AN: So, uh, XMFC has taken over my brain apparently. And the epicness that is Erik/Charles cannot be ignored! So I had an hour of time, some groovy music, and inspiration in the form of this adorable bit of art here: http:/ waterylt. deviantart. com/ gallery/#/d3l07uq

Just take out the spaces.

I have no idea if this is any good, and it's not really slashy until the end, but hey, I felt like writing it! Well, more like it just wrote itself. Best kind :) Hope you enjoy, drop me a review if you have a moment!

I Found You Again

By Elora Vashara

Charles Xavier rolled forward a little on the grimy pavement, well aware that his wheelchair was partly metal. It was hot that day, and a bead of perspiration rolled down his brow as he licked his lips with a too-dry tongue. Erik had sent a message, and so he'd had to come. If he showed, it would be the first time they'd seen each other since the day at the beach. A phantom pain ghosted down his spine, stopping abruptly at his lower back in a way he still wasn't used to. He swallowed dryly, squinting in the bright sunlight towards the far end of the parking lot as his intuition pinged. He couldn't sense Erik because of that damned helmet, of course, but he still knew the man better than anyone else alive.

A lock of his chestnut hair flopped into his eyes and he brushed it back impatiently, blue orbs narrowing in concentration. Any moment now…

And then he was there. Erik, striding into view in that ridiculous suit, cape billowing out, sun glinting harshly off the helmet. The supernatural aura he radiated contrasted sharply with Charles' own appearance, just a man in a plain brown suit sitting in a wheelchair. As those hazel eyes focused on him, taking in his appearance, Erik—Magneto now, he supposed—faltered, almost tripping as realization set in. Charles didn't need to be a mind reader to know what was going through Erik's mind just then.

Erik's heart stuttered when he recognized the figure in the wheelchair, his mind spinning into an instant, temporary denial as Charles' words echoed in his mind. You did this. His chest felt torn in a way it never had before, and all he could think was, Have to get to him, have to see, Charles, no, Charles! And his feet were thudding roughly on the asphalt before he skidded on his knees to slide to a rough stop before Charles, and he was grabbing for his hands, but Charles was pulling away and his heart was shattering into a thousand tiny pieces so he grabbed the telepath's knees instead.

"Charles, no, oh Charles, please forgive me, I'm so sorry…!"

And then those slim, pale hands were grasping his helmet and pulling it off so that the sun's rays hit him, and it felt like a slap, and for a moment he wondered if Charles was going to slap him, or kill him, or something, because really he deserved it, and his heart broke into even smaller pieces at the soft expression in those blue eyes. Something wet was making its way down his face. Charles smiled at him, soft at the edges but bright in the center, and his eyes lit up with it.

"Why are you smiling?" Erik whispered brokenly, still as unable to fathom the telepath's reasoning now as when they were friends.

"Because I found you again, my friend," Charles murmured, and sure enough the gentle background caress of his friend's mind was there, no longer held at bay by the helmet, and why had he wanted it gone in the first place?

There was a sharp clang as the helmet hit the pavement, but it went unnoticed by both men, ensconced in their embrace as they were. To the casual passerby it simply appeared to be two men, both wearing suits, one in a wheelchair, chatting amicably in the hot afternoon sun. In reality, it was two men, one wearing a suit, the other wearing a maroon cape, kissing fervently in the hot afternoon sun.

'I guess "make love, not war" isn't such a bad thing' Erik thought idly, and Charles smiled into their kiss.