So I'm reading the "House of M" saga at the moment – good stuff! – and am generally obsessed with a) the idea that the rest of the team and the Avengers, et al believe that Magneto somehow forced Charles to reveal everyone's fantasy of a perfect existence so that Wanda could make it all happen and is keeping him sequestered away somewhere to ensure that everything remains that way (even though they've been playing house on Genosha for several months together and Charles seems at least as torn up by Wanda's mental crisis as Erik is), and b) the infamous picture that gokuma originally showed me where it's implied that Erik spends pretty much all of his time mourning near the monument to Charles in his garden. This mostly concerns the latter; it was meant to be another fill for firstclass100's "Vision" prompt, but as usual, it spiraled rapidly beyond the 100-300-word ideal and kind of took on a life of its own.

Summary: Wanda's creation isn't perhaps as perfect as it appears.

Paradise Found

Wanda is pleased with herself for conjuring up the House of Magneto, where everybody lives their perfect life. "We're all so happy, Daddy," she murmurs, and Erik Magnus Lehnsherr kisses her forehead and closes his eyes sadly. "Aren't we?" she asks after several minutes, sensing his stiffness.

"We are," he says, but thinks, 'no, you got it wrong, so wrong,' and thinks about the monument to Charles Xavier in the dead center of the lush gardens, filled with the rarest and loveliest of all Genoshan fauna. He closes his eyes, willing tears not to form.

Wanda goes to bed quietly contrite that evening, and Erik stays up, ostensibly reading. Finally, his eyes are weary enough for him to flick off the lamp with a single gesture and retire to his rooms, alone; always alone, and so very lonely. Sometimes, he wonders whether there's some cosmic imbalance that prevents him from finding utopia; that, in order for everybody else's lives to be right, his must be just the slightest bit off. That night, he dreams in melancholy shades of blue.

Morning comes beautifully as it always does, and Erik rolls over … into a heavy lump that slightly depresses his bed. He blinks in surprise, sits up groggily … and gasps brokenly.

"Charles?"

Charles yawns. His blue, blue eyes open, and Erik feels weak. "How?" he croaks, afraid to move, afraid this is the same dream as always. Shakily, his hand reaches out to stroke the familiar bald head. Glancing down, he realizes that Charles is dressed in traditional royal robes, and that they fit him to a tee. "Can you – do you remember … anything?" Erik manages, and thinks it must be a bad sign that Charles hasn't reacted to him yet.

"So sorry … was still … waking up," Charles finally gets out. Erik continues to gawk at him, and Charles outright laughs at the tentative 'are you real?' that filters through Erik's head and into his. "I believe so," he says, mouth curving into a soft smile. He cocks his head as an image of his memorial floats into his mind, provided by Erik. "I don't think it's there anymore, Erik. I'm not sure I completely understand why I'm back, but …" He's cut off by Erik shoving him onto his back, wrapping the smaller man tightly in his arms and burying his face into Charles' neck. Embarrassed, he squeezes his eyes shut to block tears, but a few of them slip out nonetheless. Kindly, Charles does not comment on it.

Eventually, Erik manages to regain some composure. "Is it … are you in any pain?" he asks, glancing up. Charles shakes his head quickly.

"Again, my memories of my time … away … are fuzzy, but mostly, it felt like waking up from a very long nap." He flexes his leg muscles a bit, and Erik loosens his grip, elated to realize simultaneously that, in fact, Charles can walk here. Overtaken once more with emotion, he grits his teeth, trying not to outright sob.

"I'm sorry."

"Ssshh." Charles cups his face, and then wipes underneath one eye with the pad of his thumb, and then the other, his face arranged into a placid smile. Suddenly, a soft rumbling causes them both to look down. "I believe that's me," Charles says sheepishly, and is relieved to see Erik crack a smile.

"Are you hungry?" Erik makes to sit up, but a hand on his shoulder stops him. He watches Charles curiously as the other man presses two fingers lightly to his temple, a gesture so familiar that it makes Erik's chest ache. Charles' thoughts are to the kitchen staff, but he allows Erik to hear them: 'Lord Magnus will be taking breakfast in his rooms this morning. For two. Thank you.' He's barely finished relaying the message when he's pinned again, this time with Erik dotting his face with kisses. Their lips meet and pull apart sweetly, and Charles strokes at Erik's silvery hair. "Will there be consequences for this, do you think?" Erik frowns, his face suddenly etched with worry, threatening to unravel into fresh grief.

Charles strokes his face lovingly. "If there are, I suppose we'll deal with them," he says simply, his voice thoughtful. "We're together now, Erik. Forever. Whatever happens, nothing will change that again."

"Yes," Erik agrees, and Charles can feel his heartbeat when he presses a hand to Erik's firm, bare chest. Briefly, he thinks of Wanda and smiles blissfully against the side of Charles' face, savoring every texture, each breath that Charles takes. "Everything is truly perfect, now."