Forgiven

Disclaimer: I do not own anything in this story. All references to X-Men: First Class belong to Marvel and Fox.

Summary: Inspired by the song "Forgiven" by Within Temptation. After the death of his oldest friend, Erik Lensherr returns to the one place he thought of as home to pay his final respects, only to learn that Charles was waiting for him all along. *Note* If you have never heard this song before, I suggest you listen to it at least once…it's heart-breakingly beautiful.

Rating: PG-13

Author's Note: Despite the fact that the song this story is based off of is a love song, this is not a Charik. I do not write slash. In this story, Erik and Charles were good friends and thought of each other as brothers, nothing more.

Xavier Institute for Gifted Students…Westchester, New York… August 2003…

It was amazing how little the house had changed in the last forty years. Oh, there had been some changes in order to convert the stately mansion into a proper school. Basketball and tennis courts had been added, a small parking lot – cleverly screened from view with hedges and rose bushes – had been put in near the front of the building, and he could see several satellite dishes on the top of the building…but the main body of the house was relatively untouched. He wondered if the same was true on the inside, but then realized that it wouldn't matter. The biggest change had already happened, but it wasn't a change that could ever be reversed.

Not since Charles Xavier had died.

The man who had dedicated his life to his students, to helping make the world safe for mutants and humans to live in peace; the man who had been the driving force behind the Institute was gone – and without him, the school would never be the same. And that thought hurt him, deep in his soul.

Erik stood at the wrought-iron gates of the school, looking through them at the few students who were crossing the lawn. At one time in his life, he'd thought that he would be here, alongside Charles, helping to train and teach mutants to control their powers safely – until Shaw had unleashed his plan to start World War III and exposed them to the public. Shaw's plan might have been stopped, but the damage had been done, and with it, any hope he might have had for living a peaceful life with a man who had been his best friend and the closest thing he'd ever had to a brother.

He had been there when Charles had died, but he had not had the opportunity to do anything other than leave with Jean Grey so that he could carry out his goal. He hadn't bothered to come to the memorial service, since he would not have been welcome. But now – now that he had been "cured" and was no threat to the students – perhaps now he would be able to get the chance to pay his final respects to his dearest friend and mourn the loss of a man who had been a shining light in his dark world.

Pushing open the gate, he began to trudge up the drive, bitterly remembering a time when he would simply have manipulated the magnetic fields and flown up to the house. Now he was forced to approach on foot, humbled and beaten – and he knew he would be stopped long before he made it all the way to the mansion's doors. There was no way they would miss him, not with all of the security that was in place.

Indeed, before he had even made it halfway up the drive, he saw the mansion's door flung open and Wolverine came bounding out, full of righteous rage and bristling with protective instincts. Erik stopped and waited. There was no point in going any further, since Wolverine wouldn't hesitate to disembowel him if he tried to get any closer to the school without a damn good reason.

Wolverine ran right up to him. "You! What the fuck are you doing here?"

He scoffed. "I've come to pay my respects, nothing else. Your children and your team are in no danger from me, Wolverine."

"Get the hell off this property. You're not welcome and you have no business being here," the feral mutant ordered.

Erik knew he was risking his life, but this was something that he had to do. And that was why he didn't hesitate with his response. "No."

Wolverine growled low in his throat, and with an ominous SNICKT the adamantium claws extended from his hands. "I'm not going to warn you again. Get out of here or you'll be getting a taste of these."

"Logan!"

Storm and Beast raced out of the mansion at the first sign of the brewing conflict. They stopped alongside their teammate and glared at Erik, although neither showed any sign of wanting to attack. Yet.

"What do you want, Magneto?" Storm's voice was as icy as the frozen north wind that she could summon in a heartbeat. Her eyes were already beginning to pale as she prepared to summon nature's wrath to her aid if it proved necessary. The wind picked up slightly, blowing her long white tresses across her face, and he could see dark clouds beginning to form in the distance.

He knew his tone was bitter when he replied, but he couldn't help it. "I am no longer Magneto. That was stripped away from me along with my power." He glared at Beast, who had been the one to inject him. "It is ironic that when I first met you, you were trying to "cure" yourself, yet I am the one who ends up "cured" is it not?"

A growl rumbled low in Beast's throat. "What do you want, Erik?"

With an effort, he fought to keep control of himself, somehow hearing Charles' voice out of the past, reminding him to calm his mind. Charles would never have tolerated a fight like this on these grounds. The telepath would have frozen everyone, lectured them until they understood why he was displeased, and then released them to apologize and begin acting like mature adults. It would be so different without him now. "I have come to pay my respects to Charles and to mourn my only friend."

Beast's aggressive stance relaxed somewhat, although he still appeared wary as they studied each other.

Wolverine stepped forward, his claws coming up again. "I told you to get the hell out of here."

Erik didn't flinch. Less than a week ago, he could have picked Wolverine up by all of the metal on his bones and tossed him away as easily as he would have tossed a penny. But just because he could no longer manipulate metal didn't mean that he was going to allow the other mutant to intimidate him. Instead, he kept his eyes trained on Beast. "Please, McCoy. Grant me this one request and I will leave and never come back." Erik Lensherr didn't beg, had never begged for anything in his life, but this was something that he had to do.

Beast seemed to be looking for something as they gazed at each other, before he finally spoke. "Let him pass, Logan."

Wolverine whipped his head around to stare at Beast. "Have you forgotten what this asshole has done? What he did to Rogue at Liberty Island, or to the Professor at Alkali Lake? Not to mention Jean? The only way he's getting past me is over my dead body."

Beast snarled and grabbed Logan by his shirt front, lifting him into the air and giving him a very clear look at his fangs. "Back off, Logan, or you're going to get a taste of my claws. No one here knows better what Magneto did to the Professor than me. I was there the day it happened. But that was Magneto, not Erik. I'm the most senior of the X-Men here, and I am ordering you to stand down." He lowered Logan back to the ground before he looked at Erik again. "Come with me."

Erik was actually surprised by that reaction. The Hank McCoy he remembered had been fairly passive and mild-mannered. "It seems you finally set the beast free. I'm impressed."

Beast snarled again. "Don't mock me Erik. I am not in the mood right now, and I am not above ripping your throat out if you don't show a little respect." He turned and started to lead the way back towards the mansion.

"Hank!" Storm protested; her stance was still tense, as if she expected Magneto to attack while his back was turned.

Beast turned his head to look at the weather manipulator. "Charles would want this, Ororo. He designed this place to be a safe haven for everyone, mutant or human. Magneto is not welcome here, but Erik once called this place home, no matter how briefly." The blue-furred mutant closed his eyes for a moment before he looked back at her. "Trust me, Storm. Charles left instructions with me about this day. He knew it would probably come sooner or later."

Storm frowned. "He did?"

"In his…in his will. The envelope his lawyer gave me." Hank gave them a fixed, intense look. "I'll take care of this. You two make sure the children stay away from the garden and the Professor's office until Erik leaves."

Logan growled again. "You're gonna take him inside?"

"Logan!" Beast snapped, his temper getting the better of him. "It was what the Professor wanted. I'm just going to fulfill his last wishes."

Storm and Wolverine gave him skeptical looks, but finally nodded and turned back to the house to corral the children, even though Logan was still glaring at Erik, which the former metal-bender ignored. He was more interested in the fact that Charles had apparently planned for this day, if he'd left instructions about it in his will. He couldn't have possibly known that he would die going after Jean when she came back. Granted, Charles' telepathy was – or rather, had been, Erik realized with a flash of pain – so strong that at times it did seem like he was all knowing and foresighted, but Erik knew better. Charles' powers had been limited to the ability to read, communicate with, and control minds, including projecting illusions and astral projection. Granted, the sheer number of minds that he could control at one time was quite astonishing, as was his range, both with and without Cerebro, but he had not been all-knowing.

"Erik, I want you to understand something very clearly," Hank said as he started to head around to the side of the mansion. "I am only doing this because Charles asked me to. If I had any choice I would have thrown you out on your ass by now. As far as I am concerned, you gave up any rights you had to be here that day in Cuba."

"If you're looking for an apology, McCoy, you won't get it. I don't regret my decision and I still believe that I made the right one. I do regret what my decision cost Charles. I have never forgotten that day, nor forgiven myself for what I took from him."

Beast didn't say anything as they continued along the side of the house. Erik could see faces of the students pressed up against the window, watching him alertly, but he deliberately ignored them, wanting them to understand that he could care less about what they thought of him. He was more interested in comparing his memories of the mansion to the current layout of the grounds. Like the rest of the house, very little of the outside had changed. Erik recognized the familiar paths, the view of the lake. The giant satellite dish was gone, but he couldn't help the small smile that crossed his face as he remembered pushing Banshee off of it in order to get him to fly. Other than that, only some of the landscaping had changed – no doubt some of the shrubbery and gardens had suffered over the years as the hundreds of young mutants Charles had welcomed into his home struggled to learn control.

But just there…next to the stone railing where he and Charles had stood the last day before Cuba, an area of lawn between the railing and the house had been boxed in with a low hedge. In the center of the space two obelisks had been erected, made of the same creamy stone as the railing and the exterior of the house. The stone closest to him was mostly blank, although there was a bronze oval in the center that was simply emblazoned with a large X.

Erik stepped closer to the small memorial garden and studied the stone more closely. Underneath the bronze disk words had been carefully, yet skillfully carved into the stone.

Gone, but Never Forgotten

Armando Muñoz, 1962 – Darwin

Scott Summers, 2003 – Cyclops

Dr. Jean Grey, M.D., 2003 – Marvel Girl

Erik looked over at Beast, surprised, as he read the names on the stone. "You put Darwin's name on?" He still remembered the lanky young man who had been one of their first recruits. With a generally cheerful attitude, even regarding his special gift to adapt to his environment, Charles had had high hopes for the young man. It was unfortunate that Darwin had given his life to save Mystique, Havok, Beast, and Banshee from Shaw.

"It was Charles' wish," Beast replied, his voice thick. No doubt he also remembered the brave young man who had been the first casualty in their war. "It didn't matter that none of the students except for Alex, Sean and I knew him. Charles felt that he should be remembered, since we were never able to bury him. We never had a memorial stone up until we heard about Scott, but once we realized that Scott was dead, we knew it was something that we had to do…and there was no question that we also needed to add Darwin to it. Even though no one here will ever know the details of what he did, it's enough to know that as long as this stone stands, there will be some record that he existed, and that he was one of the first X-Men."

"How very like Charles," Erik said, but with no venom in his voice. In this matter, he had to agree. Darwin deserved to be remembered and immortalized as the first sacrifice in the war between humans and mutants. He bravely gave his life to save his fellow mutants, and for that alone, he should be honored.

His gaze went up to study the names again. "Does Havok know about Cyclops?"

Beast nodded grimly. "Of course. He's in England now, but we notified him as soon as we knew what had happened. We…we couldn't give him a body to bury, but we made sure that he would know that his brother would be remembered for everything that he gave to the team and the school. Alex is on assignment, and he couldn't get away to come to the memorial service, but he'll be here within a few days. We were only able to get a message to him because of the Professor's telepathy…but Alex still doesn't know about Charles…and I don't know how I am going to tell him."

"And Banshee?"

"He knows too. He and Alex are partners, working together for Interpol, so neither of them has been here yet."

Erik sighed. He knew all of this was simply a delaying tactic. He stepped past the first stone, over to the second one. Although it was made of the same stone, this one had a flattened slab in front of it, on which a small eternal flame burned. An oval disk similar to the first one was also placed on the stone, although this one held a relief of Charles' profile. Bright yellow marigolds had been planted along either side of the slab, and someone had left a single white rose next to the flame.

Beneath the bronze oval was the inscription:

Charles Francis Xavier, PhD

Founder, Headmaster, Teacher, Father

1932 – 2003

He was a shining light to the broken world he sought to heal.

Erik studied the simple, yet elegant marker. In every way, it was the epitome of the man and who he was. Simple, dignified, and sturdy. He couldn't believe that he was standing here however, yet the date on the stone spoke the truth. Besides, he couldn't deny Charles' death. He had witnessed it himself, after all.

McCoy had backed off, giving him privacy while not leaving him alone. There was no trust between them, after all. But Hank McCoy had known Charles for as long as he had, and understood the history between them.

Erik had never been one to show emotion. Shaw had seen to that forty years ago in the camps. The last time he had cried had been a few months after Cuba, when he had learned that the bullet had paralyzed Charles. But now he found himself sinking roughly to his knees in the grass in front of the marker.

"I am sorry, Charles. You have no idea how much I wish things had been different. I still believe that I made the right choice, but I wish that I could have convinced you to join me. You and I, working together, could have changed the world." He thought about the way Charles had died, killed by his own student. Charles had loved his students. They had been his family, as the inscription on the marker attested. "Of all the things I envisioned for the future, this is not the fate I would have wished for you, old friend. I honestly thought that we would get the chance to reconcile one day – that you would see that I was right."

For a moment, anger welled up in him. "You were a fool, Charles – a damned, idealistic fool!" He dug his fingers into the grass, wishing he had his powers so that he could mangle some metal and vent. "The humans feared us, tried to kill us, yet you didn't strike back! Why?"

He thought about their long struggle, from that day on the beach, through the years of trying to amass power and resources with the X-Men always there to stop him, to sending Mystique into the school with the toxin for Cerebro, to using Charles to kill the humans…

Ever since that day in Cuba, almost every single one of their interactions had been in a conflict of some sort. Although, after Cuba, Charles was rarely at the fights. It had almost always been the X-Men who had come in his stead. At the time, Erik had assumed that it was simply due to Charles' lack of mobility and his students' overprotective attitude where their professor was concerned.

But now he wondered if that was truly the case. It did seem as if every time he and Charles had met in person, he had usually ended up doing something to hurt Charles. Not physically, not since Cuba, but mentally and emotionally, and he wondered now if that was the reason that his old friend had sent the X-Men in his stead. Could Charles have been trying to avoid the pain of seeing him? Or could he have been blaming Erik all these years for deflecting that bullet into his spine?

Their last interaction – the day of Charles' death – Charles had seemed tense and upset when they met in front of the Grey house, and he had specifically asked Erik not to interfere with his goal of helping Jean and bringing her back to the mansion, yet Erik had been so caught up in his objective of trying to get to Jean first that he hadn't been able to keep himself from provoking the girl in order to sway her away from Charles. And it was only after the girl was angry, when Charles continued to talk to her, to try to convince her of his sincerity, that she had lost all control and killed him.

That realization struck him like a blow to the heart. It had been easy to say that Jean had been the one to kill Charles – after all, it had been her power that had gotten out of control and actually dealt the death blow. But he realized, staring up at the marker which was all that remained of his dearest friend, that he was to blame for Charles' death. If he hadn't provoked Jean…

He had never done anything except hurt Charles in the course of the years that they had known each other…and he had finally caused the ultimate hurt by triggering the events that had led to Charles' death.

I killed him…

That thought pierced him like a red-hot sword plunging through his chest and into his heart. Ever since the day he met Charles, the man had never been anything but kind to him, and how had he been repaid for his kindness? Disintegrated by one of his beloved students because Erik hadn't known when to back off.

"God, Charles…I never wanted to hurt you. You have to know that I never wanted to cause you pain. It seems that I always did, despite my best intentions. You were too good, too pure – and I have never done anything except cause pain to the people that I care about. My darkness touched you and destroyed you. I could say that you left me no choice, but that would be a lie. Just know that I always regretted it, even though it was necessary for the survival of our species."

For a long time – how much time, he wasn't sure – he simply sat in the grass, staring at his friend's marker, lost in his thoughts and memories. He didn't know what his life would be like now, without Charles. Even though they had been rivals – some would have called them enemies – there had still been a level of mutual support and respect between them, no matter how many times the X-Men had thwarted his plans. Charles' respect and friendship had been the one constant in his life since the day his mother had died at Shaw's hands in the camps. He honestly didn't know what he would do without it.

Finally, a blue-furred hand landed on his shoulder. He looked up to see McCoy standing there looking down at him. Despite any anger that Beast might be feeling over his presence at the mansion, the politician's face was – surprisingly – deeply sympathetic.

"I don't want to rush you, Erik, but there is something else Charles asked of me…and we cannot keep the students confined inside all day," the bestial mutant said.

"I'm not going to hurt the students, McCoy. There's no reason to keep them confined."

"You'll forgive me for being careful, considering our past interactions," Beast snapped. "It was less than two years ago that you came after Rogue after all." The furred mutant closed his eyes a pained look coming over his face. "I'm sorry. That didn't come out the way I intended. Just…come with me."

Achingly, Erik rose to his feet, cursing his old age and stiffening joints. He followed McCoy towards the set of French doors that were on the mansion side of the small memorial garden, but paused just before he stepped onto the portico. He looked back at the memorial and sighed softly. "Goodbye, Charles."

Turning away from the marker with finality, he followed Beast into the mansion. Even though his grief, he was pleased to note in a corner of his mind that there had been very few changes – some new furniture, new carpeting, modern appliances and conveniences in place of some of the things he remembered from 1962, like the large television instead of the small, boxy, black and white set.

McCoy led him through the casual sitting area and into what had quite obviously been Charles' office. It wasn't the small, upstairs study that Charles had used in the week before Cuba, where the two of them had sat and played chess late into the night, although there were many similarities. There were bookshelves along the walls, a fireplace, several comfortable chairs and a couch. The biggest difference was that instead of full-length, floor-to-ceiling bookshelves, the shelves here were all low in order to accommodate Charles' inability to reach high places.

Most striking however, and the thing that made him freeze in his tracks, was the sleek metal wheelchair that sat off to the side, near the window. It was achingly empty, a stark anachronism to the Old World comfort of the room and the lingering presence of the man who had filled it.

Erik had always wondered why Charles had chosen a metal wheelchair, given that he had been the one who had put a bullet through his back, crippling him for life. Had it been Charles' way of telling Erik that he didn't blame him? That he was still comfortable being around him, despite what had been done? Erik just couldn't comprehend how Charles could possibly not blame him.

"She didn't do this, Erik. You did." He flinched as he remembered the sound of his friend's pain-filled voice as he spoke those words.

The only time Erik had not seen Charles in that wheelchair had been during the months he'd spent in that plastic prison and the guards had provided a plastic one for the crippled professor to visit his friend – but that wheelchair had never seemed to fit. It hadn't been Charles.

Beast had moved over to a beautiful landscape on the wall behind the massive desk and swung it aside to reveal a safe before he realized that Erik had stopped dead in the doorway. He followed the former mutant's gaze and sighed as he realized what Erik was staring at. "I know how you feel, Erik," he said softly. "It's been so much a part of this place since the beginning, and seeing it empty hurts. But it felt wrong to just get rid of it, and everyone agreed that it belonged here, at least for the time being. When we decide who the new headmaster is going to be, we'll figure out what to do. It's just – it's going to be hard. Either Scott or Jean were the next likely candidates for the position, but they're both gone. I would do it, but my job in Washington won't allow me to, which probably means that the job is going to go to Storm. She'll do a fantastic job – the children love her and respect her. We're going to need more teachers, and…" he trailed off before he sighed again. "It's going to be hard for anyone to fill the void he left behind."

"He was an extraordinary person," Erik agreed softly, before he forced himself to step further into the room and close the door behind himself, although his eyes still lingered on that empty wheelchair.

Beast skillfully worked the dial of the safe and swung it open. "Yes, he was." He reached inside the safe even as he continued speaking. "He always considered you to be his friend, Erik, although I don't know why after everything you've done. However, he left me a letter and asked me to give this to you." He pulled out a medium sized box that was deeper than it was wide and set it on the desk. The box was neatly wrapped in brown paper and tied with a string, and Erik could see that there was a letter with his name on the envelope on top.

Beast closed the safe and painting and then extended the box towards him. "I don't know what this is, but you need to take it and go. You're no longer welcome here."

"What I did, I did for all of us," Erik said, not touching the box.

"You may believe that, but if you really had wanted to help mutants, you would have stayed with us and sought peace, not war." Beast all but shoved the box into his hands and then moved past him to open the door. "Go away, Erik."

There was nothing more that he could say to that, so Erik shifted his grip on the box as he turned on his heel and left the mansion through the front door. He heard the door close behind him with a finality that nearly sent a chill down his back. This place was no longer his home – it hadn't been for forty years. He walked down the long drive; his head was held high, even though he felt like part of him had died as he knelt at that grave marker.

But he would never return to his house. It was part of the past, and could not be a part of his future. Not without Charles.

tbc...