Somehow, my X-Men fics never turn out like I'd hoped. Ah, well. I'm posting this anyway, on the chance that someone out there might enjoy it.

(For my own reference: 42nd fanfiction, 2nd story for X-Men.)

And still I dream he'll come to me
That we will live the years together
But there are dreams that cannot be
And there are storms we cannot weather
- "I Dreamed a Dream," from Les Miserables

.

.

It's a very long drive from Westchester, New York, to Washington, DC, where Erik is being held in the plastic prison in the depths of the CIA headquarters. It's a blessing in disguise, Charles thinks. If Erik were closer, he would visit him more often - and he knows that his old friend would grow resentful of that quickly. But at this distance, he's forced to put enough time between his trips that - Charles dares to hope - Erik looks forward to them.

.

.

The first time he visits Erik in prison, he asks Storm to drive him there. But he realizes almost immediately that it was a mistake. Their car has just cleared through the gates surrounding the school when Storm says, "Well, this is your chance, Professor."

He doesn't understand what she means right away, and he's too polite to find out by reading her thoughts. "My chance?" he asks, puzzled.

"To get inside Magneto's head," she explains, as if it should have been obvious. She leans forward eagerly as she talks, gripping the steering wheel in both hands. The motion reminds Charles a predatory animal lunging at its prey in the wild, and he suddenly feels very uncomfortable.

"He isn't going to have that helmet on in prison," Storm continues. "You'll be able to find out anything you want to know, and he won't be able to stop you."

Charles tries to hide how horrified he is by the suggestion. How could Storm even think him capable of such a thing? But then, she's not telepathic; she doesn't understand how it feels to enter someone's mind without their permission and find out things that they didn't want you to know. It's breaking and entering. It's the worst kind of violation. After a pause, Charles tries for a safe answer.

"I don't think that's necessary," he tells Storm, his voice calm. "Erik is no longer a threat to anyone. He's in prison, and -"

"But Mystique isn't," Storm interrupts. "She's still out there, posing as Senator Kelly, probably trying to break Magneto out of prison, and who knows what else she could be doing. You know how dangerous she is. She nearly killed you when she poisoned Cerebro. Magneto must know where we can find her, even from prison."

Charles sighs softly, but he doesn't interrupt. It can be difficult to stop Storm when she gets going like this. He just needs to be patient - fortunately, years of teaching have granted him the patience of a saint - and let it pass. He shouldn't have asked Storm to drive him there, and he vaguely considers asking her to turn around and go back, but she's already gunning the engine up the entrance ramp to the Interstate.

"And besides, you said yourself that this prison won't be able to hold him forever," she goes on, still angry. "You've been trying to locate his headquarters for years, and this is your chance is to finally find out. You could find out anything."

Anything. He has to admit, the idea is vaguely tempting... although not for the reason that Storm thinks. If he ever entered Erik's mind again, the first thing he would find out wouldn't be What are your plans for the Brotherhood? or Where is your operating base? No, it would be something else entirely.

Do you ever miss me, Erik? Do you remember when we first met, when you were going after Shaw's submarine and I jumped in the water after you? Do you remember when I told you there was more to you than just anger and pain?

But he won't do it. He couldn't. He's too afraid of what the answers to those questions might be. And besides, no matter what might happen between them, he could never violate Erik by reading his mind without his consent. Just the thought of doing so is almost enough to make him sick.

Storm must sense that she's said something wrong when he doesn't answer, and she looks over at him in the passenger seat. Her brow furrows, puzzled, beneath her white bangs.

"But I thought... that was the whole reason..." she fumbles, then starts again. "Well, if you're not going to read his mind, then why are you visiting him at all?" she huffs.

Charles pauses before he answers. He still thinks of Storm, Cyclops, and Jean as his students, his children. He still feels like it's his job to protect them. He's never been able to explain to them how much Erik really means to him; he's never even tried - and he certainly isn't about to now. They only ever call him Magneto.

"I don't always have to read Erik's mind to know what he's thinking," he says softly, surprising himself a bit with this admission. It's true - it's always been true about him and Erik - but he's never told anybody before. "Sometimes just getting a good look at his face is enough."

Storm moves into the left-hand lane to pass a slower car, shifting uncomfortably in the driver's seat as she works the pedals. Her shoulders tense, and Charles knows that it's disturbing to her to hear him talk about Erik in this intimate sort of way. Now she's probably sorry that he asked her to drive him there, too.

Charles's fingers trace the seam of the leather briefcase in his lap. Inside is the plastic chess set that had was just delivered to the mansion yesterday. Erik knows that he's coming, but he doesn't know that he's bringing this. Charles wants to surprise him with it.

"Besides," he says cheerfully, trying to lighten the mood, "you can tell a lot about a person by the moves they make in chess." He taps the briefcase and looks out the window. It is a long drive to Washington, but he's made much longer trips for Erik's sake.

.

.

Storm never says so, but she clearly disapproves of their Professor paying visits to the team's enemy. So the second time he goes to see Erik in prison, he asks Jean to drive him there. She, at least, doesn't expect him to invade Erik's mind without permission. She understands, because of her own telepathic abilities, what kind of a betrayal that would be, and she knows that Charles isn't capable of something so cruel. In a way, out of all his X-Men, Jean is the most like him.

There's another reason why he asks her, too. Jean is still a bit raw, a bit different, since what happened at Liberty Island - they've all noticed it - and Charles is hoping that the long drive will calm her mind. At first, it seems to. Jean munches on a bag of trail mix she bought when they stopped at a gas station before pulling onto the Interstate and hums along with the songs on the radio. Charles is grateful that Scott has been unable to infect her with his liking for 'N Sync.

Jean's favorite radio station becomes staticky, then garbled, then lost completely outside Albany. She fiddles with the dial, frustrated, then shuts the whole thing off completely. They drive in silence for some time, and Charles doesn't need to read Jean's mind to tell that she's thinking before she speaks, like she always does, choosing her words.

"You know, Charles," she says at last, "I'm not sure I understand why you're doing this. Are you expecting - Magneto to tell you something?" There's a hesitation in her words before she calls Erik Magneto - just the slightest pause, but Charles catches it.

"No," he answered quietly, with a sort of sad resignation in his voice, "not particularly."

Jean is obviously wondering Then why? but he's grateful when she doesn't ask the question. Before, he honestly didn't know what he was expecting; now, he's just clinging to a rather desperate hope that this visit will go better than the previous one.

Charles sighs and glances out the window. They're traveling due west now, following the path of the morning sun as it climbs the sky. He allows himself to remember, briefly, his previous visit with Erik. His old friend had been angry and terse, shutting down all Charles's attempts at conversation. And even though he had sat perfectly still on the other side of the table where Charles set up the chess set, something in his manner made him think of a trapped animal, pacing the length of its cage.

That night, Charles's old dream had returned in full force - that awful nightmare where he was swimming after Erik in the cold, dark water behind Shaw's submarine, but instead of pulling him to the surface, he watched him drown. That dream hadn't haunted his sleep for a long time before that night, and when he woke up the next morning, he felt older and more tired than ever before, as the heavy realization sank in that after all these years, he was still trying to pull Erik to the surface.

"Do you really think it's safe?" Jean asks, gently interrupting his thoughts. She had sensed that his mind was somewhere far away, and wanted to bring him back; Charles is grateful to her for that. "You're a very powerful mutant, Charles. So is Magneto. And our government is very fearful. When the two of you are in that cell together, it just seems like an invitation for them to do something... drastic."

She has a valid point, but Charles reminds her calmly, "They don't know I'm a mutant. If they did, I never would've been allowed to visit." Even without anyone finding out that he was a mutant, he had had to jump through red-tape hoops of fire and modify the minds of several very important people to be able to visit Erik in prison.

"And you don't think he's told them that you're a mutant? You don't think he's told everything?"

"No," Charles answers immediately. He grips the arm rest to sit up a little straighter, still staring fixedly ahead at the traffic on the I-95, the road that will lead him to Erik. No matter what might happen between them, Erik would never betray him that way. "No, I don't."

.

.

The third time he visits Erik in prison, he asks Scott to drive him there. And immediately, there's a feeling of relief. He's finally gotten it right. Scott is such quieter, easier company. He doesn't ask Charles any questions about why he's doing this, he doesn't try to talk him out of it, and even if he does disapprove, he keeps that opinion to himself.

"Jean told me this was a long drive," Scott says casually, settling back into the van after their first pit stop. "She wasn't kidding."

Charles smiles a brief, wry smile. "Well, I suppose she wanted to warn you about what you were getting yourself into."

Scott laughs at that, but like Charles's smile, his laugh is brief, fleeting, before he turns serious again. "Yeah, but I think she's... concerned about you, too. I mean, it's a pretty long trip for you to make." And you have to transfer yourself from your wheelchair to the car, from the car to wheelchair, so many times, then pass through all those security checks at the CIA.

And you seem so depressed on the drive back. Seeing him in prison is so hard for you. This was never what you wanted.

Charles pulls away from those thoughts as if he'd touched an open flame and says calmly, "You needn't worry yourselves over me, Scott. I'm not so old and feeble yet."

Scott smiles a bit, relaxing again. "Jean didn't get it. It was weird. I mean... I thought she'd get it. You're both telepaths. I told her, 'Baby, he can't just give up on him. He wouldn't be Professor X if he ever gave up on anyone.'"

Charles smiles, his spirits lifting, his confidence rushing back at him, as Scott's words find their mark. Yes, that's it - that's who he is, and that's why he keeps making going to visit Erik, all wrapped up in those simple words.

Scott understands, so Charles doesn't try to explain to him that this trip is relatively short. The only time that Erik had ever given him permission to read his mind, that journey had been much longer. It was like plunging the depths of a bottomless black sea, digging through so many years of so much anger and pain, before he found a memory that wasn't unhappy. He can still remember what relief he felt when he finally glimpsed, through all those dark thoughts, the faint, peaceful glow of the Hanukkah candles, in an old childhood memory that Erik had buried long ago.

Somewhere, in the back of Erik's mind, they were still burning. If Charles had found them once, then he could do it again. The journey was not too far.

FIN