I do not own X-Men Apocalypse.

I do own a baby and he plays with my hands.

Empty Hands

Erik Lensherr didn't speak much these days.

His friend, Charles the telepath, decided not to push him on it. But rather provide him with safety and seclusion within the walls of Xavier Manor in which to mentally and emotionally convalsce.

The man was drawn and somber. At times, he seemed a statue or a robot, wound up only far enough to move through the next set of steps.

On good days, they played chess in the study, quietly exchanging few words between them.

And Charles stayed out of Erik's mind.

On bad days, the former man of metal sat morosely, staring off into space. Empty space where his dead family was not.

No one and nothing could reach him.

And Charles stayed out of Erik's mind.

On this day, they sat quietly in the veranda, watching the awakening dawn paint the sky in lightening pinks, oranges, and violets.

Steaming cups untouched at their elbows.

And Erik was quiet.

Until he wasn't.

"We used to sit and watch the sunrise," he began, soft voice barely more than a whisper. "My son and I."

Charles listened. Quiet. Supportive.

The haggard mutant at his side continued.

"When he was barely more than a baby. He would sit on my lap and hold my index fingers in his little chubby hands."

Erik was now studying those hands in his lap. Still. Empty.

"He would move my hands around, gurgling and babbling. I couldn't understand what he was saying."

He trailed off for a moment before resuming.

"But he showed me with his hands."

Eric unconsciously raised his own hands now, miming the vague gestures once so enthusiastically played out by the now gone child.

"Pointing at birds, waving at the squirrels. Reaching out for the whole world."

Erik ghosted a smile.

"Sometimes he would wrap my arms around his little body and look up at me and grin."

Erik lowered his hands he had been gesturing with once more to his empty lap.

"Then my wife would call us in for breakfast to start the day."

Erik stared at the sunrise, unshed tears trapped in his ocean blue eyes.

Charles remained quiet.

"Those were the best moments of my life, Charles," Erik said. "And now they are gone. And they will never come back again."

Erik stopped talking then. There seemed to be nothing left for him to say.

And Charles Xavier did not quite know where to start, so overcome with emotion was he.

So they sat there a while longer.

And watched the sunrise.

Nobody snark 'The Neverending Story' at me. "They look like big, strong hands. Don't they?"

But, yeah, I thought it too.

Once again, all conjecture, set after Apocalypse. So it could be way off. Still not a bad little blurb tho. Albeit depressing.

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