paused beside his aisle, casting concerned eyes towards him as he looked away from the window and sat back in his seat, letting out an exhausted sound that brought back the rattling cough. "Are you alright, sir? Do you need water?" From her tone, Magnus knew she simply saw him as an ill old man. /Ill of mind, or of body -- both? Perhaps. Genosha is a haven for mutants, a safe-house to hide in while the world comes to terms. Just like your school, Charles./ "No, but thank you." Thank you? Had her concern for him touched him, somehow? /I'm a weak doddering fool at last, Charles. You'll be pleased to know it./ So many thoughts directed at that man, his friend of old -- and at least a half of them were caught by the sensitive. Once in a while, Magnus would feel a comforting brush of his mind, and savour it. In earlier years, he'd kept his mental walls so high, blocking out all of Xavier's attempts to touch his mind. Now he at least let the man splash through his fortress' moat. Leaning past the sleeping Genoshan who sat beside Magneto, she touched the panel above magneto's head. "This button will put down an oxygen mask for you, sir -- feel free to use it if you have difficulties breathing." "Thank you, again." Banality, because he knew he wouldn’t give in to such weakness. His gaze drifted back to the window, and the young girl went back to serving drinks. Her gentleness, her eyes reminded him so much of his daughter… /My dear child./ Even now, so many years after, it struck a knife to his heart to remember her. /So many lives, cut short…/ /I'm only here to see if it is possible, Charles. To see, for a final time, whose dream is the falsity. And choose the lesser of two evils./ Was that it? Or was it to escape from his self-made haven, to… /To keep from crumbling -- there is something terribly lacking in this life,/ he thought, pressing his hand against the window. /I've no drive./ A terrible thing for a politician or a leader of a country, to loose their drive. To wake up every morning, dreading the day to come and regretting the day that had come before. And he was weak, his powers waxing and waning at will. For the first time since Auschwitz, he was frightened. Erik Magnus Lehnsherr was going to seek out Charles Xavier during the convention in Boston, and see if his old friend would be of any help. /Because, Charles, you are my final hope, as you have ever been. In my darkest hours, I've ever come back to you for your wisdom and aid./ ~~~ Erik was thinking about him again. Charles Xavier always knew when certain people were thinking about him. It was part of who he was, to be so sensitive to certain thoughts that they virtually jumped out at him. But every person had a 'tone', a mental signature to their thoughts. And the desperate outreach towards him was completely familiar to him, though he'd only felt it a few times in recent years. But once, years that seemed an eternity ago, he'd felt it nearly every night. Laying comfortably beneath the sheets of his bed in the Sheraton hotel, Xavier let his mind drift back to that time. Back when he simply knew Magneto was 'different' like he was. In the first days after arrival in Israel, they'd shared a bed and room out of necessity. Erik couldn't afford paying for a room yet, and Charles couldn't pay for two. He couldn't remember how they'd ended up in the same bed the second night, but.. /We did, didn't we? And I never cheated on Gabriel,/ Xavier reminded himself. /No matter how tempting it was…/ Magnus trusted Xavier so much that he actually let his guard down around the man -- not entirely, of course, but let enough walls fall to show Xavier his pain, and let the other man soothe away his nightmares when he could. But some of those nightmares couldn't be soothed by even the gentlest of mental touches -- only by having another in his bed, someone that he didn't associate with the war. That had given him trouble with his wife, Magnus had told Charles. They tried to put the war past them at all times, move on and start anew, but they both bore the physical and mental scars of it and could only cling to each-other for as long as possible. So, in his 'new' life, Magnus clung to nothing, dared not do it, but shared a room with a friend, another 'mutant' that he could trust, and let his guard slip a little. It was more than Charles could have ever hoped he'd get from Erik, the raw sensation of their minds touching and the softer one of body-heat through thin cloth, of those two bodies pressed close even in the heat. /It was strange to live with him, Charles,/ came the chiding reminder, to keep himself from gilding the past. The oddest thing had bee the food -- hidden under a loose floor board, bread wrapped in linen, dried meat under the mattress… He'd been tempted to throw it all out, until he sat himself down and thought it through like a psychiatrist should. Magnus did it out of a fear that he might one day run out of food, or the resources to get it, and wasn't about to let himself starve again. /I wonder if he still does?/ There was a high chance that he might. /And why am I thinking so much about him now? Because I want him here? Yes, I miss his company greatly./ Especially since Lillandra had quietly broken off any relation with him that spanned beyond friendship -- it had hurt, even though they hadn't seen each other in years. They still had access to all that technology, if needed, but… /It was just a pretence for us both -- time to move past that, to…/ There it was, again -- Erik was thinking about him very strongly, something… /If I centre on it too much, he'll know I'm reaching back, so I can't…/ And he was getting closer, steadily… /Coming to the conference. Why?/ No immediate answers to that question, though one drifted languidly through his sleepy mind. /For me./ ~~~ There was something deeply satisfying about watching the mulling crowd that filled the convention centre. Humans and Mutants and Mutates alike, mingling and going from booth to booth, learning information about mutation, listening to key speakers talk about rights, and how to live in a 'human' world, participating in open discussion forums… /It all goes so well,/ Xavier mused as he rested his chin in one palm, arm propped up on the arm of his wheel-chair. The crowd of people that recognised him when he was in view made it simply too much for him to actually be at the booth his 'students' ran. So Xavier remained absconded behind the blue curtain, watching what he could and resting. His voice was already raw from speaking for four hours at a press conference. And the exhaustion came from a fitful sleep -- he'd slept, but the whole night he'd been half-pulled onto the psychic plane by Magneto's powerful mental outreaching. /There must be something terribly wrong with him. At least subconsciously, he's distressed./ Half the times Magnus had been so.. distressed, he'd ended up on Xavier's door-step. The other half he'd ended up in some sort of jail or another. Lazing away the time behind that curtain, he'd tried to reach back only to find nothing. /Which means that he's shielding himself from me, for any number of reasons. He doesn't want me to interfere with whatever he's planning, likely…/ Those thoughts trailed off as he heard a foot-fall behind him, so softly placed. "Enjoying this so much, Charles, that it's impossible to resist the urge to sleep?" A familiar voice, rich in timbre and firmly accented. In his mind's eye, Xavier could see, just from the man's tone, how he was standing, with that certain haughty pose he took on in public. And as he turned his wheelchair to look, he saw that he was very right. Magneto, standing there with his arms crossed. There was a certain air he held himself with, a nobility that only added to his self-imposed aloofness; even dressed down as he was just then, in tan slacks and a pale linen shirt, he still could have been pulled out of a picture book of the nobility of old. Firm, almost military, posture, and a classic muscular form; broad shoulders, narrow waist, and a face that was ageless in it's strength. /Look at him, then look at me -- same age, and yet… so different,/ the wheel-chair bound man mused. Compared to Magneto, he was lowly, at least in form. Magnus, however, saw him quite differently. The essence of sophistication and control, dignity and diplomacy, purified and poured into a mostly healthy, lean body that looked quite nice in the grey suit he wore. /Armani perhaps? Since when are you one to have fashion *taste*, Charles?/ "Quite, Erik -- It's very pleasurable to watch Humanity mingling with Mutants, without incident." /Just what I expect you to say, my friend -- shall we go by the old script, or make a new one?/ He felt it then, the faint tendril trying to brush his shielded mind and failing. /Keep trying. I'll let you in when you hit something right./ "It will never last, Charles; do you really think the humans can last the next two days without tearing down the façade of your ideals?" Quietly voiced, so no others could hear their conversation. "It is very wise of you, however, to keep low-key." The silver-haired head nodded to the simple arm-powered wheel chair, raising a hand to cover a cough. /Sick?/ Xavier didn't think he'd ever seen Magnus sick before, and for some reason, it made him both uneasy and sympathetic. /My old friend…/ "There are so many powers in the area that I didn't wish to risk interference," he spoke evenly, tone faintly amused. "I take it that you are attempting to be 'low-key', also?" "Contrary to the views of you and your 'x-men', I do not live to stir up trouble, Xavier. I simply wish to observe this show -- perhaps it will work. And if it does not, I will be here to aid anyone that I can. So I suppose that I'll be seeing you around, Charles." With the soft rustle of cloth, he turned, gave a passing backwards wave, and walked out of the curtained off area with a smooth gait and Charles watched until he was gone completely before turning back once more to the break in the curtains he watched out from.. The convention was a strained place to have a conversation with his old friend, and Xavier had been put on edge by the heavy mental barriers Magnus was protecting himself with. /What could he be hiding? Or perhaps it's just precaution considering all the mutants that are around. Paranoia, perhaps?/ Magnus had always erred toward the safety paranoia when in a crowd, rather than trust. Minutes later Scott Summer's form entered the little curtained area where Charles was, breaking him once more from a pleasant daze of thought. Casual all the way up to his red-quartz 'sun' glasses. He smiled down at his mentor, and handed him a flat electronic communications pad that was currently on 'hold'. "There's a bit of a stir-up in Genosha right now, Professor, but it shouldn't spread to this function. Magneto just transferred complete control of the government to Voght -- Pytro is willing to support her, and most of the Mutates will, also, so hopefully the hand-off will go smoothly." There was no place lower on Cyclops' 'to go to' list than Genosha, and the idea of having to go there again was… Horrifying. "But there's the question as to *why* Magneto stepped down -- so Hank is looking into it right now." That left him feeling a little obsolete, but Xavier nodded. No need to tell Scott that he'd just talked with Magnus, was there? No. Such information would only put the entire team on edge, and being trigger-happy at the moment would be devastating. He looked down to the communication pad, about to ask who it was, when Scott spoke up, "It's Moira. With her weekly run-down of Legacy Virus cases." "Thank you, Scott. Is the convention winding down for the night yet?" /Less and less people pass by…/ "Yes, sir, it is." "Then I'll come out again as soon as I finish talking to Moira." Respectfully, Scott slipped out again. Xavier turned the 'hold' off, and was instantly greeted with Moira's tired and slightly frustrated expression. "I was on hold for half an' hour, Charles!" That drew a soft laugh from Xavier, as he replied, "I just got a chance to get to your call, Moira, but I'm sorry you had to wait so long." That seemed to relax her, and she laughed herself; around her eyes were the signs of the virus, a certain darkness that made her look older than she was. "Och, It's alright, Charles." There was a pause, as she looked away from the screen, and tapped something into the control panel before her. "There's a swarm a' new cases in Genosha, o' course. Probably ten 'r so more. One in New York -- he's already being sent to Norfolk to be treated. Four in California, and two in England that are all going to report here to Muir. And one in Boston, that's… well, he's a Genoshan. I've been tracking him from there, and he's been in Boston for the past two days, Charlie -- doubt he knows he has it. Probably there f'r the conference. Speaking of that, how's it going?" "Remarkably well, so far," Xavier uttered. "Put a track of the virus victim up, and I'll see if I can find him or her, Moira." She nodded, and turned away to tap a few more things into the computer. "Poor sot, carrying on without knowing what's wrong. Here you go, Charlie." "Thank you again, Moira -- I'll talk to you again later." ~~~~~ It seemed as if every turn he made was blocked by a throng of people, a sea of humanity made up of those fools who were 'protesting' the convention. Every exit brimming with those people, just outside, and police… It had been no trouble for Magnus to unlock a side-door and slip out, locking it behind him. /For the moment my powers work, but for how much longer…?/ That was completely disconcerting to a man such as Magnus, who'd relied on -- and used as a crutch -- those powers that now failed him so often, and alternatively swept out of control. Outside the exit Magnus has slipped out of, there was no crowd -- unlike the main exit, where the crowd, held back by police, was so thick that even the police had trouble pressing their way through. Let alone a Mutant who served as a near world-wide focus for hatred against mutants. /Not that I don't completely deserve it,/ came the mentally sighed thought. What better time to give himself a brow-beating then when he was alone? /What else should I expect of them? Petty wants and fears drive them onward, just as it's driven forward so many before the…/ But he'd known want. Known fear. Known hunger, and pain, and so many other things that no man should ever know to the degree he had. And he knew deprivation from those things, knew how to starve physically and emotionally. /Amelia will keep them safe. She shall keep away their hunger, their fear… Do them all so much better than I can./ And she would, wouldn't she? Amelia had always loved the mutates so very much, she was… the epitome of Charles' dream with the working abilities of his own. Even though he no longer held faith in it himself… Magnus' pace, as he walked, was languid beneath the night's sky. The cool night air was refreshing, a change from the cramped, crowded atmosphere inside the convention. Just to walk, and savour it… A slight squinting of his blue-grey eyes gained him the sight he so treasured to watch -- as yet, it wasn't failing him. The glints and swirls of magnetic fields, bright splashes of colour that made the street-lights look dull was he walked, enjoying the whispering brush of the wind over his face and the display of nature's laws. Even the cough that nagged him wasn't going to make it un-enjoyable. The night itself had been at least a little productive. He'd seen Charles again and promised to himself to have an actual private talk with the man the next day -- but just then, he looked forward to a hot meal to take away some of the chill in his body, and the bed in his hotel-room His room was in the Weston, and wouldn't have taken more than five minutes to walk to through the 'sky bridge' that connected it to the Conference Centre. But the press of people, moving like cattle, was too much for him most times -- he had to get to the open expanse of the outside, had to get space to move again. It was near impossible, at times, for him to stand in lines; after being *part* of the crowd in the convention, walking in those narrow sky bridges would have been unbearable. Would Charles understand why he had to walk through the streets of Boston at midnight, to get to his hotel? /Perhaps. He knows my past…/ Yes. He would, and Magnus knew it, subconsciously at least. The drifting musings of the mutant's mind made him less alert than he was usually, as he walked past a group of perhaps eight teenagers, either un-noticing of them, or uncaring. "Hey, gramps!" The call-out reached his ears, but he didn't react -- no reason to favour them with the pleasure of reacting. He only kept walking past, not picking up his speed. Magnus had no reason to show the fear he shouldn't have had. He'd have never feared the taunting of children before, when his powers worked properly, would they? Genosha was no longer a place that he belonged, with his powers so unstable. /My age, probably,/ came the though as he kept walking, turning a corner that wouldn't take him to his hotel. That would explain the sickness that had plagued him, also. A flu that he couldn't shake, because he simply wasn't strong enough anymore to fight it. Magnus heard those foot-falls follow him around the corner. /That's fine, children -- What do you think you'll do? Rob me?/ He reached out with his power, to pick off them with their own weaponry before they could attack him only to find… /Nothing./ Turning to face the boys, who stood there in a tight knit group, he kept calm, kept feeling for his power, any slight spark of it at all that he might have drawn upon. "What'cha doing out so late at night, gramps?" the 'leader' a young man who in the light of day would have been perfectly normal and unfrightening. "Walking from a whore's house, or coming from that conference back there?" a second one asked, as the little group moved subtly forward, closing in on him. Magnus took a slow step backwards, searching and searching for his power, to no avail. "I haven't any money on me," he murmured smoothly, trying to shove down his accent as much as possible. "So let us not waste each-other's time." "Big talkin' foreigner," the leader murmured, taking a step closer to Magnus, who held his ground. Blue-grey eyes were steady, and he knew he looked calm and haughty. "We're just going to check you for money…" Grabbing Magnus' wrist was his first mistake. His second was holding on when the older man swung him into the wall. Even sick as he was, he still was in healthy shape and knew how to fight in a street fight -- how to fight for his life, and that was just what he faced then. Seven against one now… Until the lead pipe cracked across his skull -- then he was only aware of not having sensed the pipe before it hit him. ~~~~~ "Och, Charles, what took so long?" On the communication unit, Moria looked like she'd just been taking a nap -- give the time it was on Muir Island, she may have been doing just that. /But she's always so willing to be helpful…/ The residuals of a short romance and a lasting friendship. "I had to explain to Cyclops that having the entire team go and find this poor fellow would be devastating." Xavier wheeled his way down the street, following the map that filled half the pad. The street-lights gave enough of a cool glow to see by, to follow the red blip that had started by heading to the Weston, but by the time Charles had actually left the convention, was approaching the Sheraton, where he and the rest of the X-men had their rooms. /Conveinient, at least, that we'll have him close to safety…/ So the person was definitely going to the convention, since all three hotels connected to the centre were booked solid for it. Which also, logically, meant that the person would recognise Xavier and not take him as a threat. At least, he hoped he wouldn't. Xavier had already decided that since he had already have the virus once, and lived, he'd take the mutant in by himself, so that he could keep watch over the victim until the contagiousness of it was eradicated by the proper battery of drugs. "An' then you had ta' remind him that *you* taught *him* and nowt the other way around, right." She wasn't asking, just stating, as she looked onto her own map. "He's been holding steady for five minutes now, Charles. I think he might be in the lobby, lounging…?" "Likely," he agreed, nearing closer and closer to that little red 'blip' on the screen. /I hope he's in the lounge…/ Of course, there was the chance that it was a woman and not a man who was infected with it. But all chances of that plummeted as he turned the corner and saw a battered form laying on the ground. "Sweet god," he murmured softly, taken aback for a moment as he began to pick up familiar mental cries. "I've found him, Moira -- I'll get in contact with you again as soon as I can." Then he turned the pad off, quickly pushing himself close to Magnus' crumpled body. Still alive, thankfully, which Xavier noted as he leaned forward in his chair, trying to uncurl Magnus -- it looked like it had been instinctive to curl up like that, protecting his head, knees and groin from the worst of the blows, while offering his broad back and strong neck to whatever had been used to beat him so hard as to draw bruises that were already blackening. And his mind was wide open to Xavier, so powerfully he was broad-casting out for help. ~I'm going to die here? Of all places, of all ways, dirty and beaten on the streets of Boston…~ "Magnus?" There was traffic on the main street, noisey and fast, but all Charles could hear was the other man's hard breathing, the ragged coughs that left Magnus as he began to uncurl, slowly… The scent of blood swirled in Xavier's nostrils as he felt for any spinal injuries before he let his hands tug further to at least get Magneto to lay out. There was a trickle of blood in the swollen looking mouth… ~Hurts… so much…~ "*Erik*! It's Charles -- work with me for now, old friend…" A feeling of need, strong and powerful, and trust washed over Xavier. ~Charles. Safety…~ "Help," he spoke slowly, voice raw and near useless as he made an attempt to rise from the skin-scraping sidewalk. A groan rattled free of his chest, as he strained to move, until he felt hands that weren't really hands pulling him to his feet; the movements were careful, cautious. Obviously telekinesis, as he was guided to rest against the wheel-chair, the most support lent to those limbs that hurt too much to support themselves. "I'll help you, Erik," Xavier assured, shaken himself by so… all the sudden knowledge. All those pieces suddenly clicked into a startling picture. "I'll take you into the hotel." ~No hospital.~ ~No, Erik, no hospital.~ The walls of Magnus's mind threatened to rise up for a moment, but his concentration was too low to manage it -- instead, Xavier simply extended his own mental shields to his old friend. ~Don't leave me here, Charles, don't…~ "I won't," he assured shakily as he started to wheel forward, toward the back entrance of the hotel, giving enough support to Magnus to make him look like he was walking. He wouldn't leave his friend there, no matter what things Magnus had done in the past… But he didn't know what he would do in the long run. /Strange, to think of there being a 'long run' for this…/ ~~~~~~ _______________________________________________ Why pay for something you could get for free? NetZero provides FREE Internet Access and Email http://www.netzero.net/download/index.html To unsubscribe from this group, send an email to: XavierMagnetoSlash-unsubscribe@egroups.com --------------------------------------------------------------------- Slightly AU, because I reached a point of disgust with Marvel's lack of time-line continuality. So I picked a point I liked and have spring-boarded from it. :) Warnings: Uhm... Comfort. Musings. Homosexuality between the good Professor and the Master of Magnetism. Fairly pg-13. ^_~ /.../ stands for thoughts ~....~ Mental images, 'spoken' thoughts. C&C is welcome... ^_^;;; Kat ~~~~~~~~ Teir 2/? ~~~~~~~~ ~Smoke, thick and acrid, black as the eyes of the polish Kapo who loomed so nearby…~ He was coughing again, violently; bits of blood came free with every choking noise from his throat, until something warm wiped tenderly over his mouth and nose, wiping away that blood. ~Prying open the mouths of still cold bodies, bloodied fingers digging and wrenching free gold teeth. How many had he pulled free in the past day? Had he filled that basket himself? Hard to tell if it was worse than putting those bodies into the stifling furnaces, breathing that smoke.~ "Erik… Oh, Erik." ~"Sonderkommando!" someone jeered at him, as he trudged past them in the biting air, red-cross blanket wrapped tightly around his nearly bared body. A soldier offered him dried meat and a piece of chocolate that was as big as his fist. It was already becoming obvious to those Soviet soldiers who liberated them that they would not be sharing the food with other survivors -- what was handed to them was *theirs*, and not shared. Erik's stomach turned away the meat that he'd eaten too fast, but the chocolate miraculously stayed in his complaining body.~ Light movement of cloth over skin, his shirt being opened and removed, pulled out from under him with hands that were deceivingly strong. "Ah." A soft creaking noise, as his care-taker wheeled off to find butterfly bandages. ~Silver grey hair. He'd had a thick mane of brown-black before they'd shaved it, and it had grown back in the colour of dirtied silver. The kapo called him Silberne Krähe -- silver crow. When he'd first arrived, he'd been recognised quickly as a good candidate for being one of the 'Crematorium Ravens'. He'd hung on, through countless liquidations, bartered and bribed his way for warmer clothes in winter, information about where to stand in the roll line to not be killed. Food was all important, a driving force to keeping those ovens working well, to smiling and being as orderly as possible when they emptied the trains…~ ~No one wanted anything to do with him, a Sonderkommando, and the silence was good and useful, but also let the pain and horror swirl in his mind…~ Once well-polished shoes, now scuffed from concrete, were removed, lithe hands lingering at well-muscled ankles a moment before they disappeared. He'd never approved of being touched without permission, but there was an… urging at the back of his mind to relax. Let it go. ~Waking up from dreams of those long months, waking up in Israel in the arms of a man just barely younger than he was, hearing soothing words and a gentle mental litany of safety. Comfort and assurance. The languid stirring of clean, humid air, Charles' breath against his mane of hair as he laid back down, the adrenaline of the nightmare leaving his body…~ The cloth was back again, wiping his chest, a gash on his thigh that had been revealed with the removal of his pants. The cool air in the room gave his body a racking chill worse than the night air had, and he coughed again, surfacing slowly from the collage of thoughts, half- dreams and recollections. "Erik…" Charles' tone was softly wheedling, a hidden plea in that firm, powerful voice. The cool cloth was laid on his forehead at last, and left there. ~How are you now?~ Gently nudging at his mind, just like the urge to 'let it be' and relax there, on the bed he wasn't familiar with. ~Hospital?~ Blearily questioned, hating to ask it, hating more to find out the answer -- had he been listened to, or 'ignored for his own good' as Charles so often had done. /Always crushing the dissident views if you can, to stop contrast with yours -- smothering in a blanket of 'help'…/ And yet that was just what he'd cried out for as the blows landed with rough thuds on his body, and even after. For Charles' help… "My hotel room, Magnus -- no doctor, no hospital," Charles whispered, surveying the beating his friend had taken . He'd already seen that his back, from knees to neck, was a near solid bruise. The biggest worry had been Magnus' kidneys, but they were thankfully intact, and there was no internal bleeding. /Just horrible bruising down to his ribs. He'll be in pain, but there's nothing I can do for it aside from aspirin…/ "How do you feel?" Silence for a moment, then it was broken by another short cough. "You always ask… such inane questions, Charles," he spoke, the raw voice sounding tired, drifting -- semi-conscious at best. "You know the answer." Blue-grey eyes opened at a pressure against the top of his upper leg, and he mused for a moment that for a person as disabled as Xavier was, he did a clean job of removing his clothing. /Stripped right down to my briefs -- what would your students think, Charles?/ ~That I've lost my mind, Erik -- un-tense your legs so I can put butterflies on this cut.~ Magnus' thought had been right *there* and so un-shielded that it had been impossible for him to not hear it -- more-so to not give in to the temptation to answer. Silence fell again, then a push of ~Get out of my mind, Charles.~ Not a request from the mutant who was laid out on the bed -- an order. "No, Magnus," Xavier murmured evenly to his old friend. "Because you know that I am not in your mind. You know some thoughts rise above even *your* mental shielding." The hazy gaze watched Charles put the butterflies in place, then watched him apply gentle pressure atop it. If he spoke any of the thousand indignant words on the tip of his tongue, they would only end up falling into the same tightly scripted rolls that had consumed them for so long. This was careful ground for both of them -- crossed so often that it was nary impossible to not step into the pit-falls of the road, familiar and oft-used as they were. So many things that went unsaid, that were just understood to *be*. Erik wanted to ask just how much of his 'surface' thoughts Charles could see just then -- and how many he liked the sight of. But it didn't happen, as he let the silence grow into something comfortable, grey-tinted eyes closing again as Charles' hands stroked over his bruised skin with the pretence of inspecting him for further injuries. Did Xavier really think Magnus was so stupid as to not see the touches for what they were? Or, perhaps, it was just hope. /How low, to do this,/ he mused, feeling slowly over the other man's firm stomach, then up, letting one hand 'accidentally' brush a nipple. There was a fine line between subtlety to coax out a reluctant man, and being an ass, and he was dancing that line in a way he'd not danced it in years. /Last time was with Gabrielle./ "Tell me where you hurt, Erik," he murmured slowly, letting his gaze drift carefully over the very well-muscled frame. ~You know I want to help you, friend.~ ~Do I, Charles?~ What could he reply to that? Xavier let his hand rest atop Magnus' abdomen, feeling the soft rise and fall of breath that was slightly hindered. /The virus -- how far along could he be?/ The coughing would only be worsened by the bruised ribs, something that Magnus would notice not long after he sat up. /Moira has stabilising medications that could hold him at this current stage for months… perhaps years./ Could Magnus handle being trapped in that intermediate state… /The question. Will he let his pride fall long enough to admit to needing help?/ The lack of reply made a bitter little smile curl Magnus' lips, until he heard it -- the echo of his thoughts during the moments Xavier had come across him. That the man was safety, that he'd help… Help was why he'd come to the convention, and being able to face his many faults had led him to hand Genosha off to Voght. The Dream -- his dream -- was in the hands of others, and he served for nothing more than a figure head of fear any longer. Xavier at least had those who looked up to him from respect and not fright. /Once, Charles, I tried to be teacher and more to those children, and failed horribly. Young lives were lost, ruined…/ "Then help me, Charles." The words startled Xavier a little, but not enough to change his expression of calm. The coughs that followed did change that expression, as he moved his chair in as close as he could, trying to ease Magneto's discomfort as the pale face contorted with pain. "Steady, Erik," he whispered. "Breath slowly. Your ribs are bruised... How long have you had that cough?" It trailed into nothingness as Charles lifted the cloth from Magnus' noble brow, wiping the corners of his mouth with it again before setting it in the bowl once more. "More than a week. What..." He started to ask 'What do you think it is?' but didn't -- Charles *knew*, as he always seemed to know. ~Tell me.~ ~You have the Legacy Virus, Erik.~ Though the other man's mental voice had been gentle, there was no way to tell someone such a thing gently enough -- even though it was what he'd suspected, in the back of his mind, that it was. Suddenly, everything that had been happening made perfect sense to him and he felt like a fool for not seeing it. Fluctuations in power, going from spikes of heightened power to drops where there was nothing but the sight of it, nothing but a faint hum to signal the fields that surrounded him. Legacy *was* a death sentence. /Finally, a death sentence that even I cannot escape.../ Auschwitz, the Russians, his daughter's death, so many brushes with death itself during battles, all voided out by two simple words. "I…. Suspected," Magnus murmured quietly, letting his eyes close. What a horrible way to die, after all that he'd done in life… /Give him time to think, Charles,/ Xavier chided himself lightly, as he sat back in his chair, one hand lingering atop the back of Magnus' wrist. Though the more active part of his mind was screaming at him to not sit back and watch Magneto withdraw into himself, back behind the mask he wore as often as he wore his helmet. "You want help, Erik," Charles pressed. So very few could get away with using Magnus' first name as often as he did. "And I will not turn you away, old friend." Without waiting for a reply, Xavier turned his chair away from the bed, wheeling toward the small 'living room' the suite held. ~Do not go, Charles,~ Magnus reached out with his mind, starting to sit up even against the pain. "Rest," Xavier intoned, still moving off, and out of sight around a corner. ~Do not protest my offer, Erik; I wish to help, and you want my help. Let me do what I can.~ /To make these next however many months you have left rewarding for you,/ he mused as he poured a glass of water into a plastic hotel cup, then added a few chips of ice. "No, Charles, this will not work unless--" Already re-entering the room with cup in hand, Charles smoothly cut him off, "Tell me, Erik, what is the 'this' that will not work?" /Could it be that we are both playing the same games with each other?/ /You know, damn you, you *know*,/ Magnus thought as he laid back down, disliking entirely the feeling of being at Charles' mercy, but savouring the sheer assurance that surrounded him, no matter how vulnerable he was then. The vulnerability would follow him were he to leave Xavier's room, were he to go to his hotel and room, were he to go back to Genosha… It was a part of him that could not be denied any longer. The question that had been asked of him went unanswered as the water was given to him, taken into his mouth and swallowed. Cool liquid that soothed his throat and mouth just as much as Charles could soothe his mind. /Ice for a wound -- what a curious way to think of you,/ he mused, letting his head drop back onto the pillow as the glass was drawn back. Was Xavier reading him just then? /And does it matter at all? We have been friends, companions, fellow philosophers and deadly enemies, Charles. You have healed and broken me as many times as I have done the same to you and yours. I tear apart one of your own, you shatter my mind -- fair-play as always, Charles. You speak of peace, but do not hesitate to lash out in all your stubbornness... We are not so different, you and I./ "You turned away from Genosha, Magnus -- you exiled yourself by stepping down. Would you spend your final days in terrorism?" "Would *you* spend my final days scrubbing my mind clean?" The bitter urge to ask 'again' rose up, loud in his mind before it was pushed back. Now it was Xavier's time for silence, having felt the sting of the un- meaning and unspoken blow, however right it had been. Ideally, he would have been able to change Magneto… /Not all ideals are meant to be./ And the last time those thoughts had occurred to him had been years before. There had been hope that it had been done for him, in Joseph, but he had *not* been Erik Magnus Lehnsherr. His memories and views, painful and haunting as they may be, were what made him, and without those memories and views, he was not the same man. "Your ideals, Erik, are out of your hands," Xavier murmured as he set the glass on the low table beside the bed. "And mine may as well be." ~Still the figurehead~ A drifting thought, clear and half-projected from Magnus. "It will be a challenge, as much as anything either of us partakes alone would be. But the team had adjusted to Joseph when they thought he was you, Erik, and will adjust again." A glance to the clock on that table told him that he had a full four hours before he'd be expected to go to the convention the next morning. /Three am. Have we talked for so long?/ Watching the bruised face in the light glow of the lamp in the corner, Xavier saw Magnus' lips part to speak before words even came. And he'd promptly cut them off. "No, my old friend. No protesting me this time. Not yet. You are injured and ill, and currently under my care. If you will not let me take you to a physician, you will at least rest for me." Those blue-grey eyes slitted open just the barest bit, peering at the man beside the bed with a careful gaze. ~Why are you putting so much effort *now*, Charles?~ ~I could ask the same of you -- would you rather that I didn't?~ The complete lack of any reply from Magnus was answer enough, coming from that stubborn pride. Xavier wheeled over to the light, flicked it off. "How much pain are you in right now?" "Less than before," he answered cryptically, closing his eyes again in the darkness. Every movement beyond necessaries caused pain -- even breathing hurt on occasion. /You didn't ask how it happened, Charles -- how unlike you, to not want every detail. Could you feel what happened, through my out-reaching?/ Looking back on it, what he could remember, he'd nearly begged Charles to help him, to not leave him… And he'd done it once again, with most of his faculties working. /So hard to not follow the familiar road… so very hard…/ "You need your sleep," Charles murmured. The sounds of shifting cloth could be heard, a shifting body, then hands on metal -- a familiar hymn to his ears, the buzz of steel -- and finally, he felt the weight on the bed shift. Yes, Xavier was deceptively strong of body. And just as strong of mind... There was a familiarity to it and yet a strangeness. The last time they'd lain in bed together, Xavier had two working legs, and he'd not just been beaten to a pulp. As Xavier moved closer still until he laid on his side, pressed against Magnus, the polish mutant felt a gentle tendril probe into his mind. ~Charles…~ A returning warning, as a hand rested lightly atop his chest, rubbing carefully through the coarse hair there, matching the colour of Magnus' hair. ~You need a peaceful sleep -- let me, Erik. I will press no farther than you wish me to.~ The slow, steady stroking of those fingers over his chest, tracing the line between his muscles was certainly relaxing. What Magnus conveyed next was not a word -- but a feeling. Trust of the other man, as complete as he'd ever given over to another being. The tendril pushed in further, but not too far, and Xavier's hand kept moving, the motion soothing and hypnotic; combined with the soft whispers he heard in his mind and the steady flow of images and feelings from better days… Magnus fell into a deep sleep, and no nightmares tugged at his mind for the first time in nearly three decades. ~~~~~ "Ah jest wonder wher he could *be*," Samuel Guthrie uttered, sitting back in his chair at the table. At six-thirty, sharp, everyone was supposed to have been down in the hotel's café, sitting at the back table, for breakfast and the pre- convention plans for the day. "Ah know ah've not been with ya'll very long, but it just ain't like him to be so late, is it?" It was Seven already. /Half an hour late!/ The most recent member of the team looked around the table at the other X-men who'd come up for the conference. Scott and Jean, himself, Logan, Rogue and Gambit. The Professor should have been there, but he wasn't and that was worrisome… And it seemed to be worrisome, at least a little, to the rest of the table, too. "So Chuck slept in," Logan muttered, lighting up his second unfiltered lung-killer. Not that it mattered at all to a man who regenerated so quickly. Sam's gaze soon found one that was doing as much scanning as his own was -- Scott's eyes, hidden behind quartz lenses. /I'm not the leader -- I shouldn't have said anything…/ "I think we should at least check on him," Cyclops murmured, getting up out of his chair. "Jean…?" "I've already found him," she murmured. "He's still in his room…" ~~~~~ Awakened with a tug at his mind, from the restive sleep he'd shared with a man most would consider his greatest enemy. Sitting more up-right than he'd been before, he managed to look at the bed-side clock. 7:05. /Letting me sleep in?/ he wondered as he did sit up, truly unwilling to move away from the warmth that was Magnus' side. But it was best that he arise before the other man re-gained consciousness. It was hard, looking back at the night before, to tell how much of what had passed between them would be valid when faced with day-light. ~Professor?~ It was Jean's mental voice, reaching out to him, trying to make the familiar contact with him on the astral plane -- something he would not allow just then. ~Good morning Jean,~ he replied, trying to keep it short and to the point. Less time for her to question him, less possibility of them knowing anymore than the absolute minimum. ~There is a change of plans today, entirely unexpected. I won't be joining you at the convention today.~ /What else was there…?/ Dinner. With the mayor and quite a few other high-ranking city politicians… /No backing out of that./ ~But I will see you at dinner, Jean.~ ~What should I tell the others, Professor?~ she asked, obviously distressed by what he was telling her. ~Tell them that I've found Magneto~ And with that, the connection was blocked by Xavier. It was, in his own memory, one of the few times he'd ever broken a connection so abruptly. /Jean will worry,/ he noted to himself as he decided to settle down again in the sheets. /I'm completely indecisive as to what to do next with him… this./ 'This' was the need to have the other man stay with him; 'this' was an undeniable attraction that both of them felt, but neither had spoken of; 'this' was dangerous, fool-hardy, asinine… So many things, but 'this' still was. Hanging in the air between them as surely as Erik laid beside him in bed. What he'd done the night before, was still doing, had solved one problem, in an unspoken way, but created hundreds more. How far was Magnus willing to let it go? How far could *he* let it go…? /There are better things to do than brood on it…/ His hand was resting atop that bruised, sturdy chest once more, and he pulled back the sheets a little to study his old friend. Sometime in his sleep, his right arm had lifted and was now folded so that Xavier could read numbers of the tattoo. /To become just a number… and this is the fear that has driven you for so long -- that mutants will someday face the same fate as the Jews did. Perhaps it is possible -- we are already herded out of some areas and into others… Small scale Pogroms./ But there was no way or argument that would convince Magnus that there were other ways to 'protect' the mutant species. Pulling those sheets up again, Charles laid his hand on Magnus' body again, feeling the steady pulse and the even rising and falling of his breaths. "Erik." Voice soft, subdued as he added a faint press with his hand. The silver-capped head shook for a moment, the protest of those who are tired but too close to consciousness to slip back under. "Erik…" What he did next was simply following a whim. Bending the little bit required to press a faint kiss to un-moving lips, then drawing back. "Ah, Erik…" "Nnn." A softly pained protest, and he coughed raggedly, as he'd done for much of the night, as he started to sit up. ~Lay back, Erik, and keep resting,~ came the gentle instruction within his mind, along with the return of that familiar stroking against his chest. ~Your students, Charles…~ A drifting thought from Magnus' tired and un-protesting mind. ~You should…~ "I've already told them I will not be at the conference today, Erik." ~Would you rather that I left?~ Xavier was startled when Magnus moved one hand, grasping his fore- arm. ~Safety, Charles. You are… safety.~ Even more startling was the cool grey-blue eyes slitted barely open, looking at him. There was no way to out-manoeuvre that piercing gaze, no way he could think of to change the subject and avoid it as they'd done the night before. "Will you come with me to the mansion?" ~We'll use whatever pretence you wish, Erik. I want to give you all the help that I can.~ Was it possible that at long last they were deviating from the known paths? /Let it be so, Charles…/ The thick, dragging cough came back then, when he wanted to speak a reply to the other man, and with it the fierce pain in his chest. Getting quickly out of the bed and into his wheel-chair -- entirely glad he'd slept with his trousers still on from the night before -- Xavier was soon on the other side of the bed, with another glass of water to try to get down the other man's protesting throat. Thankfully the bed was set low, like most everything else in the 'wheel-chair accessible' room. "Steady, Erik. Drink a little slower." When he was sure that Magnus wasn't going to cough himself to pieces just then, he drew back the glass and helped him sit up, the pillows propped up behind his badly beaten back. Just helping him sit up, Xavier could see the black-red marks on that warm-coloured skin. "Thank you," came Magnus' ragged reply at last, eyes open again. ~I would like to go with you, Charles.~ Letting his mouth curl into a smile, Xavier nodded. "Thank *you*, my friend." To unsubscribe from this group, send an email to: XavierMagnetoSlash-unsubscribe@egroups.com -------------------------- eGroups Sponsor -------------------------~-~> eGroups eLerts It's Easy. It's Fun. Best of All, it's Free! http://click.egroups.com/1/9698/0/_/_/_/972551959/ ---------------------------------------------------------------------_-> I've returned, after a burnt-out computer and the hells of real-life, bearing fan-fiction. Hopefully I'll had move chapters of the 'Loyalties' series written soon. :> Slightly AU, because I reached a point of disgust with Marvel's lack of time-line continuality. So I picked a point I liked and have spring-boarded from it. :) Warnings: Uhm... Comfort. Musings. Homosexuality between the good Professor and the Master of Magnetism. Fairly pg-13. ^_~ Archive: Yes, please. Just drop me a note if it's not one of the lists' archives. Note: Pervious chapters can be found here: http://members.dencity.com/Khush/xm.html /.../ stands for thoughts ~....~ Mental images, 'spoken' thoughts. C&C is welcome... ^_^;;; Kat ~~~~~~~~ Teir 3/? ~~~~~~~~ /Ah don't know why *Ah* got chosen.../ The *rest* of the team was going to catch lunch in the convention centre -- and they'd agreed, unanimously except for Sam, that he'd be the one to go and see that the professor was all right. Bodily, as well as mentally, if Magneto was concerned. That brought up a multitude of problems, knowing that Magneto wasn't just his ex-teacher and often enemy that was happily running Genosha off on his little island without humans that had a running infestation of Legacy Virus... That's what they all suspected was wrong, though there was no confirmation because the Professor had just been 'snappy' with Jean that morning. Her word for it, and it certainly fit given her shocked expression when the professor had cut contact with her. So there was a good chance that the professor was going to take the threat in under his wing, as he'd done nearly every time before that Magneto had been hurt. /And the second Magneto gets better -- wham, he stabs the Professor in the back and goes back to his old ways. Or turns traitor on his team in battle, or.../ But Samuel Guthrie couldn't bring himself to hate the man who'd once taught them -- they'd argued, been all over the place as New Mutants... Being under his leadership had been a lot like being lead by Cable, in the early years of Cable leading them. But there was a part of him that blamed Magneto for Doug's death, and that part wouldn't quiet down. /Ah have to wonder why the Professor keeps fallin' for his lies,/ Cannonball thought to himself, as he stopped in the sky-way, looking down through the glass to the streets far below. The slow creep of cars, people criss-crossing the sidewalks and streets to get to work, and shop. Times like this, he missed the freedom of being able to fly... /Two more days, and we'll be back in Westchester./ Would it be like having Joseph there? Magneto's clone had been... tolerable after a few days, so unlike the twisted, head-strong man that he'd been cloned *from*. He had the look and powers, but not much else. /Not even the 'Look',/ he reminded himself as he started to walk again. Nothing could imitate or clone the anger and sorrow that *were* Magneto's eyes. Color didn't matter -- it was the thin lines around them, the dragging gaze. Just like no-one could ever clone the Professor's patient, steady expression. /Maybe we'll all get used to him. Like we did Joseph. But we've got to be ready to protect the professor at any time, because Magneto could turn back to his old self at any time./ Lifting one hand to knock lightly on the door, Sam cleared his throat. "Professor?" For a long moment, there was no answer; but then the door opened and the professor was there in his chair, looking for all the world as if he'd only just awakened. And he was wearing the same clothes he'd worn the night before. /Maybe he just *has*. Late night? I bet they argued all night./ "Hello, Samuel. I take it you've been sent to check on me," was the quiet evenly spoken greeting. Looking like a wolf caught among the lambs, Sam raised a hand to rub sheepishly at the back of his neck. "Yeah. Ah'm here ta see if you're okay, and if ya want lunch brought up, or... need company." /Or protection./ "Ever'body's a little worried." Xavier's hands folded calmly in his lap as he looked up at the young man with a knowing gaze. "Lunch sounds nice, Samuel. Bring enough for two -- there's no need to worry." The hand kept rubbing, nervous now. /You say that, Professor, but do you mean it? Last we knew, you gutted his mind./ So maybe... maybe he'd done it again? "Ah know, Ah know..." He sighed, stepping back. "Is it really him this time, Professor? It's not like Joseph?" /Is that why you took Joseph in? Guilt over what you did to Magneto? After what he did to Cable, then Wolverine, he had it coming to him, but from *you*?/ For a moment, blue eyes shifted focus, glancing back into the room. "Yes. It's really him." /God. He seems happy about that.../ Shaking his head again, Samuel stepped away from the door "Ah'll be back in a few minutes, Sir. Anything in particular ya'd like me ta get ya?" "Something without milk," was the answer as the door half-shut. "Something *good*," Charles instructed further as he allowed the lock to click. "Without milk...?" Sam asked himself aloud. "Ah'm not even goin' ta *ask*." ~~~~~ There had been some worry, very faint, when Xavier had gone to get the door. There was a completely irrational fear that Charles would simply disappear the moment he left Magnus's sight. And by the time Xavier had come back, Magnus was coughing again, reaching for the glass of water that rested on the low table beside the low bed. As he drank slowly from it, watching his old friend wheel into the room, he questioned, ~One of your students?~ "Samuel," Xavier answered aloud, moving close to that side of the bed to watch the other man. It hurt him to look at that bruised face, physical proof of the impossibility of his Dream. "My other students sent him to fetch lunch for us." Setting the glass down, Magnus let himself relax back against the pillows he was propped up with. /Sent him to fetch lunch for you, you mean, Charles./ He'd stayed dressed as he'd spent the night before -- stripped down to his briefs, partly because it was convenient just then, partly because his suitcase was in his hotel room, while the clothes he'd been wearing had been moderately destroyed by the beating he'd taken. "Lunch, or to make sure I'd not killed you yet?" came the slowly spoken question, more bitter than amused. "A little of both." There was no point in lying, and so Charles didn't. /They don't trust you. I can only trust you when you prove yourself to be sane.../ Which he was just then -- so very rational, calm and cautious. Carrying the familiar core of desperation and anger, that he'd tried to destroy once. "They'll accustom themselves, Erik." "Hopefully they'll be well accustomed to me by the time I die," he mused, tone softly sardonic as he picked up the glass of water again, to preempt more coughing. Going back to sleep had helped him feel more rested, but hadn't done much for the pain in his chest from his ribs. ~We've both gone mad, you know. We have to have.~ ~Perhaps we have.~ That answer was slow, almost delicate in its precision and obvious thoughtfulness. ~If we have, though, is it really so terrible, then?~ ~Perhaps it is,~ he replied, letting his eyes shut before he spoke further, "I have nothing more to loose in this, Charles." /Pietro will hate me no matter what it is that I do, and I've given him every reason to. Genosha is no longer mine -- the weak do not belong atop its leadership. I can no longer pull together the opposing forces in Genosha. *My* dream is out of my hands and into those of others./ "Whatever choice I make, my end result will be the same. You cannot make the same claim. Whatever you decide will--" Cutting Magnus off was an action familiar to Charles, "My choice is simply that, my friend. *MY* choice." A hand reached out, laying lightly against that crisply haired chest momentarily as Charles looked at him quite seriously. ~And my choice... is you.~ ~Your dream has always come first, Charles, and do not lie and tell me it will not be so *again*. Do you not fear coming down with Legacy from me? It would end your dream more effectively than any attack I could have ever managed.~ Beneath that hand, the firm muscle rose and fell steadily, giving away only slight proof of trouble breathing. Magnus's eyes opened to look at the other man, steel-blue gaze meeting pale blue. There: the spark he'd always felt, the fission of passions colliding. "Do I look afraid to you?" Charles asked him, his own deep blue eyes boring into Magnus's. "Tell me, Erik. Do I look afraid to you? We all have to die, one day." A saddened expression touched Magnus's face, as his mind sank back into old memories. He could almost hear it, real and there again, the screams of agony from the other side of the doors to the Showers. /Yes, Charles, we *do* all have to die someday -- but there are deaths that should not be. You dying of Legacy.../ Part of him, some twisted subconscious part of him, had rather thought that they were invincible, and that nothing could ever truly destroy either of them. "Sometimes it isn't the right time." The hand on his chest drifted up to touch his face gently, tracing the out lines of bruises as Xavier looked at him. "I will not regret anything, Erik." Those fingers were gratefully light against his bruised jaw, as silver-blue eyes slitted, half-open in thought. /So he says, but whether it is truth or not.../ "Your students, Charles." ~How will you explain this to them? Or shall we relive Israel again -- hiding even the slight transgression we made of sharing a bed, though we did nothing else?~ ~I will explain it to them one step at a time. They're all adults, Erik. This time will be different. I'll make it so.~ Those eyes swept carefully over Charles's face, slowly, as if he searched for the slightest hint of a lie, before he gave a very slight nod. /With us both trying, it will work.../ It had to work, but Magnus wasn't going to even admit that in thought. He simply let his eyes fall closed as he turned his head, pressing a very soft kiss against Xavier's palm. ~I will trust you, Charles.~ ~Rest a while longer,~ Xavier admonished gently, that palm stroking over a cheek. ~Lunch will be here soon.~ Magnus was already nodding off, with only a slight cough rumbling within his chest, when the knock came again at the door. "Professor? Ah've got lunch for ya, sir!" With a sigh, Xavier pulled away and wheeled his chair moving towards the door, opening it to allow his young student into the room. "Come in, Samuel. Be a bit quiet... Magnus is resting." The young man was carrying a white box, from the hotel's café. "All right. Ah brought up sandwiches for ya." /Resting? Why's he resting? It usually takes a mack truck to put a dent in him.../ "What's wrong with him, Professor?" "An attack last evening, Samuel." /Best, perhaps, not to let them know about the virus yet./ "Thank you for the sandwiches." /An *attack*? There was a fight, and the prof didn't even.../ Nervously shifting his weight from foot to foot slowly, Samuel only drew back a little. "Ya're welcome, sir. How are ya...? Need anythin' else? Scott wanted me to remind ya about the dinner tonight with the mayor and city manager." "I won't forget," Charles told Samuel firmly, "and I won't be needing anything else. You can take yourself back to the conference, Samuel. It will be all right." /They're so protective of me. They forget that no matter how much I love all of them, I am still an independent man./ The newest X-man worked his jaw a little, eyes narrowing only slightly. /I hope so!/ "All right, sir. If anythang happens, Professor, ya contact Jean, all right?" The urge to agree to 'call mommy' was strong, but Charles resisted. Somehow. "Of course, Samuel. Everything will be fine. Run along, now." "Ah..." Sam was shaking his head as he stepped back. /Of course it sounded like I was patronizing him.../ That was the last thing he'd wanted to seem like he was doing, but he was worried about what Magneto could do, no matter *what* his state. "Ah hope ya know what ya're doin', Professor." "I know what I'm doing," was the quiet reassurance. "It will be all right." "Yes, sir," Samuel murmured. /At least he won't bring Magneto down to dinner - god, Rogue would throw a *fit*./ "G'afternoon, sir!" he managed, smiling just a little as he stepped towards the door, and out. Rolling his eyes as the door shut, Charles sent his chair closer to the low laying cabinet which held the television and opened a draw to pull out a tray to settle lunch on. When he re-entered the bedroom, Magnus was dozing lightly once more, sleeping in a place between dreaming and wakefulness. No dreams haunted him there, and if any sudden noises were made, he'd be awake. Charles's voice was soft as he moved close to the bed, saying quietly, "Erik. Our lunch has arrived." The silver-maned head lifted a little tiredly, and he cleared his throat for a moment before saying, "I had thought I heard Samuel's voice -- has he been promoted from the little upstart X-force?" "That 'little upstart' is now the youngest member of the X-Men, old friend," Charles informed him blandly. ~It was not an insult, Charles,~ Magnus chided mentally. ~I remember Samuel well enough from teaching him.~ "I was wondering when someone would notice his skills for what they are," he mused, sitting up just slightly. "It was really only a matter of time," was the answer, the tray moved to balance lightly on Magnus's lap. "Samuel is quite competent and his talents are of benefit to us." "I am sure that they are," he murmured slowly, looking not at the tray but the other man, with those cool eyes. /I was right. His students are something he will always defend, no matter what. But have I not done the same time and time again, myself...?/ So much to think of, so much past to clear up before anything would *truly* work. /And everything still remains unsaid./ Except that Charles wished him to stay, and that he wanted to do the same. There had been the kiss that morning, so faint while he'd dozed that he barely remembered it, and the hand so often touching his chest. But nothing clear -- all unspoken. There was so much left open to interpret, so much he could take the wrong way. "Would you like it if I did it again?" The remark was surprising as Xavier's hand rose, once again touching him lightly. "I'm sorry, but that was very loud, Erik." "I forget sometimes that you can do that," he mused quietly, eyes calm on the other man as he stayed still. ~Would you?~ It was with some care that Xavier leaned forward, hand moving over Magnus's shoulder to cup the back of his neck with strong grip, careful of the bruises that were lower on his body. As he leaned, he pulled Magnus to him slightly, capturing lips so softly that for a moment, it seemed as if the kiss was not even there before it deepened and a sheer ravenousness rose into it, hungry and wanting. To finally give in to the spark that had been there, kindled and waiting, between them since Israel, was heaven itself. A hand lifted, curling at the back of Charles's neck as Magnus leaned more forward so better contact could be made. Unfamiliar territory, but he'd had a few male lovers over the years, and it was no different from that. Except that he wanted Charles more than he'd wanted anything in years. Needed him, just as surely as he'd needed Anya to live all those years ago and had failed. Pressing his sudden upper-hand, he traced the edge of his old friend's lips with his tongue, seeking further entry. Those lips parted willingly, but it was Charles who took control of the kiss, his teeth nipping at the other man's lower lip, tongue tracing the line of his teeth before moving farther inside to meet and greet Magnus's, a lovely struggle ensuing. /Should have done this years ago,/ he thought passingly as he pressed further, closer, trying to re-gain his advantage and enjoying losing it all the same. He hadn't thought, really, that Charles would be so good at it, though there had to have been a reason why he'd attracted so many women to his side over the years. A quiet chuckle broke the moment as Charles gave him several more pulling, lingering kisses. "I've always wanted to kiss you that way," the husky murmur declared. Gabrielle had been too shaky to ever give such a kiss, and most of the women he'd ever kissed had expected him to do everything, barely participating. "We're both fools," Magnus murmured thickly, leaning in to take another kiss before his ribs started to hurt him again. "Fools," Charles agreed, catching that last hungry kiss before he gently pushed Magnus into settling back. "Rest. It would be more delightful to take advantage of you were you not bruised head to toe. We've waited long years; I can wait a few more days." A soft, wolfish laugh left Magnus as he leaned back against the pillows again and tried to keep from coughing. It was decidedly good, the lightness of heart that kiss had left him with. /Haven't felt anything like that since Magda,/ he mused. His young wife had loved him until he'd wiped out the village in anger for not getting help to save their daughter -- then she'd turned on him. There was no chance of another mutant doing that to him. At least, not for the same reasons. "So," Charles told him, lifting his own sandwich. "Eat your lunch, Erik, and drink whatever it is Samuel has brought us. I'll be taking advantage of you soon enough and you'll want your strength." One eye-brow rose in faint amusement as he ripped off a piece and lifted it to eat. "You're always so over-confident." "Sometimes the appearance of confidence can win the most difficult of battles," he was assured airily as Charles took a bite out of his own. ~I can name a few that we've both lost because that was all it was -- an appearance,~ Magnus pointed out, eating more. Little arguments and intellectual sniping had always been enjoyable with Xavier; a mental equal, one of the few he could theorize with. "Very true, old friend," Xavier sighed, watching him eat. /Such a pessimistic realist. He considers any endeavor doomed before it begins./ "Very true; but this is a new day and a different sort of battle, and one I want to win," he teased, smiling. "You've never been one for fighting battles," he reminded. The only one Magnus could immediately remember had been with the shadow king, and look what had happened. /Crippled,/ he thought with a sigh. Not that it made any difference to him. The attraction was still there, no matter how confined Xavier was. "True, but some things one simply has to do for oneself," Charles told him. "After all, I can't imagine sending Jean or Samuel to win this particular battle. I'd be quite displeased if it was anyone but me." ~As would I,~ Magnus replied with a very faint smile -- a rarely used expression -- on his lips as he lifted the styrofoam cup of... coffee to his mouth. No creamer, just sugar. ~When did you... reach this decision?~ There was no prevarication, no tossing or hesitation as Xavier looked right at him. "Oh, about twenty five years ago." That only brought the response of an amused snort and Magnus shaking his head. ~So you'd reached that decision when you cored my mind, Charles, and left me for dead? I think not, Charles.~ Setting the coffee back down onto the tray, he hid a cough with the back of his hand. "Your Dream, Charles, has always blinded all else, as has mine." "Perhaps you're right," Xavier agreed, "but I've wanted you that long, and what seems like longer. It's only..." The bald man sighed slightly, drinking from his own cup. /That I couldn't face it then, not with Gabrielle, and then you.../ "Perhaps it's time we both stopped being blindly stubborn, don't you think?" "I think it's time that we deviated from our own fanatic dogma, yes," Magnus agree quietly, letting the coffee slid down his throat. It felt good, clearing and hot... "I'll need to pick up my suitcases from my hotel as some point." "I can go get it, if you'd like," Charles offered, watching with some pleasure as Magnus drank. ~No.~ That was assured, and Xavier could feel the tug at his mind; the want to not be left alone while he was so weakened and vulnerable. "All right," came quiet agreement. "It can wait, at least until this evening. I have a meeting I must attend..." /Duty calls, of course,/ he mused, relaxing back a little into the pillows. "I'll get them myself when you go to your meeting." /There are still a few ends I need to tie up, aren't there? Things to tell Voght. Reassure the Genoshan Delegates that came to this... assure myself that this will work./ "All right." The agreement was easily given as Charles ate the last bite of his own sandwich. "That seems suitable enough." Silence fell again, easy and companionable as he ate his fill and set the tray aside on the very cluttered looking beside the bed stand. /It's been good to rest,/ he mused to himself, deciding to test his powers again. Expression completely unreadable to the other man, he concentrated the little bit needed to focus... They'd come back to him. ~~~~~ Experienced fingers flipped and knotted the material of Charles's tie, tightening it slightly as he looked at himself in a mirror. /Well, Charles,/ he thought to himself, catching Magnus's reflection in it, /looks like you can still knot your necktie without shaking fingers getting in the way./ The fact of the matter was that he and Magnus had spent the afternoon napping, talking and kissing; bizarre, perhaps, to some, but not to them, and he hated to get up, get dressed and go to any sort of meeting, no matter how important. Magnus was standing, again, having more strength than he'd had the night before. Standing, straight and well, hiding his injuries very well with stiff posture as he worked on buttons up his slightly blood-stained shirt. His clothes looked as badly beaten as he'd been the night before, but it was thankfully a short walk to his hotel, and he only had to wear his clothes long enough to get into his room. /Humiliating, but I'll manage,/ he thought, hiding a wince as he moved the leg that had the deep gash in it. "Who are you meeting with?" "The mayor, the city manager, Scott, Jean and Samuel," Charles said softly, finishing up and turning his chair to look at Magnus. There was an urge to move close to the man, embrace him and try to infuse him with assurances. "Be careful when you go and fetch your bags." "Of course, Charles," Magnus murmured, giving Xavier's wheel-chair a little push forward towards the door. It was comforting to have his powers back and fully functioning. "I'm always careful." /And paranoid,/ Charles thought to himself, hands carefully folded upon the blanket in his lap. /Though at the moment, that will only aid him./ "Thank you," he said with a smile. ~You're welcome,~ Magnus returned, easily moving Charles out of the room and through the door that had already been opened. ~I will see you later, then, Charles.~ ~Soon,~ Charles promised. There was nothing more, only a light mental brush from the other man, as Xavier moved into the elevator and down-stairs to the dining hall. In a separate back room, the comfortable table was set, with Jean and Scott already there, along with the Mayor. Wheeling the chair into place at the empty spot at the table, Charles cast a solemn smile at the three. "Jean, gentlemen. I hope I haven't kept you waiting?" "Not at all, Professor," Scott smiled, only slightly wary of what may have been keeping Xavier from being there early as he usually was. But at least he wasn't going to be the last person to arrive. "It's good to meet you again, Professor Xavier," Mayor Mary Ann Burson said with a smile. "It's been quite a convention, hasn't it?" "You really should have been there today, Professor," Scott spoke up, from where he was sitting beside Jean. "Moira gave her telecom speech about the effects and symptoms of the Legacy Virus, and possible cures." That automatically perked his attention as he looked at Scott and smiled, nodding in agreement. "It was a shame to miss it. You'll have to fill me in on what she had to say." "Gladly, Professor -- did you find the person you were looking for last night? Moira was concerned since you hadn't contacted her about it again," he went on, as Samuel entered the room with a open smile and a little wave. Charles looked at Samuel as he sat down. "Ah, yes, I found him. He wasn't feeling very well, someone had beaten him, but..." "Beaten him? Did you report it to the police?" Ms. Burson asked, tilting her head forward with interest. "No... no," Xavier said calmly. "The person in question has a distrust of institutions; police, hospitals and the like, rather understandably considering his past history. He wasn't hurt so badly as to need medical attention, so he simply rested for a while. I stayed with him today rather than going to the conference because I hated to see someone so in pain." Sam's jaw worked slowly as he listened, and sat down across from Jean and Scott. /Ah, Gawd. It *IS* Magneto!/ "And whar is he now, sir? Ah mean, if he's another mutant, how could he have been beaten...?" He leaned forward a little, expression slightly confused. "It would'av gotten *some* attention, wouldn't it?" "Little to none," Xavier assured him. "It was on a dark deserted street and I had the luck to go by the right place, is all. He's been ill recently and so I'm afraid he wasn't up to defending himself." "Well, *obviously* he's been ill if whoever it is has come down with that virus," came a new voice, from a black-haired man with cold green eyes, in a well-tailored suit. "Good-evening, Mayor, Professor Xavier, etc." "Mr. Robertson," the mayor greeted easily, if a bit coolly. "We're glad you could make it." "I'm glad I made it, too, Mayor," he smiled as he sat down. "I'd never miss a chance to have my mind enlightened by someone as intelligent as Professor Xavier here." The wave of condescension in that tone was rather undeniable, but Charles smiled all the same. "Very nice to meet you, Mr. Robertson." "My pleasure," he murmured, scooting his chair more forward. "So! What conversation did I so obviously kill by coming into the room?" "An attack was made on a mutant last evening," the mayor said quietly. "Oh? Instigated or not?" Robertson smiled. "I should have heard about it -- I am in constant contact with the police because of this conference." "It's not a matter of reporting it," Jean spoke up, "It's a matter of going to those best qualified to give *aid*." "A lot of mutants have a certain fear of government institutions, hospitalization, police..." Xavier said, "even if they are the one in need of help." The mayor nodded. "It's certainly understandable that someone would have such a fear..." "So, they prefer to run to private institutions such as your own, Xavier?" Robertson asked, as the waiter came into the room. "The question is -- what sort of threat *are* institutions such as your own?" "They are no threat," Xavier said firmly, looking directly into Robertson's deep green gaze. "Not to humans or to mutants." The eyes that looked back were challenging. "We've seen what similar institutions can do, Xavier. Time and time again with your old Colleague, Magneto -- as he flies around spouting about the dangers of humanity... All it takes is one head-case with charisma, and an institution like yours is a threat to America." "Mr. Robertson," Ms. Burson said softly, "this is not meant to be a confrontational dinner." "It's all right, Ms. Burson," Charles said. "Mr. Robertson certainly has a point; however, neither my institution nor my students are a threat to anyone. What we teach is tolerance and peace. We give children with nowhere else to go a home and moral guidance. That is a far cry from declaring war on humankind, if anything, it's the exact opposite." "Are you sure?" he murmured. "Security cameras recorded you speaking with a man who used the name 'Michael Xavier' to get into the convention. His face matches that of Magnus Lenhsherr." Ahh, and how to answer that? It was not an easy question; not at all. "Perhaps," he said lightly, "your security cameras need a little work." He was surprised that a camera had gotten past Magnus, anyway, though as ill as he'd been... /He's never been one to let such a thing pass./ "Perhaps we had to repair seven of them last night," Robertson mused, as the waiter came to him and told him the specials and he ordered. The others all ordered in turn before the conversation resumed, Charles saying only, "Michael *is* of a similar build and height as Magnus; however, I assure you that he is not Magnus himself." It was a bald-faced lie, but he'd had to tell more than one in his life. Another one wouldn't hurt. "And he's taken to tattooing numbers on his fore-arm, it seems," Robertson went on wryly. "Modern cameras have wondrous zoom capabilities, Professor. Shall I read you the numbers that are there, or will you simpl--" "Now ya just shut-up," Samuel growled. "Magneto may be eight marbles short of his bag, but that's *bad* ground to step onto, Mr. Robertson." The mayor put her foot down at that moment. "John, we're not here to accuse these people or anyone else of anything. We're here to have dinner and conversation -- conversation that we hope will lead to more peaceful relations, *not* nastiness." "Well spoken, Mayor," Scott smiled. "Trying to build a bridge between our differences will prevent the sort of things from happening that would create another Magneto." /Even though, God knows, the professor has been his friend for years, I find it hard that he keeps welcoming him back.../ "If we can cut back on discrimination on both sides, there's less hostility," Jean pointed out. "And that's something we can only reach through mutual understanding; not confrontation," Xavier finished. "Somethin' that *some* people aren't too keen on doin'," Sam gritted out as he looked at the man who sat beside him. "Oh, but you have to admit that there are those among you that will *always* be a threat!" "Actually, Mr. Robertson, I have to admit no such thing," Charles said coolly. "Continuing education and peaceful removal of propaganda will lessen any threat existing on either side of the line that you perceive as laying between mutant and human until both can live harmoniously together." "History would argue otherwise to the co-existence of two such different groups," Robertson mused. "History is something from which we should learn, John," Ms. Burson said. "It's twice the reason we should be making efforts to get along." The city manager turned a little to look at the mayor. "But we have a right to stop terrorist, do we not?" "Well, of course we do," she said. "But I don't see..." "Mrs. Burson," he uttered, looking at her. "Would you be concerned if you knew there was a man in this city, right now, so dangerous that the United Nations unanimously voted him to be a threat?" "Of *course*!" the woman replied, frowning at him. "Mr. Robertson," Xavier began. "'Michael Xavier', Professor, is a wanted man, no matter what spin you've put on it -- a dangerous man, in this *city*," he stressed further. "Mr. Robertson, if you're so certain of what you believe to be true, perhaps you should apprehend the person in question." /God, let him have gone back to my hotel room. That will give me time to get him out of the city.../ Sam started to stand up from his seat. /*Shit*./ "Ah've *got* to go, professor..." "Hold it there -- no forewarning Magneto," Robertson smiled as he grasped the sleeve of Samuel's shirt. "We already know where he is -- I passed him in the breezeway heading to the Weston. Someone gave him a *nasty* beating." Leaning forward on the table to look at Xavier, he tented his fingers underneath his chin. "I don't like to see my officers die, as they obviously would were we to apprehend him. And he could easily be used as a martyr were we to arrest him, Xavier." "You certainly seem to have made a great many decisions in a very short time, Mr. Robertson. Tell me, have your prejudices always ruled your life? Glee is practically dripping from you," Charles said shortly. "So, since you seem so determined to tell me more, do go on." "Robertson," Ms. Burson frowned, hand creasing her napkin. "Why was I not informed of any of this until tonight?" "I started looking into it late last evening," the city manager told her. "I didn't wish to say anything until I was *sure* of it." Then he looked back over the four mutants at the table. "I don't have anything against you. Nothing at all." "You could have fooled me," Scott muttered quietly. "But my *job* is to keep this city as smoothly running as possible. And if that means informing the UN of what I know, then so be it." "I believe you've made your meaning quite crystal clear, Mr. Robertson," Xavier said softly. The mayor seemed torn between one desire and another as she sighed. "I'm so sorry, Professor. This is going to cause so much trouble with the conference... as I'm *sure* Mr. Robertson realized before he began making such foolish plans without notifying his superiors. I'm very sorry." The mere fact that she would say this in front of the four of them did not bode well for Mr. Robertson's job. Robertson's silence seemed to be deep, but not brooding. "I haven't called the UN, however. But we *still* need assurance that he won't engage in terrorist activities. Such as destroying more of our cameras, for a start." "And you believe that I can give you this?" "To a degree, yes," Robertson mused. "Since it appears you've taken or are taking him under your wing, Professor Xavier, and are at least *attempting* to hide his presence here... I think it would be best that he doesn't commit anything criminal, aside from his *being* here to begin with. No crimes, all the research I've had done in the past twelve hours will be destroyed. If he does harm this city in any way, I'll call the UN and have you charged with aiding and abetting." "Then I will give you what assurance I can," he said quietly, nodding at Robertson slowly. "I will do my best." Feeling that he'd won, Robertson nodded, sitting back in his chair. "I suppose that's all I can ask -- after all, we don't need a riot on our hands." Feeling utterly defeated and in need of an aspirin, the mayor sat back in her chair and simply shook her head. Jean took it upon herself to spend the next hour and a half of nearly brooding silence trying to stir up a conversation at the table, and succeeded for brief spasms -- it went best when Robertson was too busy eating to speak, which wasn't often enough. Twice, Samuel had threatened in a round-about way to stab him with his dessert fork. But it was nearly over, because Robertson had bid his good-byes and left, before the mayor. Once he was gone from the table, a certain amount of relief fell over the remaining occupants and conversation picked up again, soft and quiet. "I'm very sorry, Professor," Ms. Burson said calmly. "I assure you that *I* have not worried about Magnus Lenhsherr nor have I any intentions of harassing you or anyone else during this conference..." "I understand, Ms. Burson," Xavier replied. "I also understand Mr. Robertson's worry, to an extent. Magnus Lenhsherr can be a dangerous man, when he wants to be." Biting his tongue to not say anything, Samuel shifted a little as he cleared out his thoughts *before* speaking. "Ms. Burson, he taught me once, and Ah can truthfully say he ain't so bad a man when his head's on right." "We'll be sure that he doesn't cause any trouble at all," Scott tried to assure. There was a certain pride to be taken in his students, their unrelenting belief in him and in the ability of man and mutant to live side by side. Sometimes, he thought they trusted him a great deal more than he trusted himself! "No harm will come to your city, Ms. Burson," he assured her, wondering why he thought he *could* assure her of that. Magnus was as controllable as a hurricane. For some reason, it seemed to comfort the woman, and she smiled as she stood up, shaking hands with each of them. "Well. It's certainly been a very interesting meeting with you, Professor," she uttered. "And I hope that the next meeting is more... peaceful." The, she leaned in close to whisper, "But please. Next time something happens, contact our police." "Of course," he assured her, though he didn't mean it at all. "Thank you, madam." "It's been a pleasure to speak with you..." she said as she drew away. "Good night!" And then left the room, hurrying off to go to her home and take that much needed aspirin. That left the four mutants behind. Turning to look at the professor, Jean murmured, "Charles... could you tell us what's going on with Magneto? We'd like to help." For a moment, he debated what to tell them; truly, he did, but then he leaned back in his chair, folded his hands in his lap and said softly, "Magnus has the Virus." Samuel only nodded, having already guessed, while Scott and Jean had expressions near to shock. It was strange, to think about it -- one of the, if not *the*, most powerful mutant in the world, struck down by something so devastating. /So much for survival of the fittest,/ Scott mused, before he spoke, "We'll have to get him to Moira. She can treat him until..." /He dies. No cure for it yet./ "No," Charles said simply. "He'll be coming home with me." /Like some sortah pet?/ Samuel wondered. Well -- Magneto wouldn't stand for that sort of treatment very long at all. Not a man with that much pride. "Why?" Jean asked. Why. Oh, what a question that was. /So that we can screw ourselves into insensibility like some sort of small furred animals?/ he thought to himself. Heh. If he told them such a thing, they'd have *him* committed, never mind Magnus. "He's stepped down in Genosha, turned everything over to Voght. He has nowhere else to go, and..." /And I want him there. I need no more reason than that./ "Why has the professor taken *any* of us in?" Samuel asked his two elders. "For the same reasons. If he wants to trust Magneto, that's fine. It's not like we have to." That support, coming from Samuel, almost made him smile. /Ah, if you only knew../ But... well, after what the boy'd seen that afternoon... it was entirely possible that he did. "Thank you, Samuel." "Welcome, sir," Sam uttered, getting up. "Ah'll go to sleep, now... See ya'll in the morning." /If he decides to come. Ah don't see how he couldn't, since he's making the closing speech.../ "G'night, Professor! G'night Scott, Jean..." "Goodnight, Sam," Scott smiled, standing, too, along with Jean. Pushing himself back from the table, Xavier nodded at his two older students. "I'll see you in the morning," he said quietly, intending to go back to the room. ~~~~~ To unsubscribe from this group, send an email to: XavierMagnetoSlash-unsubscribe@egroups.com