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They sat upon the beach. Both men were silent. Waves lapped upon the shore, the ebb and flow of water caressing warm, golden sand as gulls screeched overhead. Neither of them had moved for the past two hours.
Not since the submarine when it had been plucked out of the water. Not since the missiles that had been stopped and sent back to those that had fired upon them. Not since the bullet that sent waves upon waves of metal ammunition falling into the sea.
Shaw's helmet was cast aside, landing with a pathetic plop near the water's edge. Erik had almost been too late to hear the last of Charles' thoughts. They found out on that day that a psionic's death could not be contained within its mortal shell, and the more powerful the psionic, the longer their final thoughts stayed imprinted upon the minds of those around them.
... Erik. Don't leave me here alone. Please.
The sound of Charles' mental voice was surprised and a little rough around the edges. Charles was afraid, panic weaving itself through each letter of his words as the darkness slowly crept in to claim him and taking him away from the people that loved him.
Charles never deserved this kind of end.
Erik rushed to Charles as his body toppled sideways upon the sand, the cry of his name tearing itself from Erik's throat as he almost tripped over his own feet in his haste to get to Charles. Gently, ever so gently, as if Erik could cause him any further pain, Erik cradled his friend close uncaring of the blood that was flowing. Two tears slid down Charles' cheeks without permission, cutting through the fine sand that dusted down the side of Charles' cheek.
"Charles! I'm here, Charles. Speak to me. Please."
But Charles was already gone the moment the bullet went through the side of his head, the compact metal making a tunnel between temporal bone to temporal bone. The echo of his voice inevitably faded away, no matter how Erik tried to grasp and hold on to it. He wasn't psionic in the least and it was an impossible task as Charles slipped through his fingers like water.
It only took an instant for someone to die, snuffed out like the fire of a lit candle for the rest of eternity.
Erik watched as the light faded away from Charles' blue eyes, feeling his heart clench as it refused to believe what his brain was telling him. He didn't even notice when Raven started crying or whatever Shaw's men were up to.
No one could have imagined this at the beginning, so focused on training and preparing for the moment. No one assumed the casualties would be theirs. Minor wounds, a few scratches or bruised ribs here and there, but not death. No one could have foreseen that it would be Charles; sweet, beautiful, beloved Charles.
Such was the short lived mortality of human life, even for those with powers. There was always a price to pay in war.
The bullet from the human's gun did this, Erik's mind snarled as his head whipped up to glare at her. She needed to pay for what she did to Charles.
He thrusts his hand out into the air and slowly closed his fist, watching with a disinterested air as he slowly cut off the air to her lungs with her own dog tags. This was justified murder. Shaw killed his parents and so must she for doing the same to Charles.
She died with her hands wrapped around her throat, struggling to breathe.
And yet her death felt hollow, like an empty victory. It paled in comparison to Charles and the bright flame that he was, that made everyone flock and flutter to him.
Footsteps approached him, timid. Had he failed to teach them to become bolder, more accepting of their powers and to be proud as a person? Had he failed them like he had failed in protecting Charles? Not that Charles required Erik's protection.
"Erik." It was Sean. Of course it would be. The young man had more courage and was far more intelligent than anyone ever gave him credit for. "We've come to a temporary truce with Azazel, Janos and Angel. How are you doing? We should-"
"Take everyone back to Westchester," Erik's voice croaked out, infused with grief.
"What about Shaw and M-Moira?" There was a small quaver in Sean's voice. Erik had noticed that she had been sweet on him but had never acted upon her feelings, stating he was still far too young for her. "What about the Professor?"
It was a good question and hearing Sean use Charles' nickname hurt. What would Erik do with the bodies? What he does best. Erik shook his head quickly, squeezing his eyes shut to dispel those memories, beating them into some semblance of submission and away from the forefront of his mind.
Erik cleared his throat and turned to look down at Charles, blue eyes ever so piercing despite the cloudiness that was starting to set in. "I will take care of it."
"Okay then," Sean replied slowly. "What about you after that? We still need you."
Erik looked at Sean then. "I have things to take care of and have no intention of looking after anyone." That had always been Charles' department but now that Charles was not here, who would tend to his wayward sheep? It doesn't fall upon Erik's shoulders to coddle the children. "What you and the rest of them do is your own business now."
He turned his face out to the sea, where the ships were slowly sailing away from view. "Live your lives as you choose to and never with any regret."
Sean looked baffled for a minute until realisation settled in his features; the clever boy would understand. He tried to plead once more, "We need you, Erik. There has to be another way."
Erik shook his head, stubbornly refusing to look away from Charles or say another word until the beach became silent and abandoned with the curl of sulfurous smoke; grooming Charles' hair into some semblance of dignity. There were thick clumps matted with blood that was quickly drying; Erik chose to ignore the small fragments of what could only be bits of skull.
"It's just you and me now, Charles," Erik quietly said to the dead man in his lap, his blue eyes more a reflection of the sky than its own colour. He plucked the gloves off his fingers and moved to close them and hesitated for a second, letting his hand brush the sand off of Charles' cheek instead.
Not yet, just a little moment longer. Charles could still be alive if Erik believed the lie. He could pretend that the perforation through Charles' skull never happened.
"It's okay, Charles. You'll be fine," he said as he petted the soft strands slowly. "I know you're tired, so you just stay there and listen. I'll do all the talking for the both of us." Erik stubbornly kept his eyes on the horizon, keeping guard just in case the ships ever decided to return. It would be several hours later until Erik could no longer see the ships, mere specks on the horizon.
"My only regret was for you to have died. We never saw eye to eye, but I loved, no, love you." Erik cradled Charles close until he could feel Charles' head loll against his shoulder as if he was being indulgent of Erik's actions like that one morning somewhere in Kentucky or perhaps it was Tennessee, after they had fucked leisurely and lazed around in bed for hours after. Charles had been radiant, the glow and flush of many orgasms suited him, and Erik remembered that he had never seen anything more beautiful than that.
Bending at the neck, Erik moved slowly until their lips were pressed together, his still warm against Charles' cold ones. He could pretend they were now in Russia, where Charles' coat was doing a pathetic job at keeping him warm despite the multitude of layers that he had been wearing that day. Erik was just doing his duty by warming up Charles' face with a series of kisses, the laughter that bubbled from Charles replaying from memory.
"I remember when I asked you why you had jumped into the waters when we first met. You said I had a beautiful mind that you couldn't help be attracted to; that the ocean shouldn't take it away so soon. What was it you said?" Erik looked down at Charles with a small broken smile, quoting, "The flame that burns twice as bright burns half as long. You and I, Charles, we were meant to slowly fade away."
It was useless to think that he could delude himself any further. That he hadn't just watched as the light went out from his eyes, that he hadn't listened when Charles' breathing slowed and finally stopped or that he hadn't felt the way Charles trembled in his arms, his pulse fluttering feebly beneath Erik's fingertips that faded away into nothing as rigor mortis finally set in.
Shaw was dead. The human was dead. Charles was dead.
All of them were done by Erik's hand and it was blood that would never come off, stubbornly clinging at the skin on his palms.
Erik couldn't stop replaying that moment in his mind as he caressed Charles' pale cheek with his hand. He could have stopped the bullet instead of deflecting it. He could have disassembled the gun before the human could fire the shot. He could have used another piece of metal as a shield. Anything but change the trajectory.
A million different scenarios that could have saved Charles' life and each permutation could not change the truth nor bring back the dead.
"Charles, I could have-" Erik stopped in the middle of his sentence, uncertain of how to finish it. Charles stared back at him accusingly. "I am sorry."
Had Charles lived, Erik wondered if the human would have suffered by his hand. Perhaps Charles would have done something drastic physically when he realised that Shaw's helmet protected him from the use of telepathy. Perhaps they would have tussled on the beach, wrestling that would quickly become a battle of fists.
Erik would never know now.
When Erik finally returned to himself from his thoughts, the sun was beginning to set, a fiery golden yolk in the sky that was slowly slipping further and further below the horizon to grace another part of the world with its presence. There were billions of people on Earth and none of them could replace Charles; all of them unaware of the man that had died to save them all.
Erik liked to think that Charles was the better part of himself. But without Charles, without a goal in mind now that Charles was no longer part of the world and could no longer participate in his goals of showing the world mutant superiority, life was colourless. There would no longer be games of chess played into the wee hours of the morning; small teasing touches under the breakfast table as the kids watched on, oblivious to it all; intense looks that never failed to take Erik's breath away that generally precluded someone being slammed into the nearest solid surface and being kissed enthusiastically and thoroughly.
A world without Charles wasn't a world that Erik wanted to consider.
Just one more for the road, Erik thought as his lips descended over Charles' cold ones one last time. Erik squeezed his eyes shut and told himself to think about Charles' lips, flushed a vibrant, impossible colour and warm, swollen by the kisses he had stolen, and not blue, grey and unfeelingly cold.
The sun was setting, a golden yolk sitting upon the horizon. It was a sunset that Erik had never imagined living to see. He had never made any plans past killing Shaw, never thought of settling down even though Charles had gone to great lengths at being inclusive of making Westchester a place where mutants could live and hide and learn. It would be a place that they could run together.
The world was truly blessed to have had Charles, and Erik was the one that had robbed them of the brightest, sincerest person in Erik's acquaintance - not that Erik had met many people, but Charles would still be at the top of that list had he been less of a Nazi hunter and more of a socialite.
Erik changed his grip and slid his arms underneath Charles' knees and behind his shoulder blades lifting Charles’ limp body, in semblance of a bridal carry, as he struggled to his feet, swaying ever so slightly but remaining upright through sheer force of will.
He walked past his gloves and the helmet and out to sea, feeling the water rush into his boots as the waves licked at his ankles and lapped at his waist. He didn't feel the difference in temperature, the suit doing a fine job of insulating him from the cooler waters, the deeper he waded in. The sea consumed them slowly until Charles nearly drifted out of his grip when Erik stepped further into the depths.
Using the buckles and zippers of Charles' suit, Erik kept Charles magnetized in his arms, where Erik could keep Charles safe from the world. He looked down at Charles' pale face, his dark hair waving gently underneath the water's surface and eyes turning paler still in the dimming light.
"Come morning light, you and I will be together once more. I will never let anyone hurt you again," Erik vowed, his head cowed as if addressing the man in his arms. "I love you, Charles, and I hope you will forgive me."
The waves covered his shoulders and Erik didn't stop walking until waves began to wash over him, almost like he was being absolved of all the sins he had committed in the last twenty four hours.
Like Charles was telling him that all was forgiven.
* * *
Central Intelligence Agency
Office of Asia Pacific and Latin American Analysis.
12 November, 1962
Intelligence Report: Post-Cuba: Investigations and the retrieval of Agent Moira MacTaggart and [redacted].
Summary:
Geiger counter levels have stabilised and reached levels which aided the retrieval of Agent Moira MacTaggart and [redacted] from a beach off the East coast of Cuba at the co-ordinates [redacted]. Post-mortem examinations concluded the causes of death respectively being asphyxiation via strangulation and a perforating head injury.
On the beach was the wreckage of a nuclear submarine; and a stealth aircraft that had been developed under the surveillance of Agent Platt at his off-site facility. Both transports were found to have undergone severe weather resulting in corrosion due to exposure to both the elements.
Curiously, the helmet that had been seen in Shaw possession on the date of 29th June, 1962 as per surveillance footage was not to be found. Whether it was taken by the mutants or claimed by the sea, its whereabouts could not be determined.
Full Report Enclosed.