Scars

It was nights like this that Erik could not stand.

It was raining. The heavy droplets pattered noisily on the large bay-window, thunder clapping and lightning flashing, loud and bright enough to make the mutant cringe. He didn't like the rain. He didn't like the unsettling feeling it gave him in the pit of his stomach. It was a dreadful remembrance of the hell he faced in the concentration camps: up to his ankles in mud, handcuffed and forced to walk naked with the other prisoners, beat with a rifle whenever he did not follow orders (even for something as simple as not walking at an acceptable pace), and go days without anything to eat.

All of those things were minute in comparison to the torturous treatment that Schmidt put him through. He had numerous scars all over his body of various shapes and sizes, inflicted by knives, whips, barbed wire, and anything else Schmidt could get his hands on. There were several raised brands across his back, tiny nicks and imperfections scattered about his torso, criss-cross markings around his ankles and wrists, a sparse amount of more lengthy scars, and a small, elevated patch of skin near his collarbone where he'd failed at deflecting a bullet as a part of one of Schmidt's experiments.

Least to say, he got punished severely for that.

Erik exhaled deeply, instinctively reaching for his forearm, where six tattooed numbers resided. It was a grim reminder of his past. As small as they were, they ensured that he would never forget his time spent at the camps. But at the very same time, they were what drove him to continue pursuing Shaw.

His eyes slowly slipped shut, lolling his head back until he looked blindly up at the ceiling. His head was throbbing, and the uneasy feeling swam uncomfortably in his stomach.

Another crash of thunder made Erik grimace.

He redirected his gaze back at the fireplace, eyes flickering to the mantle where an old clock ticked silently. Almost eleven. He'd anticipated Charles would be done with whatever he was doing by now. However, it was always like him to get distracted with something else.

"Charles…" He thought, hoping to establish a connection with him momentarily.

Granted, they have only considered themselves a couple for a few days, and there were still a great many things that Charles did not know about him (because he agreed to not read his mind without permission), and this was one of them. His scars. It was a touchy subject, but it was only a matter of time before Charles would discover them on his own. He trusted Charles. Now, it was time to prove it.

The majority of the mansion was quiet. Though it wasn't late by his own preferences - he supposed, however, that he was not the right person to ask about time, since sleeplessness usually plagued him many nights of the week - a hard day of training had drained the young mutants of their energy, and it was very shortly after dinner that they'd all wandered off in their own directions. Even with the storm thundering outside and the rain lashing against the windowpanes, Charles Xavier hadn't heard much from the various bedrooms; when he reached out toward them, everything seemed peaceful.

It was nearly eleven, which meant it was high time for a chess match; he'd promised Erik he would be done puttering about the mansion by then and waiting for him in the library. As he strolled through the corridors and toward the upper levels of the house, a door had creaked open and a familiarly blonde, sleep-mused head had poked out into the lamplight.

"Charles?"

Raven. The storm must have woken her; as he turned to give her a warm smile, he was struck by the childhood memory of his own bedroom door opening in the middle of the night to reveal a much younger version of the woman standing before him now, a blanket and pillow clutched in her hand. She'd been absolutely terrified of the brilliant flashes of lightning and claps of thunder, an irrational fear that Charles had never understood but always sympathized with in some way.

He supposed that age had not diminished it - she was all wide eyes even now, her hands twisting the terrycloth ties of her bathrobe into knots as another burst of thunder made her flinch. He stepped toward her and wrapped an arm around her shoulders; the chess game would simply have to wait.

"It's only a storm, Raven." he said quietly as he led her back into her bedroom. "It will pass soon enough. Go back to sleep."

She mumbled something under her breath about not being scared and shot him one of those looks, and he had to laugh. "Why are you still awake, then?"

"It's not even midnight yet." This earned him a smile and a shake of her head, a half-groggy you're nuts that is never quite spoken aloud. "I still have a handful of chess games to win. But you, love, need to go back to bed."

"Old fart." Raven said around a yawn as she climbed back into bed, pulling the linens up around her shoulders. "Spending your nights playing chess before you're forty...really."

He tried his best to look offended as he seated himself on the edge of her bed, and in that moment, though she is nearly eighteen and already thinking of herself to be an adult, he allows himself to believe that she is still impossibly young and naive. "It's a very productive hobby -"

Charles...

Erik's voice drifted into his head as clearly as if he were the one sitting across from him and not Raven. His tone was mild enough, but Charles could feel the uneasiness radiating from the back of his mind. He wasn't in the library, Charles realized, but in his own bedroom; a frown tugged at the corners of his mouth, and he saw the brief flash of confusion cross Raven's features.

Is everything all right, Erik?

"- even if it is considered to be a hobby enjoyed by a much older group of people." He finished, delayed and slightly sheepish.

Erik idly tapped on the arm of the couch he was sitting on, staring absently into the fire as he awaited Charles response. Seconds slowly ticked by, and he took into account that Charles was taking longer to reply than normal. He knew nothing was horribly wrong, otherwise he would have known. There was also the possibility of Charles falling asleep, and not awakening immediately to respond. Or, he was preoccupied with someone or something else.

His eyes closed as another crash of thunder reverberated off the bedroom walls. He swallowed the lump of nervousness in his throat, then parted his lids. At that moment, Charles concerned voice rang through his head.

"Is everything alright, Erik?"

It was just like Charles to worry about him. It was his initial reaction to almost everything, not that it was entirely bad. He smiled a bit, making sure that showed through their link. He wanted Charles to be reassured that nothing was wrong.

"Everything's fine, Charles. At your earliest convenience, would you mind accompanying me in my bedroom?"

"Someone wondering where you are?" Raven asked around another yawn. Though he hadn't believed the intrusion to be obvious, he supposed that he really should have given Raven more credit - she'd been with him for years and knew things that he'd yet to share with many others. It shouldn't have been a surprise to him that she could tell when some interesting thought drifted into his mind.

Charles smiled again and leaned down to kiss her cheek. "Not quite." he said, skillfully avoiding the real answer to the question. Though he was still seated on the edge of Raven's bed, his mind was already wandering back to Erik. Anxiety pooled in the pit of his stomach and he shifted uncomfortably - there were very few signs of distress emanating from Erik's bedroom, but he was worried all the same. His mind was leaping to all the wrong conclusions, as it always seemed to do when Erik was concerned.

But then Charles felt his smile, and he breathed out a sigh of relief. He wasn't entirely sure why Erik wanted to meet in his bedroom - for though it was rightfully his, he respected Erik's privacy enough to stay well away from it.

Of course not. I'll be there as soon as I say goodnight to Raven.

He directed his attention back to Raven then, even though she was already drifting off. "Good night, Raven." he said quietly as he rose from the bed and turned off the lamp on the end table. "Try to get some sleep. We'll be training again tomorrow, you know."

"Good night, Charles."

He closed the door and paused for just a moment, listening as she quickly fell back asleep. Worry bubbled in his stomach again and he quickened his pace as he climbed the stairs to Erik's bedroom - it was only a matter of moments before he reached the closed door and he knocked only once, more as a greeting than anything else.

"Erik?" Charles said as he nudged the door open slightly. "Do you mind if I come in now?"

Erik hadn't felt the need to say anything more once he stated his request. His fingers idly played with a loose string on the arm of the couch, watching the minute hand creep into the quarter of the hour. The link between their minds quieted, and Erik was left again in the silence of his bedroom, save for the thunder continuously rumbling outside.

The rain showed no sign of letting up, but Erik did his best not to focus on that. The hard pitter-patter became increasingly difficult to ignore, so he tried to redirect his attention elsewhere.

Like, on Charles.

He leaned back into the cushions a bit, a slight smile tugging at the corners of his tired lips. Hearing that warm, British voice in his head was comforting. He knew that he was nothing but loved. He knew that Charles would never dream of hurting him. It may have been foolish, but Erik had the utmost trust in him. He'd managed to break the trust barrier he had with everyone else, in a matter of days. That was a feat of its own.

Almost three minutes passed before a single knock resonated off his bedroom door. "Erik?"-A slight creak of the hinges-"Do you mind if I come in now?"

Erik chuckled lightly. Did he even need to ask? "I am the one that asked you to come here."

There truly hadn't been a need to ask for permission - it wasn't as though he were inviting himself in with no proper warning. But Charles was regimentally polite if nothing else, and he paused for a moment in the doorway until Erik answered. He stepped inside and closed the door behind him, taking in the sight of the other mutant. Though he usually kept his face crafted into a carefully placated expression of passivity, Charles could tell that something was troubling him. He walked soundlessly across the carpet and stopped again by the couch Erik was currently occupying, flashing him an affectionate smile.

"Penny for your thoughts?"

Erik uncrossed his legs, then rising from the couch to walk over to Charles. "You didn't even have to read my mind to know that something was wrong." He praised sarcastically, but still a smile adorned his handsome face. Once Charles was at arms-length, Erik hooked his index fingers in the pockets of the other mutants navy blue cardigan, nudging him closer. "Am I that easy to read?"

The smile was there, but something else lingered behind it - he didn't miss the sarcastic edge to his tone when he spoke, though he was sure that Erik wasn't meaning to hide it. He'd promised Erik that he wouldn't search his mind without the other's awareness and permission, but it would have been so easy in that moment. His stomach turned again and he felt himself frown, even in the face of Erik's smile.

"Unfortunately you are, my friend." Charles said as the other man pulled him closer, using his own clothing against him. His arms settled around Erik's waist and he looked up at him, quirking a brow. "So would you like to tell me what's troubling you, or do I have to find out for myself?"

Truth be told, Erik had been trying to cover up his 'problem' with sarcastic humor, and it had evidently failed against Charles' superior intellect. His smile faded, and a frown tugged at his lips when he discovered that there was no means of escape from this conversation.

He didn't necessarily want escape, mainly because he was the one who made it obvious that he had something troublesome on his mind. His eyes shifted to the ground to the right of Charles, the carpet illuminated by the red-orange light of the flames from the fireplace behind them. "I wouldn't be opposed to you reading my mind, but you would probably find a lot more than you bargained for." He forced himself to smile once more, turning his attention back to the bright blue eyes staring up at him. It was easy to see that there was some sort of sexual innuendo behind his words.

Charles kept his gaze on Erik's face, even as the other looked away and turned his attention to a spot on the floor at his feet. He felt his own frown deepen and a crease formed between his brows - the unknown was killing him, he needed to know what was bothering the other whether he had to forcibly find out or willingly discover it.

"Oh, my friend, I don't think that would be quite so bad."

He smiled, though it didn't reach his eyes. Instinctively, he reached up to brush his fingers against the other's cheek, allowing his hand to splay against the back of his neck.

Erik unconsciously leaned into the contact, almost closing his eyes at the comfort Charles' touch provided. He managed a soft chuckle, hands leaving Charles' pockets to rest on his slender waist, pulling his smaller form closer to him. "I suppose it depends on how you look at it." He reasoned, tilting his head slightly to the side, kissing the inside of the telepaths exposed wrist.

His mouth shut, forming a thin line, brow creased in thought. He did not see the point in postponing the inevitable, so he re-opened the link between his and Charles' minds. He was almost embarrassed to say these thoughts aloud. "There are a lot of things that you don't know about me, and I strangely find myself not wanting to keep anything from you." Charles remained politely silent during the first half of his spiel, offering him a single nod, signaling that he understood.

"There is a difference between what you see," Erik let his hands drop from Charles' hips, going to the waistband of his own black trousers. His fingers began to pull his shirt from its neatly tucked in state. "And what I see." His serious expression matched Charles', and right then he knew that he was making the right decision.

Erik gestured to his shirt, and he hoped that Charles caught wind of what he wanted him to do, so he didn't have to go through the rather embarrassing process of explaining it to him. "Once you do that, you will understand why I asked you to come here in the first place."

Though he was usually at least two steps ahead of everyone, Charles found himself experiencing something that was quite unfamiliar - a prickle of confusion. He wasn't entirely sure what Erik was aiming to share with him, but he could see the briefest flash of indecision and what could have been anxiety cross his sharp features. He wanted to say something, but he remained silent, giving Erik adequate time to speak.

Just a moment later, Erik's thoughts flooded his mind. It took him a moment, as usual, to sort things out - for all that he kept hidden, there was nearly an equal amount of cognitions that swirled around the other mutant's mind at a constant basis. When Erik's voice reached out to him, he focused on it, not missing the twinge of embarrassment that colored his tone. He stayed silent, head tilted to one side in polite recognition and one hand still resting on the back of his neck.

There is a difference between what you see and what I see.

Charles didn't doubt that - for though he knew everything Erik had allowed him to, there were still mysteries to the other man, secrets he kept very well hidden. He frowned, brows coming together for the briefest of moments before he smoothed his expression back into one of complete solemnity. As Erik's hands drifted down to the waistband of his slacks and began untucking his shirt, a sense of understanding flashed through Charles' mind - oh - and he allowed his hand to drop from the back of the other's neck.

Once you do that, you will understand why I asked you to come here in the first place.

He bent at the waist and began untucking Erik's shirt, pressing a comforting kiss to the corner of Erik's mouth. There's no need to be embarrassed, Erik. The words never left his lips because the silence, in that moment, was much more deserved. Not with me.

Erik had to resist the overpowering urge to pull away, even though this was entirely his idea. A part of him was very uncomfortable with the fact that Charles would soon be seeing the ugliness that littered his entire body. Surely a thing such as scars could not be found very attractive.

The muscles in his abdomen tensed as his shirt was pulled completely free of its confines, his fists clenched at his sides, just itching to stop everything. However, because he did care about Charles, he was willing to share something this personal with him. It was something no one else had ever seen before. Charles was different.

He parted his lips to say something more, but then Charles kissed him. Said corner of his mouth quirked up into a smile. "Then I'll go ahead and let you take the reins."

The discomfort and uneasiness was rolling off of Erik like smoke; he was sure that he would have been able to feel it even without the aid of telepathy. He paused for just a moment, drawing away so that he could look at Erik and offer him a tiny smile that was meant to be reassuring. Now that his shirt was freed from the confines of his trousers, Charles lifted one of his free hands to Erik's chest, allowing it to rest right above his heart as he did his best to try to calm him.

Then I'll go ahead and let you take the reins.

A hint of a smirk tugged at the corners of his lips and he paused again, his eyebrows raising. Both hands dropped to the hem of his shirt and he tugged the soft material upward, lifting it quickly over his head. It was then that he saw the scars; the myriad of criss-cross patterns that dominated the skin of his abdomen. Charles sucked in a breath and drew away slightly, the smirk fading from his face as quickly as it had surfaced. A frown rose in its place and his gaze softened when he looked at the other man again.

Oh, Erik. He lifted a hand to his cheek again, hoping that it would be comforting. I'm sorry.

Erik turned his head slightly to the side, once again kissing the pale skin of Charles' wrist. He was sure that Charles didn't need to have a hand to his chest to know just how fast his own heart was beating. He could hear it drumming noisily in his ears, and he tried to keep his breathing as even as possible.

There was no turning back. Charles had seen him now.

He nudged Charles closer, tipping his head down so their foreheads touched. He could feel Charles' warm breath ghost over his bottom lip, a hand still cupping his cheek, offering a source of comfort. "It's something I felt I needed to show you." He whispered through the mind link, not wanting to disturb the overall silence of the room. "It's a reminder of my past, but you…" Erik trailed off, reaching up to take Charles' face in his large hands. "Are my future."

Erik almost flinched. He knew it was dreadfully cheesy.

When he truly thought about it, Charles should have known that Erik would have some semblance of a reminder of his time in the concentration camps as a young boy. He'd seen the flashes of memories that Erik had almost unwillingly allowed him - brief glimpses of experiments he could barely fathom and screams that rang in his ears for hours afterward, all pieces of Erik's childhood that he kept locked away in the deep recesses of his mind. The plain black numbers on the inside of his forearm could not have been the only reminder of such a gruesome time, and he was able to see that now in near-horrifying clarity.

He remained perfectly still, even as Erik shifted and cupped his face in both of his hands. Charles was somewhat surprised that he had decided to show him such a personal aspect of his life; for though he was an open book willing to share anything, Erik was the complete opposite. This had to be quite a leap for the other, and Charles had to flash a small smile at the realization of it.

Thank you.

It was so simple, just two small words that could have easily meant nothing but somehow managed to mean everything all at once. Contrary to what Erik might have believed, he didn't see a reason to be ashamed by them - though they were horrific and a terrible reminder of his past, the man seated before him would not have been the same without them. He leant forward, pressing another kiss to Erik's lips and allowing it to linger for the briefest of moments before he pulled away.

Erik smirked lightly at the shorter man, letting his hands fall from his face. Instead, his slender, nimble fingers worked skillfully at the buttons of Charles' cardigan. Before Charles could protest, Erik kissed him again, then trailing the kisses back to the man's ear. "How about this," He started, finding his voice once again. His tone was low, deep, sultry, and he grinned against Charles' skin. "I showed you mine, and now you show me yours."

Charles laughed, sifting his fingers affectionately through Erik's dark hair. "Well, my friend, I suppose it is only fair."

-End-