Years passed by in a series of events so contradictory, confusing and relentless that it can only be described as life. Charles lost his hair, and his anger, mellowing into a role model for many. Erik embraced himself, lived as the villain he'd always been fighting, waging the war he'd always believed in.

It wasn't what they had wanted. What they had really wanted was peace, the ability to live quietly and safely, without fear. But that had not been given to them. The two men went from fight to fight, sometimes with each other, sometimes against each other. So, no, this wasn't what they had wanted all those years before, when they were still young enough to dream. But somehow, this was ok.

Those feelings they had admitted only to each other, only in secret, never left. And, in comparison to what they had once feared would happen, a lifetime without ever seeing each other again, this friends/enemies relationship was enough.

Things were, despite how they might have appeared, better when Erik was in prison than they had been in a very long time. At least there they could both drop the pretenses. Charles would visit and they would play chess and, if they tried really hard, they could forget about everything else and just be them again. They would discuss current affairs and Charles would try, as he always did, to convince Erik to join his side of things. But Erik couldn't do that, it wasn't who he was, and it broke both of their hearts, old and scarred as they were, to know that Erik would eventually escape and they would lose this small refuge. But, in time, they would move past that conversation and they would focus on the game, and both of their minds would stray far from there, back through time to that study, before everything changed. Just for a short while, while they played that game, they were themselves again. No Magneto, no Professor, just Charles and Erik and a dream that time would stop and they would stay there, just the two of them, forever.

Chess became a time capsule, a glance back into a past that could never have lasted, a few days when they were lovers, nothing less but so much more.

So, yes, chess was a great pleasure for Charles, simply because of the intimate knowledge needed of your partner's mind and the rock-solid logic it needed if played truly brilliantly. But also because it was his last piece of Erik, and Erik's last piece of Charles.

They could be on two completely opposite sides of a war, but they would always have this.

Always.