This fic was launched by watching the movie twice in a very short time while on vacation in Canada – with no computer! I actually handwrote twenty pages because I became obsessed. In a good way. A very good way ;)
We all know how their futures turned out to be, but what if something, a tiny, tiny moment, had been different?
And since I didn't want to make it a complete AU, this story developed.
I know next to no X-Men comics, so this is solely based on the movie First Class, my interpretation of things, and what I did with the characters is hopefully not too bad.
x x x x x x x x x x x x x xx x x x x x x x x x x x x xx x x x x x x x x x x x x xx x x x x x x x x x x x x xx x x x x x x x x x x x x xx x x x x x x x x x x x x xx x x x x x x x x x x x x xThe change in the weather had come suddenly, rather abruptly, and many had been surprised, despite weather forecasts and thunderstorm warnings. Heavy rain soaked the landscape, had people flee into their homes or stay at work longer than they normally did. Air traffic was suffering under the poor visibility, the sudden gusts of wind, and the lightning strikes.
For the students at the Xavier Institute in Westchester, New York, outdoor activities had been cancelled. Many had retreated to their rooms to study, listen to music, read, or watch TV. Some had gone down into the training facilities. The teachers were chaperoning those activities with watchful eyes.
The huge mansion was surrounded by an expansive forest, which was currently a mud bath that included low hanging clouds that could be called fog. Visibility was poor. The bad weather front had the area in its grasp.
Dr. Hank McCoy didn't care about the weather one way or the other. Down in his lab, surrounded by machines that most people would call futuristic, he worked on one of his many projects. The students knew not to disturb him and even if one forgot, the lab was secured and a bright red lamp warned them of dangerous experiments in progress. Hank didn't take any chances. His mutation allowed him to move much faster than most kids and he knew what his experiments were about and what they could do. The kids didn't.
He almost smiled.
Some might call him nothing but a kid, too, but he had grown up fast and hard. Not much older than many, he was still called 'Dr. McCoy', not 'Hank', and was given respectful looks.
When the alarm went off, a soft bing-bing noise, he looked up with a frown. It wasn't the screeching of imminent explosions, just a warning. Hank walked over to the shelf where he kept his prototypes and frowned when he took one particular down. Huge, blue-furred hands handled the delicate looking device with care and dexterity. He had created the device, but it had never been tested, mainly because what it should read had yet to occur. The design had been based on theories, on wild speculations, and it had been more of a way to pass some time, to tinker and create, than to actually try to…
For it to react now - Hank checked the read-outs once more, then called the Professor.
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It was raining.
Coming down in sheets, saturating his clothes, plastering his hair to his head. It was a cold rain that immediately cooled down his body and had him shiver. Water mixed with the blood running liberally from the head wound. Cradling his left arm he stumbled through the wooden area, feet squelching in the mud. He finally made it into an open area and leaned against a tree, blinking watery blood out of his eyes. More blood dripped from deep slash wounds on his hand and arm.
Before him stood a mansion, lit up, a bright beacon in the night.
He blinked again.
He knew that place. He was intimately familiar with it and the grounds it stood on.
But how…?
His concussed brain tried to find a logical explanation, but all he felt was pain and confusion and the ever-spreading cold. He was exhausted and close to a collapse.
The last thought before something heavy slammed into his side was 'Oh, fuck!', then there was only blackness.
Rain and mud washed over the prone man, squelched under the feet of those coming closer. He didn't see or hear anything at all anymore.
x x x x x x x x x x x x x xx x x x x x x x x x x x x xx x x x x x x x x x x x x xx x x x x x x x x x x x x xx x x x x x x x x x x x x xx x x x x x x x x x x x x xx x x x x x x x x x x x x x
Charles Xavier looked at the man who lay on the examination table, dripping water from dark hair that was plastered to his skull. Blood mixed with mud obscured most of the features, but not enough that he didn't immediately recognize him.
No, not him.
It couldn't be him.
Hank walked over to his patient, running scans, grunting to himself. He looked both puzzled and excited.
Charles reached out with his mind and encountered something akin to a slippery block of ice. He had tried reading the unconscious man's mind the moment he had been brought in. An automatic reaction triggered by the sight of someone who looked exactly like Erik Lensherr, a man who only called himself Magneto now.
But this man… No, it couldn't be. A lot spoke against it, starting with the fact that Hank claimed that an inter-dimensional rift had opened and this man was a visitor from a parallel world. Hank was adamant about it. Xavier tended toward believing him. Because even if the gizmo was wrong, more facts didn't fit.
This man looked younger than the Magneto he knew. He looked about the age of Erik when they had last seen each other as friends, when Charles had lain in the sands of the beach, suddenly aware that the bullet Erik had deflected and that had hit him had left him paralyzed. This Erik also wasn't wearing the helmet Magneto used to hide from Charles. He was clothed rather mundanely in black pants and a black sweater. None of his mutants had been sighted anywhere near. They would never allow their leader to be captured alone. And why would he come to Westchester anyway? And who had wounded him this badly?
Xavier watched as Hank cleaned the man, removed the clothes that were nothing but rags anyway, examining the labels and grunting again. Underneath the wet and dirty clothing was a well-trained, lithe body with scars that showed his past. Some were old and Charles had seen them on Magneto, Erik, when he had stripped off his wet clothes the first time they had met. Others were new.
Hank removed something out of a pocket, eyes growing wide.
"Professor…"
In his open palm lay a deformed bullet.
Charles froze and for a moment he felt a phantom pain in his back where years ago a similar bullet had taken part of his life and destroyed a friendship. He reached out and took the tiny metal object, very much aware of what it was. He had the same bullet, deformed and cleaned of his blood, in his study. Locked away. A reminder of a moment in his life when everything had changed.
This Erik was carrying it with him.
Why?
Behind Hank, on a large screen, read-outs continued. The examination table was equipped with pressure points and sensors that picked up heartbeat, breathing, pulse and even analyzed brain waves. It was nothing you could find in any hospital anywhere. Just looking at the low readings told a watcher everything about the new-arrival.
A new-arrival who was in a bad, bad shape.
Looking into the sharply defined face, Charles wondered, if the parallel dimension theory was true, whether this man had become Magneto as well or if had chosen another path. He tried touching his mind once more, but again he wasn't able to get a grasp. It was as if the parallel Erik's brain was out of alignment, as if it existed on a different plane that Charles was unable to step onto.
Curious.
And it only undermined Hank's theory of a dimensional rift.
A soft groan came from the pale lips and suddenly gray eyes blinked open. The same pale color as Magneto's, but filled with clouded confusion. Pain reflected immediately and they were screwed shut once more. Erik rolled onto one side, protectively around his injured arm that Hank had just bandaged, breathing harder. Tension built up in the lithe body and tremors raced through him.
Charles held up a hand as Hank wanted to come closer.
"Professor…"
At the sound, the eyes snapped open again and fixed on McCoy. Their visitor froze for a second, then sat up so abruptly, Charles was afraid he would fall over. For a brief second Erik seemed to just want to do that, his face twisting with agony, a barely audible moan escaping him, then the control was back and the cold features were a sharp reflection of the man Xavier had met years ago. A man he had wanted to call a brother and a friend. Someone he had lost to his demons, his anger and pain.
Despite being in no shape at all, the danger this Erik radiated was as palpable as it had been in Magneto the first time they had met. This was a mutant who was very well aware of what kind of a deadly weapon he was. Erik Lensherr had ruthlessly killed those who had tortured and killed his parents, his people, and who had unleashed his potential through suffering and a pain so deep, Charles had been struck speechless the first time he had seen and felt it.
One finger twitched and Xavier saw a tool on Hank's desk rise slightly. If he hadn't known about Erik's power, he wouldn't have seen the movement. But he did and he knew things were starting to get dangerous.
"Who are you?" Erik demanded, voice cold, controlled. He didn't seem to mind that he was almost completely naked.
"My name is Dr. Hank McCoy," Hank replied cautiously.
"Liar."
Xavier frowned. That was unexpected. Of course it confirmed that Hank McCoy existed in this man's world, but it also threw up a few more questions. Had he existed and perished? Did he exist, but not in the form he did here? He would have loved to know the history of the other dimension before confronting this man.
Hank glanced at Xavier.
Erik did, too. And froze.
His eyes widened, then a harsh line settled around them. It spoke of his bad condition that he hadn't been aware of Charles before.
"Who the fuck are you?" he repeated, slipping off the table.
Silent alarms went off as the sensors no longer registered anything and interpreted it as a medical crisis. Holding himself upright with his right hand. Erik forcefully locked his knees, body so taut, Charles was afraid he would snap something. Only willpower was holding him upright right now; and he had a lot of that. He had been trained to endure pain, go without sleep, or sleep when he had to. He had been turned into a perfect weapon, a human weapon, and he could strike even when his body was shutting down.
"I think you know who I am," Xavier replied, taking a gamble on the recognition he had seen flash through those eyes. "Charles Xavier."
The sharp features hardened, the lines deepened. "Liar. You might have taken his form, and that of Hank, but you're not them. Who are you? What kind of sick game is this?"
Close by, another scalpel twitched. Hank looked alarmed, but Charles told him 'no' through a quick telepathic touch.
"Professor…"
::No. Wait. Just a moment::
He was gambling and if all went to hell, it would end deadly, he knew, but if this man wasn't Magneto and if they could get through to him…
"Stop playing games," Erik snarled. "Are you in my head? Is this a projection?"
"I'm real, Erik."
It got him a cruel smile. "Right. I hate to tell you, but you got Charles wrong." He cradled his injured hand, leaning more against the table. "Probably took the wrong memory? Not so good at it." It was mocking, provocative, and Charles noticed how a lot more metal instruments now reacted to the rising power.
With the degree of injuries and the concussion Hank had predicted, this was taking a lot out of the other mutant.
"Wrong how?"
"Charles Xavier isn't wheelchair bound," Erik went on, gray eyes gleaming with mockery. "Too bad you can't keep reality from nightmares apart, buddy. So whoever you are, drop the act!"
Charles froze. His breath lodged in his lungs. The words replayed over and over, and he wasn't even aware of Hank moving closer. The scientist was stopped by a sharp scalpel hovering not far away.
"One more step and we'll find out if projections can bleed," Erik hissed. "Now drop the act!"
"It is no act. In this world," Charles heard himself answer, "I am in this chair."
The taller man froze. "This world?" he repeated.
"You were trapped in what appears to be an inter-dimensional rift. It opened up approximately five-point-two hours ago and you were found by two of our students. I believe that whatever caused your injuries was also responsible for this displacement?" Hank spoke up, voice measured and careful. Yellow eyes held confused gray ones.
It seemed to sink in quicker than Xavier would have anticipated. It also confirmed that the inter-dimensional rift was a possibility this man had been confronted with before.
"Cracks," Erik said weakly. "Rifts. I'll skin that kid!"
The scalpel trembled, then lowered a little.
"Fuck!"
He started to sway.
"Little bastard!"
Charles had no idea who he was talking about, but now the theory was no longer a theory. It was a well-cemented fact that something had pushed this man through a portal and he was aware of it.
Before either Hank or Charles could react, Erik suddenly doubled over with a pained cry. The metal objects that had been poised defensively clattered to the ground or suddenly stilled on the tables. The cry transformed into a scream of agony and Erik fell to his knees. His shape seemed to suddenly blur, like a bad TV reception, and went in and out of focus. The agony in the narrow face was palpable.
"Hank!"
McCoy had grabbed a scanner and the inter-dimensional rift sensor was screeching.
Then things went abruptly silent.
Erik lay on the ground, unconscious, his wounds bleeding again, and looking solid once more.
And suddenly, Xavier could touch the other mind.
tbc...