Chapter Two: Until We Meet
The cemetery is grey and muddy. Eric hates it. Or maybe he is just too tired.
The war has ended. And his father is dead.
His mother is destroying herself.
Raven hasn't been told. She didn't know the man at all. Or maybe she's just too young to understand what death and grief mean. He doesn't say a word.
For him life goes on. The word 'father' stopped meaning anything a long time ago. There are no feelings for the man who is half remembered and half dreamed up. For the silent engineer who loved his planes more than his life. It's sad, really.
His mother hates England now. Hates rains and clouds, hates their old house, hates the feeling of despair and death that is in the air. Raven thinks that she is losing her mind – the death of her husband had affected her too much for her to be able to move on.
Raven wants to go to France, his mother is more than willing to move there. Erik follows.
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Charles doesn't dream. He forgot how to.
A country is being rebuilt; it arises from ashes like a Phoenix. And there is a place for him somewhere in this big world…
Only after he destroys Shaw.
He may have forgotten how to dream, however, he learned quite well to see nightmares from his past.
The country is getting better, he does not. He doubts he ever will, there will always be numbers carved in his skin, and memories burnt in his mind. He will never forget. Ever.
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Erik has mixed feelings about France. Raven is happy and his mother seems better (Eric knows that it is only a show, a hope that if she does pretend, she might actually get better). He enjoys his University life, his studies. But oddly enough he misses America. And wants to go back.
And so one April morning he kisses his mother on the cheek, hugs Raven and boards the first plane to America. He does not regret a thing.
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When he realizes that all his dreams of vengeance, of blood creeping into the pavement, ruining his suede shoes, will always remain just that, dreams, he is standing in front of Weber.
Weber, who had put the metallic band on his hand and pressed the red button. Weber, who wrote with vacant eyes how Charles writhed, and cried, and vomited, and couldn't utter one word, because the pain coursing through his body was agonizingly slow and so methodical that every tiny cell in Charles's body felt the electrical jolts meant only for his head. Weber, who watched, licking his lips, how Charles lashed out and how the others dropped, dropped, dropped, and never stood up.
Weber, who is now writhing on the floor, begging and crying, and sobbing, who smells of fear, of wet pants, sharp and piercing, and who cannot utter one word without breaking it into undistinguishable sounds, helpless and final.
And Charles cannot bring the gun up and shoot the man in the face. It would feel hollow, this vengeance. Because he would not be killing the same man that hurt him, that tortured him, that experimented on him. No one can go back in time and murder that filth. But Charles can, because he is a very gifted man.
Instead, Charles brings up a hand to his temple.
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Erik spends a lot of his college time partying. The parties can be going all night into the day and into the next night and then there is another one, another and another. And every one of them is lovely and worthless.
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They are dark memories, vibrant and alive. And all of them taste of iron and salt.
Weber, Koch, Wolf, Schwarz, Lange, Krause, Fuchs, Muller, Keller. All of them different, and yet, they are still just snacks before the main dish of the meal. Schmidt.
Charles doesn't wonder if he can turn Schmidt's memories upside down and watch as Herr Doktor crumbles from the top of the chain into ash. He knows he can. This time he can.
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In the final year of college Erik gets his act together long enough to graduate with honors. He enjoys the year so much that the decision to go for Doctor's degree is made even before he gets his diploma.
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Charles follows a trail, from Poland to France to South Africa to England to Germany to Argentine to England. Sometimes he thinks that all he is good at is being a bloodhound.
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Raven moves in with him, when Erik announces that he is transferring the family business. He doubts that she would be comfortable in his apartment that is crammed with blue prints, models and books, and asks her whether she wants her own.
He gets kicked out for the day and returns to find his books sitting on the bookshelves and all his blue prints tucked away. He manages to hold back long enough to get to his own room and trash it to the original look.
And he is not a child, thank you, Raven.
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Living with Erik is a nice turn of events.
Mother spoiled her non-stop, focused her whole attention on the only child she had left, making Raven feel loved, accepted for being a mutant (Freaky blue girl). But every child has to grow up and Mother let her go with a promise to visit the two of them.
Erik, on the other hand, looks at her blue form, smiles and continues to persuade her into joining yet another crazy idea, which will only end with him huffing like a baby and rolling his eyes so much that Raven cannot help but wonder why they don't jump out of his eye sockets.
When one morning Raven wakes up to Erik waving a letter at her and smiling like a fox, she wants to punch him.
Accepted.
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The bar is dimly lit and the atmosphere is friendly, loud and warm. Excellent beer and the gentle buzz of thoughts, all incoherent and vague, make this place the perfect one for a pleasant evening.
He is drinking up his second beer, when suddenly there is a desperate scream from someone and he is seeing figures, a diamond woman, a red man, and a man in a dark blue suit, a man, who didn't age one bit since the last time Charles saw him, running for his life, never turning back.
Her name is Moira MacTaggert, age 30. CIA agent. Searching for a genetic mutations expert.
"Agent MacTaggert, I heard you were looking for me."
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Raven is talking animatedly, throwing her arms around, jumping impatiently when he cannot stop laughing, her blonde curls look like vicious little snakes that would bite his to death if he is slow to catch up what exactly Raven is gushing about now. They are returning from the charity concert organized by the freshmen, where Raven played one of the leading roles and that's when it happens.
His last memory is of Raven, whose eyes are suddenly frightened and whose mouth is opened, but Erik cannot hear anything.
Snap. Raven is lying on the ground, by someone's boots.
Snap. There is a man in front of him, waving a gun in his face and saying something, but he cannot hear anything.
Snap. The gun is aimed at his little sister, whose hair is coated in red.
Snap. The metallic pull of the gun, the shaking hand, the frightened green eyes, the silent scream, the hands, the face, the bloodthirst.
Snap. Snap. Snap. Snap. The bullet. Snap. The coins pressed to the throat. The nails scratching the metal. And cold iron penetrating the flesh. Snap. Snap. Snap.
The hearing returns, the vision clears, the haze leaves his mind. The bloodthirstiness settles deep into his bones and never leaves.
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Raven does not question what has happened that night. But somehow the next day Erik's eyes are all wrong.
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Sometimes he feels like a clockwork machine.
The alarm clock goes off at six. Get into shower with eyes closed, the water is 34 degrees. Check. Coffee. And a sandwich. Make a spare for Raven, if she's staying over. Check. Pick one of the many black suits and a matching pair of black shoes. Check. White shirt. Check. Get into the car and drive to the Lehnsherr Industries, get ready for the day of never-ending directors' meeting, conferences, cries of help from the resident researches, calls from the customers.
And at night he sits at one of the dinner tables in Four Seasons, covered with the crisp white tablecloth, drinking Crystal Louis Roederer and eating a six course meal, the finest royal mussels and desserts that melt in your mouth. They talk about their wives and mistresses, children and dogs, about the Formula One champions, about the Cold War, about charity dinners their wives throw. Erik wants to howl.
Only when he is alone in the haven that is his office, working on the newest aircraft, or when he is overlooking the construction of the brand-new ship, can he truly relax.
And then everything flips upside down and Erik finds himself roaming the streets, never quite finding solace, because people are moving, their blood is coursing through their bodies, and blood has iron, and iron is calling for him, even in his sleep it is beckoning him closer.
On the eleventh of May he gets roaring drunk, boards Genosha and sails to the Miami coast.