Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

So go easy on me

I still love you baby

I'd still kill for you

I would kill for you

Tell me what do you need

Tell me who I should be

- "Kill For You" by Gigi Perez

Charles was falling. 

Charles was falling and Erik couldn’t do a damn thing about it. 

The jet was crumbling above them and Erik could feel the metal shearing apart, debris falling all around them. Erik whipped his head around but couldn’t tell who had made it out of the jet. He knew Sean and the Summers boys could probably break their own freefalls, but Hank, Raven, and little Jean might still be in the jet. With all his strength, Erik grasped at the metal of the jet, willing the plane to stay together, dammit. 

With one hand focused on the jet, Erik whipped his head back to Charles, still in freefall. No one was coming to save them, and he hadn’t deployed his chute. The explosion on the jet must have knocked him unconscious. Erik looked down at the every approaching ground, Charles, and the jet. Erik’s mind came to the split-second conclusion that he had two options. He could maintain his hold on the jet (on his children), or he could use magnetic fields to break his and Charles’ fall. He did not have enough energy for both. 

You know the answer, he heard Charles say in his head. You know what I would want you to do. 

Erik desperately tried to pull on the metal fastenings on Charles’ flight suit, trying to slow his descent from the destroyed jet. It wasn’t enough, and Charles was still hurtling toward the ground. In a last ditch effort, Erik threw himself towards Charles in the air, feeling desperately for the magnetic fields around them. He can hear Charles’ voice in his head, the place between rage and serenity, Erik, but all Erik can feel now is fear. He sends a silent prayer that the children are safe. 

The world slips away as Erik curls his body around his lover, and they hit the ground together. 

Erik wakes with a start. He’s in the mansion’s medical wing, tucked under a layer of blankets on a cot. Exhausted, he runs a hand over his face. How long had he slept? The clock on the wall reads 2:37pm, but he doesn’t know what day it is. 

He assesses his body. There’s an IV in his arm and a heart monitor strapped to his chest – every inch of his body aches, tender and bruised. He tries to shift to a sitting position but cries out when his ribs scream in pain. Okay, so no sitting up. He lets his head fall back against the pillow in defeat. His right hand scrabbles for the call button on the cot and he presses it insistently. 

Where is Charles?

He can’t feel the telepath’s familiar warmth in his mind, and his stomach roils at the possibility that Charles is severely incapacitated…or worse. The door to his room opens, and his face falls when he sees Jean, not Charles. She looks exhausted, looking much more like a full-fledged adult than a thirteen year-old girl. 

“Hey, Erik,” she starts softly. “How are you feeling?”

Erik snorts. “Like I fell out of a plane.” She smiles at that, a little sadly. “How – how are the others?” Erik asks with more urgency. 

“Sean was able to catch me and Raven – Scott and Alex were both able to deploy their chutes, and Hank landed the wreckage okay.”

“And Charles?” Erik asks, almost pleading. 

Jean places a hand over his. “Charles is alive.” Erik breathes a painful sigh of relief. “How is he?”

“Still unconscious. Banged up the same as you, but…” She trails off. 

“What?” Erik insists. “Tell me, Jean.”

“He – “ Jean’s voice breaks, and she has to look away has her eyes fill with tears. “Hank says he might have another spinal injury.”

Erik feels like all the air has been punched out of him. “How bad?” He asks, his voice hoarse. 

“It’s higher than the first one – in the thoracic region. He might need breathing assistance for the rest of his life.” 

Erik can almost feel his world stop spinning. 

Charles is hurt, again, because of him. Might have his mobility and independence irreparably changed, again , because of him. Before he can stop it, tears are falling hot and fast down his face, his hands coming up to try and hide his shame. 

Jean catches one of his wrists. “Hey. You did everything you could. Hank said it’s just easier to reinjure the spine after one injury. You saved his life, Erik.”

“I – I’m sorry, Jean. I need to be alone.” He hates pushing her away, but he hates her seeing him like this even more. 

She stands from the chair she’d pulled up to his bedside. “Of course. Can I get you anything?”

Erik shakes his head as more tears fall, his body shaking. “Just – tell me if he wakes up?”

Jeans gives him that sad smile again. “Of course, Erik. When he wakes up.”

Erik drifts in and out of consciousness, the concept of time slipping away from him as his body tries to heal. At one point, Hank comes in to update him on his own recovery. Erik had shielded Charles with his body as they hit the ground, resulting in massive internal bleeding, broken ribs, and sprains in pretty much every joint in his body. “You were able to slow yourself down from terminal velocity. It could have been much worse, Erik.”

Could it? Erik thinks miserably. “I need to see him, Hank.”

Hank shakes his head before adjusting Erik’s IV, sending more painkillers into his bloodstream. “Soon, Erik. You need to heal a bit more first.” Before he can protest, Erik loses consciousness again. 

Charles wakes while he’s still on breath support, and his body flails instinctively against the intrusion. 

“Shh, you’re okay, Charles.” A warm hand presses against his chest, rubbing soothingly. “The tube needs to stay in a little longer, okay? You hit the ground pretty hard.” Charles blinks his eyes several times, willing them to focus, before they settle on the figure beside his bed. Raven. 

Charles is confused. Raven had gone to be with Erik, when had she come back home?

Why are you here? He asks telepathically. 

Raven blinks in surprise. “You needed me,” she says simply. “Do you want me to leave?”

No! I’m sorry – I think I’m just confused. I know you don’t speaking like this, but I’m afraid my mouth is rather indisposed. 

Raven chuckles a bit at that. “You know, I don’t think I mind so much anymore. You’re at the mansion – we went on a mission, and the jet was hit. Everyone’s okay, relatively speaking.” She pauses, then – “would you like Erik to come see you?”

Anger flares in him. Of course, Erik was here. The man had a knack for showing up only after Charles was hurt – or else he was doing the hurting himself. The details of the jet going down are fuzzy in Charles’ mind, but he wouldn’t be surprised if it was somehow related to Erik’s “activism”. 

I never want to see that man again, Raven. 

Raven startles at his words, but Charles assumes he’d let too much of his anger at the man bleed into his projection to Raven. 

“Charles…”

I mean it, Raven. He’s hurt me enough. No more. 

Raven’s mouth purses into a thin line, and she looks more hurt than Charles expected her to. “He was just trying to help, Charles.”

And look where that got us, Charles says bitterly. 

Raven acquiesces. “Alright, Charles.” She stands to leave. “Anything you want me to tell Hank? Do you want Hank to come see you?”

I want to be alone, Charles thinks, his eyes becoming damp. Please, Raven. 

Raven leaves the room, and Charles slips into sleep again. 

“I’m sorry,” Raven raises her hands in a gesture of surrender. “I’m just the messenger.” 

Erik crumples forward on his cot, covering his face with his hands. “I thought that we were past this. I thought…” I thought we agreed to forgive each other. 

“Maybe he just needs some space and time,” Raven suggests, sitting on the edge of Erik's bed. 

Erik laughs bitterly. “He sounded pretty sure, Mystique. I don't blame him. I have hurt him.” He stares down at his hands. Traitorous, weak hands. Even twenty years after paralyzing Charles in Cuba, he still distrusts these hands. 

“Erik, you're the only reason he's still alive. Surely he'll come around.” 

Erik shakes his head before burying it in his hands again. “I did it for the children. I – I had to pick. Keep the jet together or slow us down.” 

Raven nods in understanding. “And you chose the jet.” She places one of her hands atop Erik's shoulder, deep in thought. “I think you should tell him yourself.”

“But he said –” 

“I don't give a damn what he said,” Raven hisses. “He's going to give you at least five minutes of his time before throwing away what you've both worked so hard for the last two decades.” She stands. “Has Hank cleared you for wheelchair use?” 

“Tomorrow. He said I should limit myself to 15 minutes sitting up at a time.” 

“That's all the time we need. Tomorrow then. I'll come get you and we'll talk to Charles. See if we can get him to pull his head out of his ass.” 

After she leaves the room, Erik weeps silently.

Chapter Text

The next day, Hank comes in to Charles' room, informing him that he thinks Charles might be able to wean off of the ventilator. 

"You'll have a mask that seals over your nose, but your mouth will be free for speaking and hydration. We're going to keep doing IV nutrition for a while, since there will be some swelling in your throat. Is that something you want to try?" 

Charles nods as vigorously as he can on the ventilator. Yes, please, Hank. 

"I'll need another person to assist in the extubation -- who would you like it to be? Maybe Jean? I have been starting her on some basic medical training. Sean is uninjured as well, but, uh," Hank chuckles, "I imagine you don't want your clumsiest student to assist in a medical procedure." 

Charles smiles as best he can around the ventilator. Is Raven still here?

"Oh! Yes. She could help. Is that who you want?" 

Charles nods again. 

"Okay, I'll let her know and get everything prepped. Do you have any questions?" 

Charles shakes his head, and Hank excuses himself to go find Raven. 

Charles had lied though, he did have a question: 

Who is Jean? 

When Raven enters the room to help extubate Charles, she looks at him a little coldly, which Charles understands – he did tell her yesterday that he never wanted to see her best friend again. Nevertheless, Raven helps prop Charles into a sitting position for Hank to remove the ventilator tube as gently as possible. Charles coughs and sputters, his lungs and throat burning, but he blessedly takes a breath of his own volition, small though it may be. 

Raven helps him lay back down as Hank straps the breathing mask to his head, covering his nose but leaving his mouth free. Charles tries to speak, but all that comes out is a croak. “Here,” Raven hushes him, and holds out a spoonful of ice chips. Charles wraps his mouth around them, letting them melt in his mouth before swallowing. “You can keep projecting to me, okay? I don’t mind, Charles, truly. You need to rest your throat more before trying to speak.” 

Okay, Charles says, and even his mental voice sounds small to Raven. 

“Raven, can you help me turn him on his side? I want to check on his spine.” Hank asks from the other side of the cot. 

Raven nods, her eyes lingering on Charles for a second longer before standing to help Hank. Charles winces as they lean him onto his side, but he’s grateful – pain means the nerves are still communicating with his brain. “Can you feel this, Charles?” Hank touches a few places along his upper back, and Charles hisses in a breath at each of them. They set him back down as gently as possible. “Okay, we’re seeing some great progress. Charles, you have to continue to rest, for a few more weeks at least, but I think you’re going to heal fully.”

Not really fully, Charles thinks bitterly, thinking of the long-lost sensation in his legs. 

“I think it’s best to continue using the breathing mask as you recover. Your lungs, diaphragm, and intercostal muscles have to rebuild their strength. Maybe tomorrow we can assess your throat a bit more, yeah?”

Charles nods, his head movements much freer now with the face mask. 

“Good. If you have any questions, feel free to hit the call button, or, you know,” he gestures towards his forehead with two fingers. “Jean should be around too.”

There’s that name again – Jean. It’s nagging something in the back of Charles’ head, but he can’t quite place it. He nods again, and Hank and Raven finally leave. Charles drifts off to sleep. 

“Erik, careful,” Jean warns, holding her hands out to steady him. After a lot of jostling and sweating (on Erik’s part), he’s seated in a wheelchair. “You okay?”

Erik’s trying to control his breathing, trying not to pant with his broken ribs. “Yes. Thank you, Jean.” He looks down at his watch. “I guess those fifteen minutes start now, huh?”

Jean nods, and she leads Erik out of his room and towards Charles’ room. “Raven told me she and Hank extubated him this morning, and Hank gave him some pain medication, so he might now be unconscious.”

“I just need to see him.” I need to know he’s alive. 

Jean knocks softly on the door to Charles’ room, then pushes it open, holding it ajar for Erik. “I’ll wait outside, but Hank is pretty serious about the fifteen minute limit.”

Erik nods in acknowledgement, but Jean is nearly forgotten when he sees Charles asleep on his cot. His face is pale, the edges of his hair damp with sweat and sticking to his forehead. Most of his body is covered by bedsheets and the hospital gown, but what skin Erik can see – scheiße. Angry, purple bruises mottle his skin. Some of them are so dark they almost appear black. Erik shakes his head, wondering what he must look like if this is what the fall did to Charles. 

He wheels his way to the right side of Charles’ bed, and starts projecting. Charles. I don’t know if you can hear me. I just wanted to see you – I had to know you were still alive. I know you’re in a lot of pain, but I wanted you to know that you’re not alone. Erik scans Charles’ face for any sort of reaction, any indication that he’s heard Erik’s thoughts. Nothing. 

Raven told me you’re upset with me. I understand. I would be too. I thought I was doing the right thing. I thought we – I thought we wanted the same thing. Tears prick in Erik’s eyes. This feels all too familiar. 

She said you never want to see me again. Unlucky for you, I’m a stubborn bastard, and I promised to never leave you again. So until you’re lucid enough to tell me to piss off, I’m going to stay with you. He reaches a hand out tentatively to Charles’, making his touch as gentle as possible. 

I’m sorry, old friend. 

Charles is having the strangest dream. 

Erik is looking up at him from across a chess board. That wasn't the strange part. 

The strange part was the metal band sitting in the palm of Erik's outstretched hand. A ring. 

Dream-Charles looks at Erik's face in surprise. “Did you make this yourself?” 

Erik blushes. “Of course. Only the best for you, Charles.” The ring gleams like copper in the light of the study. “Is that a yes?” 

“Of course, you fool,” Dream-Charles is rushing to kiss Erik over the table, not caring where the chess pieces fall. “Yes, yes, yes.” He punctuated each word with a kiss. 

Erik slides the ring onto his finger. “I made it plain, but maybe someday –” Someday we can be loud about our love. 

“Oh Erik,” Dream-Charles cradles the older man's face in his hands. “I could love you in whispers for a whole lifetime and I wouldn't care.” 

Charles wakes with a start. He feels oddly cold. He lifts his hand from under his blanket, inspecting it in the dim light of his medical room. It's bruised and tender, but – 

No ring. It was only a dream. 

Charles buries his face into his pillow and tries to ignore the ache of disappointment festering in his gut. 

Charles hadn't stirred the entire time Erik sat with him. Erik knew it was good for him to rest, and yet – he yearned to see those blues look at him. Even if they were full of anger. 

Jean promised she'd help him visit again tomorrow. Said Charles might even be able to speak a few words aloud. Only took falling out of a plane to get you to quit running your mouth, he thinks fondly. 

Two metallic objects circle each other in the air above his palm. He can't keep his lover in the sky, but at least he has these. Raven had dropped them off after his visit to Charles, grabbed them from the dresser where he and Charles leave them when the get ready for a mission. 

Two rings.

Chapter Text

When Jean comes to get him the next morning for his 15 minutes of freedom, Erik puts both of the rings in his pocket. Now or never. 

Charles is sitting upright in his bed, still looking as battered as Erik saw yesterday. But he’s happy to see Charles’ bright blue eyes. 

Even if they’re blazing with anger. 

“Erik,” he says, his voice tight and pinched. “I thought I made my position clear.”

“I wanted to hear it straight from you,” Erik huffs. “And thought maybe Jean should be here too. This affects her just as much as me.”

Charles’s angry look softens, his eyes flicking between Erik and Jean. “Jean?” He asks, like he doesn’t understand why Jean would be affected by her adoptive parents splitting up. It makes Erik’s blood boil. 

“Yes, Charles,” he hisses. “I thought our daughter might want to be a part of this conversation. Since you’re proposing splitting up her parents.”

Charles’ jaw clenches, and he looks even more confused, which only serves to make Erik even more frustrated. 

“I get that you’re angry with me, and if you want me gone, I’ll leave,” Erik says, resigned. “But this is yours,” he holds out one of the copper bands. 

“I’m sorry, are you proposing to me right after you almost paralyzed me again?” Charles’ mouth is agape. 

Everything clicks into place for Erik. Charles not wanting to see him, Charles not recognizing Jean when she came into his room, Charles being confused about Raven’s presence at the mansion – 

“You. Dense. Mother. Fucker.” Erik growls, putting emphasis on each word. “What year do you think it is?”

Charles huffs, crossing his arms. “I’m not an idiot, Erik, it’s 1970. March, if you must know. Unfortunately, I don’t know what day it is, because someone did something stupid again and crashed my fucking jet.” 

“You think I crashed the jet?” Erik’s heartbeat is pounding in his ears. “We were blown out of the sky, Charles! Wait – you think it’s 1970?!” 

Charles shuts his mouth, finally. Then, in a small voice, he asks – “what year is it actually?”

“It’s October 21st, 1980.” Jean murmurs quietly. “I’m going to be fourteen next week, Charles.” Charles desperately tries to remember Jean, his daughter, but his memories remain stubbornly shut away. 

“I’m – I’m missing ten years?” Charles’ hand reaches to Erik’s cheek, cradling it. “I don’t know who you are now.” His voice is soaked through with sadness, like knowing Erik – even the young, angry Erik – was a pleasure on its own. 

“Let me show you,” Erik offers. 

“But – you hate when I’m in your head.”

Erik shakes his head gently against Charles’ hand. “Not anymore. Take a look, Charles.” Erik brings Charles’ right hand to his forehead. 

Erik, coming back to the mansion, looking more weathered and worn than he should after his seven year absence. 

Erik, accompanying him to follow up on a lead about a powerful telepath child — Jean. 

Erik, showing Jean his powers, assuring her that she’s not alone. 

Erik, crawling into Charles’ bed when he can’t sleep, nightmares haunting him and Charles chasing them away. 

Erik, taking on the role of teacher and splitting Charles’ workload in half, insisting that “they’re partners now”. 

Erik, making breakfast with one hand and holding little Jean on his hip with the other, smiling at Charles. 

Erik, leaning across a table and holding out a ring —

Charles jolts back into his own body, because Erik is handing him a ring again, the same ring that Charles has dreamed about – that was apparently so important that a 2,000 foot drop from the sky couldn’t shake the memory of receiving it from his head. 

“We're married?” Charles’ voice trembles at the question. 

“Going on five years, liebchen.” Erik holds out the ring to Charles again. “Now will you let me give you this?” 

Charles surges forward as much as he can, grasping Erik's face with both hands, and bringing him into a crushing kiss. “Stay,” he pants when he pulls away. “And forgive me? For pushing you away?”

Erik draws Charles into his arms, rests his chin atop Charles’ head. “Nothing to forgive. I didn't like myself from ten years ago either.” 

Charles chuckles wetly at that, before holding out a hand to Jean. “I'm afraid we have a lot of catching up to do, my dear.” 

Jean takes her father's hand, smiling. “I'm glad to have you back, Dad.”