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He could have done it in so many different ways. Erik has had plenty of time to think about that, given his current state of imprisonment. Locked away for a murder that he didn't really commit was almost funny. Almost. After everything that he had actually done, he'd gone down for something he hadn't. This was just what he got for trying to do something good. And he could have done it in so many different ways that didn't end like this. Retrospect and hindsight were an unhealthy combination; who really knew if he could have stopped it happening? If he'd been a second faster with his thinking, would JFK be alive today? After all, he'd seen the sniper. He could have stopped him. He could have bent the gun so out of shape that it would never fire a bullet again! And then there was the guy's metal arm.
Erik really should have just manipulated the arm, have him fire into the sky or something. He'd been an idiot. But that didn't mean that he was just going to wallow in it. One day he was going to get out of here and when that happened, he was going to find him. He'd have his revenge on the ghost they called The Winter Soldier.
Really though, he didn't expect to escape solitary confinement as quickly as he did; how was he supposed to know he had a kid or that Magda had just happened to mention to that kid that his metal bending father was more than six feet under in the Pentagon's stone prison?
His first job when he was back on ground level? Find The Winter Soldier.
And he did.
From a distance, Erik watched as metal and flaming debris fell from the sky - between it, a man in torn, patriotic red, white and blue. Said man didn't resurface after hitting the water. It was the end for him. Erik even considered saving him but by the time he'd fully considered that, another man appeared, not falling but diving from the wreckage. The Winter Soldier? Erik watched the assassin drag the patriot to shore, where he then faltered and dropped to his knees to help clear the other man's lungs of water.
It made Erik think of Charles.
"Just because someone stumbles and loses their way doesn't mean they are lost forever."
So he continued to watch them, came to know them as Steve Rogers and James "Bucky" Barnes. Bucky was a fragile, amnesiac flight-risk... And Steve loved him.
He deserved another chance. Charles would agree. And that was really why Erik appeared to them and offered his services - not his personal services but he offered them Charles, explained to them what he could do, that he could look into his mind and maybe, just maybe, get through the mental block to release Bucky's lost memories. It was going to reveal a lot of terrible things, actions that Bucky would never be proud of, that he would regret for the rest of his life but he still needed to know who he was for the two of them to move on. It didn't even cross his mind that they would find Charles unwilling.
And it definitely didn’t cross his mind that when Hank answered the door, he would be met with a glare and the words, “Actually, I think you’re the last person Charles wants to see. He’s not here.” The door was then slammed in their faces, making both soldiers flinch and Erik to let out an exasperated sign. As if they actually thought they could lock him out. He put his hand on the doorknob, feeling for its mechanics and slowly shifted each block aside until he could twist and open the door for himself, marching both soldiers behind him and up the stairs before Hank could even get back into the mansion’s lobby. He ignored the calls of, “He’s not even here! Get out!” He knew Charles was here. He didn’t know how he knew but there always had been some unspoken pull between them, which the metalkinetic mutant chose purposely not to think about, even as that very bond let him to the man’s bedroom.
Charles sat upon the bed, robe not closed and clothes clearly not washed for weeks on his too lithe frame. He did not look up, preoccupied it would seem by something more sinister.
“So this is what has become of you, old friend?” Erik muttered. “I expected better.”
At his words, the needle in Charles’ hand fell and the leather strap between his teeth was dropped, causing the blood to rush back into his arm. There was a moment in which only silence passed between them and then Charles was out of bed, standing – swaying really – in front of him.
“What. Are you doing here?”
“I don’t think that’s quite the issue right about now,” Erik stated dryly, urging the two soldiers he had brought along to take a step back – which Steve did willingly, clearly sensing that something this private should be honoured. Bucky needed a little extra encouragement, which really only meant that Steve took his flesh and blood arm and dragged him back until the door could be closed upon them. Erik then returned his attention to Charles. “So this is what has become of you, the great telepath? I thought… You’re standing…” How had he only just noticed?
“Very observant of you.”
“How?”
“Hank’s serum reduces the pain in my spine and allows me to stand. Now if you’ll excuse me, I was in the middle of taking it.” Charles moved back to the bed, picking up the needle once more.
“I don’t need to tell you how little I approve. You can hear-“
“Nothing. I hear nothing. The serum also silences my mind. It is rather peaceful actually. No more voices… No more of other people’s suffering.” He laced the leather strap around his upper arm again, readying himself once again.
“You gave up your powers? All this time… All this time I’ve spent, believing in you, and you’re moping around in bed like some stoner, becoming… like them. Pathetic.”
The response from Charles is quiet. “You abandoned me. On that beach… you walked away.”
“I abandoned you? Oh, oh that’s, okay, that’s where we’re going with this, is it? What happened to you? Charles, what happened? Me? You’re going to let me destroy everything that you are? One stray bullet and you’re willing to give up on yourself, on us? You say I abandoned you. Charles, you abandoned all of us.”
Calling it a stray bullet may not in fairness have been the best of ideas but again, hindsight.
And Erik can see that he’s not actually getting through to Charles – or if he is, Charles is doing an amazing job of not showing it and really should go into acting if he insisted on abandoning the mutant cause. “Really, Charles, what happened to helping people? You’re locked away in this room, preaching the exact opposite of what you used to. It must be hard, hearing it all – every one of those screams of tortured mutants but without you, without us, those screams are just going to keep going on. Not hearing them doesn’t stop them Charles.”
“What… do you want, Erik?” Charles’ voice was broken slightly, his tone almost softer. Not enough for Erik to think yet that he was getting through. No, Erik knew he was being harsh… But Charles always had needed a firm hand.
“I want you to stop being selfish and be the man I used to know. Because that is who you are… not this… this simpering fool. How long until your abilities return without Hank’s drug?”
“A few days at most.”
“Right. It’s up to you, Charles. I can’t stop you taking it.” He could. He could bend all of the needles and stop it but even Erik thought that might be going too far. It would achieve nothing anyway; Charles needed to make the decision for himself – and for everyone else. “I won’t stop you taking it. By all means, if you are willing to let the world fall into turmoil, if you are willing to let our brothers and sisters fall because you could not find them in time, then take it. Until you make that decision, I’m going to be hanging around – restock your kitchen for a start. Hank clearly doesn’t take good care of you. You’re too thin. Oh, and if you choose to stop being an idiot, I have a man with me who could really use your abilities.”
He stood, making for the door, but of course he couldn’t just leave it like that when Charles responded to just the last part of his soliloquy. “Who are they?”
“Captain America and The Winter Soldier.”
The blank expression that followed from Charles was expected. “Not been keeping up with the latest news? I won’t get into the details. To call the long story a short one, both of them are from 1940 – go figure – one survived through being frozen and the other, kind of the same thing but the more scientific method. Bucky was cryogenically preserved and used as a weapon. He has no memory of who he was before. Or of what he’s done.”
Then Charles seemed to realise what was being asked of him.
“You bring to me the most troubled man you could find… and you want me to delve into his past and drag out his suffering? Help him remember it all?”
“Yes.”
“No.”
Again, Erik expected it. Charles was being stubborn. “As I said before, I’ll be hanging around until you change your mind.”
*
It was two weeks before Charles even ventured downstairs. Hank had gone up each day with food – since Erik had done as promised and stocked them with enough to feed two super soldiers and three mutants for a month – and with the drug. Erik didn’t know if Charles took it. Hank didn’t say and Erik didn’t visit Charles again. He had said all he needed to and it was up to Charles now.
Erik didn’t need to ask what his decision was.
Seeing Charles in the wheelchair was answer enough.
And yes, Erik would be lying if he tried to say he did not feel any guilt for it – the bullet, the pain, and now forcing him to take on the burden once more but he believed it for the best. Evidently Charles agreed.
“Are you just going to stare or are you going to help me down the stairs?” Charles cut through his thoughts in his same irritable tone. Erik smiled, merely lifting his hand and guiding the metal framed chair down the stairs smoothly.
“To be clear,” Charles continued, not thanking him. Of course not. “I’m not doing this because of anything you said – except for what you said of the two men. I am doing this because you made a promise to ‘Bucky’, was it?”
“Bucky, yes. He’s in the main living room.”
No more words were passed between them. Charles wheeled himself to the main room to ‘officially’ meet Steve and Bucky, introduce himself and explain himself.
“I do not know how well this will go or how long it will take. It has been some time since I last expressed my abilities and having never worked with you or even someone like you before – this level of amnesia. I can feel you doubting me now already… that’s normal. I am going to try my best.”
It was Steve who rose from his seat to shake Charles’ hand and thank him profusely. “Okay, relax, I haven’t actually done anything yet,” Charles pointed out, softening just a little. Having two regulars here was a little strange but so far there was nothing to complain about. Steve was polite. Bucky was… something else. He just hoped that he could help him.
“You might want to relax, Bucky.”
With Charles having said that Steve put his hand on Bucky’s shoulder, moving him to lie down. Bucky lashed out in the second after; he didn’t like it, being pushed down. He laid the rest of the way by himself, needing to feel as though he had the control; he knew he needed to relax not only his body but his mind as well and the latter could be difficult. Laying down and giving someone access to his mind wasn’t something that he was comfortable with.
And it hurt. Not just Bucky. As it flashed through the assassin’s mind, Charles saw it; the hands on his shoulders, forcing him down and giving him the bit to clench between his teeth. And then he saw the pain, the agony, the suffering and he visibly recoiled to take a deep breath.
“It won’t hurt that much, I promise. This won’t be like that.”
Bucky didn’t believe him. It didn’t take a telepath to see that. But as Charles went deeper into his subconscious, struggling through the pain, the murders, JFK – he glanced at Erik when he saw that but said nothing, not wanting to interrupt Bucky’s stream of consciousness – and then reached something entirely different, a chapter in Bucky’s life that could only be called one thing:
Steve.
Bucky smiled, at first just a slight twitch of his lip as things came trickling back in, just slow enough for him to cope with. Coney Island – “Remember when I made you ride the Cyclone?” – and their double dates and all the secret glances they had shared in those moments because both of them knew they would rather be on the date with each other… he saw moving in with Steve when his mom passed away and how he’d pretended to ‘take one for the team’ by sharing his bed when he got too cold or upset. He remembered working hard, three jobs at one point, just to make enough money to buy medicines that Steve couldn’t afford…
Hours later, Charles was exhausted. Bucky stood, rolling his shoulders to relax any seized up muscles.
And then he kissed Steve, slow and meaningful and he didn’t care that he’d never done it before. Now was a time of new beginnings. For him, for them, for Charles and for Erik, who merely placed his hand on Charles’ shoulder.
In a way, that was meaningful too.