Sunday

The first thing Erik thought when he woke up was I didn't have a nightmare. This was such a shock that he sat up immediately, wondering if it was still the middle of the night, but the sun was shining through the curtains and he could hear birdsong outside.

He'd slept through the night.

He turned around to the sleeping Charles, who was drooling into the sheets. "Charles," he snapped. This was no time to appreciate Charles sleeping, this was urgent.

Charles murmured something but didn't wake. "Charles," Erik said louder and then Charles said, "Wffgszzle? Huh?" and cracked open an eyelid. He blinked for a bit and then slurred, "Erik, what - ?"

"What did you do to my mind?" Erik snapped.

"Huh?" mumbled Charles again, but more coherently this time. "Nothing. What are you talking about?"

"I didn't have a nightmare," Erik said. "You must have done something to my mind."

Charles rubbed his eyes. "Erik, I fell asleep before you and I didn't wake up until now, I didn't do anything to your mind."

Erik paused. "But," he said. "I mean, I've never…" never had a night without a nightmare, he thought to himself. Not since his mother had died. He felt completely thrown.

"Great, no nightmares." Charles snuggled back into the pillows. "Does that mean we can go back to sleep now?"

"But – " Erik started, which was when Charles grabbed him by the arm and forced him back down onto the bed.

"Sleep," he said sternly and flung an arm over Erik's chest to prevent him sitting up again. Erik lay stiffly on the bed as Charles wriggled closer, softened his grip and then proceeded to fall back asleep as easily as breathing.

Erik lay on the bed for a while, feeling completely disorientated. There was no way he was going to go back to sleep, he decided. It was too bright outside and he was too confused, and Charles's arm over his chest was not helping matters at all, it was not comfortable at all. There was no way, he decided firmly, that he was going back to sleep.

Which was when he went and did exactly that.

He woke to a light fluttery feeling on his face, soft as butterfly wings, and when he opened his eyes he saw that Charles was leaning over him, running the tips of his fingers down the side of Erik's jaw. "You slept almost the whole morning," he said, smiling.

"Mm," said Erik. He was feeling warm, lazy and more rested than he had been in a long time, and he never wanted to get out of this bed. Charles's eyes were a dreamy blue that morning, bright as the sky, and before he could stop himself, Erik was reaching up to brush his knuckles against the man's cheek in a hesitant imitation of Charles's touch on him. If Charles had blinked or flinched even for a second, Erik would have been out of the room like a shot, but he just pressed his cheek into the back of Erik's hand and smiled like they did this all the time.

There was a long silence while they lay staring at each other, and then Charles said suddenly, "Do you believe yourself incapable of love?"

Erik stiffened, suddenly guarded, and dropped his hand back onto his chest. "Love is a foolish, childish emotion that gets everyone killed," he said stiltedly.

Charles paused, though he didn't look surprised at all. His fingers remained on Erik's cheek but they stopped moving. "So you don't love."

"I can't love," Erik corrected suspiciously. He could feel his sleepy laziness abandoning him for his old paranoid wariness, and brushed Charles's hand away from his cheek.

Charles smiled as if Erik had said something incredibly romantic rather than the complete opposite. "Then what do you feel about me?"

If Erik got any stiffer, he would turn into a sheet of metal himself. He propped himself up on his elbows, no longer relaxed. "Are you reading my mind again?" he demanded.

Charles's smile widened. "Oh Erik," he said, all soft danger. "I don't have to."

Erik hesitated, irresolute. Charles settled down beside him, resting his chin on his knotted hands. "So. How do you fancy moving a satellite dish?"

Erik stared at him.

They stood by that stone balcony and Erik failed to move the satellite just one more time. And then Charles brought forward the thought of his mother, that thought of the two of them lighting the Hanukkah candles and suddenly it was like he'd opened a door in the dark of Erik's head and let a crack of light through. All at once there was not only rage in his mind but serenity, a mixture of love and hate all broiling inside him, swirling inside him, crashing inside him like waves on a shore, and when he raised his hand the satellite dish moved as easily as if it were a bullet, or a coin.

And all the time Charles stood behind him, watching him, saying there's good in you, I sensed it. It was the first time in Erik's life that he'd ever even considered the idea that he could be anything other than a monster and of course, of course, it was going to be Charles who made him think it.

And then, in a rush, it was time for the President's speech and they realised Shaw's next move, and Erik had to leave the room to process it all properly.

He paced the gardens and thought harder than he ever had in his life. He had never cared about Shaw's attempt to start nuclear war. Maybe he would kill the humans with his nuclear attack, maybe he wouldn't, but none of that mattered to Erik. He had no doubts that the mutants would survive it, and mutants were all he cared about. There were other problems to tackle.

He had found the secret to his power, the one that Shaw had tried so hard to exploit. But in using it, he – and all the other mutants - would be discovered for what they were.

He would be able to kill Shaw. But the humans would kill him straight afterwards.

He'd spent time talking and training with other mutants – being in a team and, to his astonishment, enjoying it. But that team would be dead tomorrow.

He'd woken up in bed with Charles and a blissful lack of nightmares. But he would never be able to do that again.

He would get his vengeance tomorrow. But he would lose everything else.

It was as though, after a week of the strangest ups and downs he'd ever had, life felt fit to throw him the biggest up and then the biggest down in quick succession. There was a…a Charles in his head now, whereas before there had only been a Shaw. What was it Charles had always said to Hank? "In each of us, two natures are at war". Maybe that was true of Erik as well – he had a Charles side and a Shaw side. And what the hell was he going to do about it now?

He did consider, and he remembers considering even now, not killing Shaw. Just walking back to the house and telling them all not to go ahead with the mission, persuading those children - and they were still children, he could not deny it - that going to Cuba would kill them. They could spend their days living in private, finding other mutants in private and enjoying their abilities in private. He and Charles, together.

But Shaw would be alive and, not only that, but successful in his life. The man who killed his mother would still be so very alive.

It was no longer possible to kill Shaw and then walk away from his past one and for all. Erik would be sacrificing everything tomorrow if he killed Shaw. The privacy of his powers, the team, a home, his life…Charles.

Charles wanted him to be the better man, but Erik had moved a satellite dish that morning. He was already better.

They had the quietest dinner they'd had so far that evening. Even Moira, usually happy to break awkward silences and steer conversations away from arguments, was disheartened. Erik sat, listening to the scrape of cutlery on plates and watched all of them.

Hank, with his readiness to help someone even if he originally hated their guts. Sean, with his new love of flying that Erik shared. Alex, with his inability to hurt someone he loved and addiction to cigarettes. Raven, with her developing desire to just be herself. Charles.

Charles.

His mother.

Erik made up his mind.

That shred of guilt eventually made him warn Charles, just a little, over their chess match that evening, of the dangers the kids were facing. Perhaps, he thought, if he didn't have the humanity to stop them getting killed, Charles would. He said, "Shaw. Us. They won't differentiate. They'll fear us. And that fear will turn to hatred."

But instead Charles, in all his ridiculous naivety, would not even consider the idea that the humans would turn on them.

"Not if we stop a war," he said, and that was all there was to it. That was the difference between them right there - Erik always saw the worst and Charles always saw the best, and maybe they were both wrong, but in this scenario, in this place…Erik knew he would be right.

But he'd tried warning Charles, he thought as he made his way back to his room shortly afterwards, ignoring the way his stomach was churning. At least he'd tried.

He opened the door on a naked Raven.

Raven said, when they parted from the kiss, "Damn."

"Er," said Erik. He wasn't used to people saying that after he'd kissed them.

Raven sighed, lowering blue eyelids over amber eyes. "You're in love with him, aren't you."

Erik froze.

"It's all right, it's not totally obvious or anything," Raven quickly added. "I just know the signs." She smiled wryly at him. "I fancied myself in love with Charles for a bit. He just has that sort of…charm about him, doesn't he? A magnetism."

Erik blinked. He couldn't exactly deny it but he wasn't sure he could admit it either. Out of all their problems, he'd never thought he'd have to face this.

Raven sighed again and got out of the bed, naked and blue and lovely in her beauty. Erik would never regret kissing her – she was a marvel.

"'Course I got over it," she continued. "He's like my brother. I'm not sure you will though. Or him."

Erik's tongue unstuck itself. "Sorry - or him?"

Raven threw him a half grin. "He's not the only one with magnetism, Erik."

She strolled over to the door, full of a confidence she hadn't had when he'd walked in. He highly suspected he'd done her some good. "How about we carry this on in a few years?" she said casually. "If you're free of course. Night, sweetie."

She blew him a kiss and left, and Erik stared at the door in complete and utter bemusement.

Eventually he ventured out of the room to find Charles. He knew, somehow, that the man wouldn't be in bed. Tonight didn't really seem like a night for sleeping, despite his earlier words, and there was no way he was going to leave their conversation where they'd left it earlier.

He found Charles, drunk as a skunk on champagne and lounging on a sofa in the living room. He was swigging right out of the bottle, grinning in his idiotically dreamy fashion.

"Mein Gott," Erik said, leaning on the doorframe to admire the view. "You really are a complete lush, aren't you?"

Charles beamed at him. "I'm drunk!" he announced.

At the beginning of the week, Erik wouldn't have been able to smile at that. Now, he felt a corner of his mouth lift before he could stop himself. "You'll regret it tomorrow," he pointed out, and walked over to the sofa, kneeling down to wrestle the bottle out of Charles's hand.

Charles let the bottle go with grudging consent. "I'll regret a lot of things tomorrow, I'm sure," he said morosely.

Erik placed the bottle out of grabbing range and turned back to Charles, about to order him to go and get some sleep, but before the words could escape his lips, Charles leaned forward on the sofa, took Erik's face in gentle hands and kissed him on his open mouth.

It was the easiest kiss Erik had ever experienced - he moved as if he had been waiting the entire week for Charles's lips to touch his. He knew just how to kiss back, just how far to tilt his head, just how slowly he should run his hand through Charles's hair. Charles sighed and leaned into him, wrapping one hand around the back of Erik's neck, and everything he did was perfectly familiar. It felt like they'd been kissing for fifty years, not fifty seconds.

When they parted, Erik heard himself murmur, "What is it with everyone throwing themselves at me tonight?"

It was not what he'd planned to say, but in hindsight (which Erik has a lot of now) it was probably better than the alternative, which would have been something both romantic and stupid in equal measure. Charles's slightly unfocused eyes, so very blue this close up, squinted as he frowned. "Who else has been kissing you?"

Erik felt himself do that half smile again. "You'd kill me if I told you," he said. He ran his hand through Charles's hair again – it was soft, and thick, and grabable. "Come to bed."

A slow, luxurious smile spread itself across Charles's face. "Is that an invitation?"

The thought of it, of going to bed, made Erik breathless, but even now something was stopping him, constricting his chest in warning. "Maybe tomorrow?" he offered. "After the mission." Because for Erik it was all about the mission now, even with Charles so close and intimate, even with Charles's taste on his lips, it was all about killing Shaw.

Charles met his eyes, but Erik couldn't tell if he was reading his mind or not. He hoped not. His mind was not a pretty place at that moment. "Tomorrow," Charles said at last. He nodded slowly. "Okay. Tomorrow."

Erik nodded in reply and helped Charles struggle up off the sofa. He swayed a bit in the process, but Erik had no problem with gripping hold of his waist to keep him upright, especially when Charles giggled in a flustered way that couldn't quite be blamed on the alcohol.

Once he was upright, Charles smiled brightly but didn't make any move to leave the room. "You know," he said, "You could be happy, Erik."

Erik glanced at him but didn't know what to say.

"You've had such little happiness in your life," Charles continued. He was standing flush against Erik, seemingly unaware that he was doing so. "But you could be happy here."

Erik felt himself stiffen, tried to resist the urge to shove Charles away. "I told you earlier. That's not an option."

He expected Charles to move away at that, but he did not. Instead he said, "Before, when I touched your mind, when I found you and your mother - "

"Don't," Erik said warningly.

"That wasn't the only bright memory I found there, Erik," Charles persisted with drunken recklessness. "There are many, many more." He paused. "Would you like me to show you?"

Erik wanted to say no, but, just as he hadn't been able to earlier, he couldn't do it here. He was curious, still curious, as to why Charles believed he was good even after all the evidence he had seen to the contrary. He nodded instead.

"Okay," Charles said, and pressed a warm hand to Erik's face.

And he saw them.

He saw Moira proclaiming Erik was adorable, even as he threatened her. He saw Alex begging for a cigarette and Erik misunderstanding. He saw Sean falling out of the window and Erik laughing himself silly at the sight of it. He saw Raven trouncing Erik at Monopoly, grinning in victory as she did so. He saw Hank's smile as Erik's feet finally rose from the ground. He saw them all eagerly chattering at the dinner table, so excited about what they had learned that day. He saw Charles's lips touch Erik's.

See, Charles's voice said in his head. See the happiness you could have.

Charles, Erik thought desperately. Please don't.

Charles's hand gently slid down and off Erik's face. The images flickered away. "All right," he said quietly. "All right."

Erik marshalled his thoughts together. "Bed," he ordered.

They got ready for bed in silence, then lay in said bed in the same silence. Erik wanted to lean over Charles and kiss him until they both lost their senses, but that same constriction was sitting there inside his chest, heavy and halting.

After tomorrow, he thought, they would have time. Surely they would have time.

Charles's hand sought his. "Erik," he said, "If you kill Shaw, you will go somewhere that I cannot. Do you understand?"

"Yes," Erik answered, because he did.

"We're on the same path at the moment," Charles's voice said, weary and soft in the darkness. "But that path could so easily split, Erik."

"I know," said Erik, because he did.

And yet he also knew that fact changed nothing. Shaw would die tomorrow, and at his hands. Killed by a better man. Probably the best way to go, at least for him.

Charles sighed and let go of Erik's hand and Erik got the feeling, all over again, that he had somehow disappointed him.

Monday

Erik woke that morning nightmare-less and hating this fact. He had wanted the nightmares, had wanted his sleep riddled with them so that he could wake up enraged and ready to murder Shaw in the worst way possible. Instead he woke up fully rested and staring down at Charles's sleeping face.

It was like not even his own body wanted him to kill Shaw.

Charles woke up barely minutes later, smiling and determined to make the mission successful. Erik followed his cheery lead, more than a little confused and determined not to mention the previous night one bit.

They flew towards Cuba, facing each other in the plane across a sudden unbridgeable distance. For most of the time, Charles smiled and chatted with Raven and the others, keeping them at ease, and Erik, antsy and ready to face twenty Shaws, sat and fidgeted. He wanted to be in Cuba already, getting to Shaw and killing him - killing him like he'd always wanted, all rage and fury and justice -

No, Charles whispered in his head. You won't.

Erik glanced at Charles but he was, in person at least, telling an in depth joke about Raven to Sean, expression bright and cheerful.

Get out of my head, Erik snapped. This is the last time I will say it, Charles.

There was a pause, so long that Erik half wondered if Charles had done as ordered. Then Charles said, in a very sure voice, I know you will be the better man, Erik.

There was no point saying anything more. Charles would always think Erik was a good man and there would be nothing Erik could do to change it. Nothing at all.

Except, perhaps, kill Shaw.

He watched Charles finish the joke, watched Sean burst out laughing at it and Raven gently punch Charles on the arm, and then he watched Charles smile, a great, beaming, innocent smile, and his heart died inside him.

In the end, Erik does not regret what he did. None of the team were killed in spite of his worries, and in actuality the humans knowing about mutants have made things easier for him. He can be himself, like he always wanted. Raven enjoys it, has blossomed in her powers now she has the ability to be herself, and Erik knows he has grown far stronger in his power as well. He can fly great distances now, not just hover at treetop level. He can move whole cities, not just a submarine. He does not regret killing Shaw. He does not regret anything of Cuba at all.

But he does regret the week that preceded it. It troubles him like nothing else ever has.

One day, one of the Brotherhood's teleporters turns up in their headquarters with a brown envelope marked with the name of Erik. Not Magneto. Erik.

Erik stares at the envelope for ages before opening it.

Inside are a collection of photographs. They are the photos Hank took one night in that week. There is a photo of Charles and Raven laughing and smiling together, Raven blonde and Charles uncrippled. There is a photo of Moira smiling up from her paperwork. There is a photo of Sean and Alex joking together. There is a photo of all of them huddled around the sofa, all of them grinning at the camera but Erik. Charles has a hand on his arm and Erik recalls, vividly, the moment when Charles had tugged him into the photo, smiling as he did so and saying something like "Hank said all the team, Erik".

And then there is one last photo. One that Erik does not remember being taken. He and Charles are sitting on one of the sofas together, sitting far closer to each other than he recalls, though perhaps his memory is faulty. Erik has clearly said something both amusing and rude because Charles is laughing, head thrown backwards, with a slightly guilty expression on his face, and Erik is smiling like a mischievous schoolboy. His eyes are on Charles's face, obviously intent on engraving every one of the man's expressions into his mind as though he thinks he has a limited time to appreciate them. Which, in the end, he did.

There is no note that comes with the photographs, but there does not need to be. It does the job it was sent to do.

Because for a moment, Erik remembers that week, every detail of it, and for an even briefer moment…he does not regret it.

A/N: Thanks for your patience in this last chapter guys, and I hope you enjoyed it (and the story as a whole!) Thanks for all your reviews and love, it is so very appreciated! x