Chapter Text
Erik hated anniversaries.
Honestly, what good were they? All they do is bring up the pain in your life when you wish you could just forget about it all together. Push it to the far corners to your mind and pretend it's not there. Or maybe it was just the anniversaries that involved himself and his mistakes that he hated.
1962, Cuba. The day he became Magneto, the day he killed Shaw, the day he decided to fight for his kind and when he regretfully cost Charles his legs.
1973, Washington D.C. Where he tried to kill the president and his comrades, where he once again fought for his kind— acted out on violence to get the job done but only sought to protect them, where he said his goodbyes to Raven and Charles.
And 1983, Poland. The day where his pain came crashing back into him like a speeding train, the day where he lost his beloved wife and daughter. Where he lost everything he cared about once again, where he fully became Magneto once again after ten long years, he let his emotions consume him.
Yes, he hated them. With such a furious passion, he hated how they were reminders of his mistakes, of how much of a failure he was.
But during those years, Erik realized that the first year was always the hardest.
When the anniversary for what happened in Cuba rolled around in 1963 a year later, Erik remembered walking into a bar that evening and didn't return to the hideout among his Brotherhood until late that night. Strangely, he was equal parts drunk and sober at the same time as he remembered Raven carrying him to bed as he vaguely murmured about his utter guilt to what he had done to his first real friend in his entire life. Later, Raven had revealed the various times he woke up in a cold sweat, deliriously muttering how sorry he was to her.
Two years after the events in Washington, Erik stood by the phone, hand hovering over the receiver, Raven's current number written on a crumpled piece of paper, Charles' number right below hers. Battling with himself if he could work up the courage to call them, to check on them. See how they were doing, but something always stopped him from dialing, whether that be his cowardliness, his guilt or possibly both Erik wasn't sure. But when slim hands wrapped gently around his neck and a kiss was placed to his temple, Erik realized as he looked to his wife holding their baby girl, that after all the trouble he had caused them over the years, after all his mistakes he made, they didn't need him.
And Erik had accepted that long ago.
Three different events, at different times and in different parts of the world, but they still left holes within his heart, because those mistakes were his to bare, and his alone no matter how much they pained him to remember every year.
But now there was this, this particular moment in his life was still so fresh and raw within his heart, within his mind that it causes him to visibly grimace. This event having only happened last year on that cold night in Poland, where he lost his beautiful Magda and his angelic Nina. Surprisingly enough, Erik hadn't known it was that dreadful day until he had left of his small, dimly lit apartment and went to get some much needed fresh air.
Oh how he wished he had stayed inside.
Everything had been fine, Erik had walked down to the local park, quietly sat down on one of the benches and proceeded to watch the human's he had once despised with all his heart walked their dogs and play with their children, feeling oddly content with his surrounding as he read a few pages from the newspaper he had just required, absentmindedly sipping his coffee. That was until his eyes drifted to the date above the top page: January 24th, 1983.
Everything else seemed to shatter around him as he realized—
Magda and Nina...
Scheiße...
His eyes immediately grew damp as he remembered how much it hurt when he lost them. Oh Gott seine kostbar babies! He remembered how angry he was at the human for taking them away from him after he tried so hard to live among them in peace, how angry he was at God himself for causing him so much sorrow, as if the Sacred Man was mocking him. But now he wasn't angry anymore, now he was just heartbroken and so done with everything.
His heart ached and his vision blurred as he stood up from the bench. Blindly, Erik made his way out of the park, he walked a few ways before he decided to go to the one place that he knew would help kill the pain within his heart. As soon as he entered the bar Erik barely sat down before he ordered a glass of whiskey, wasting no time in downing the shot. Erik savored the taste and told the man behind the counter to keep them coming. Relishing in the fact that if his thoughts ever drifted to what he lost then he could simply order more whiskey to numb the pain. After his fifth glass the bartender cut him off... or at least he tried too. "I think you've had enough, friend."
Erik hiccuped, though it sound more like a miserable sob. "Don't tell... me when I've had enough... I'm from Poland, I know how to hold my liquor." The old man merely shrugged, not pressing the issue any further, which Erik was thankful for.
"Suite yourself, but don't go complaining when you wake up in the morning with a screaming headache."
Ten empty glasses later and Erik couldn't think straight anymore. All his senses were blurred and clouded with a thick fog. "Alright, now I'm officially cutting you off." The bartender stated firmly. "You put anymore liquor in your system and you are going to die from alcohol poisoning." Erik numbly felt the man grab his arm and yank him off his chair. Unfortunately Erik's dead weight must have been too solid for the elderly man because seconds later he felt everything fall underneath him as he went crashing to the floor below, a sharp pain shooting through his skull, his vision to blackening. Erik let out a loud yelp of agony as he curled into himself. Faintly, amongst the pain and misery he was feeling, Erik heard a voice.
It sounded young, it also sounded... female?
"Gran— ppened?"
"—hing sweet..."
He curled even tighter into himself. His headache throbbing as he tried and failed to hear what these voices were saying.
"...ait, can I hel—?"
"Sop—! Don't... uch him!"
His vision blackened once again when Erik felt a something touch his arm and a white hot energy flowed through his entire body like an electric current, only further adding to his pain, he cried out brokenly as his brain began to shut down.
He really wished he had stayed inside his apartment.
"Class dismissed."
Charles watched with fondness as his student gathered their things and left his classroom. He waved goodbye to Kurt, Scott and Jean feeling delighted that those three had become such fast friends in only a few short months, he was proud of his students, of every single one of them. But the ones he was most proud of, the ones he held such deep graduate for were the one who had come to his recuse back in Egypt. He will be eternally grateful for their help. He moved his wheelchair over to the window and looked outside. The telepath could still hardly believe that even after all that he's been through— Cuba, Washington, and Carino everything was finally falling into place, just as the older version of himself from the future had shown him. Only this time Raven was here not walking down such a dark path of killing, he only wished that Erik will one day know such peace as well.
Yes, their future still wasn't set in stone, they still had a long way to go before mutants and humans could finally live in peace but things were different, things were good for once in their lives and that filled Charles with such relief and happiness then he has ever experienced in his life. A small smile formed on his lips when he heard the thoughts of Moria behind him, before she even walked into the room, his beloved agent had planned on surprising him, but then decided against it once she realized that her love can read minds. "I find emptying ones mind of all thoughts to be the best way to surprise a telepath." He commented, simply as he turned his chair around to face his wife and grinned at her.
Moria's face blushed with embarrassment but she smiled nonetheless. "That's actually a bit harder then you make it sound, Charles." She said with a small laugh as she walked over and embraced him, placing a gentle kiss on his cheek. Warmth filled his heart, and he returned the kiss with one of his own. The peace within his life washed over him once more and Charles couldn't help but let out a sigh of contentment, another smile forming on his lips.
"What's going on inside that head of yours, dear?" Moria inquired softly, her voice as calm and loving as always.
Charles raised his hand and ran it a crossed his bald head, chuckling. "Nothing, just thinking how far we've come since Cuba, since D.C. and Carino. I have hope one day things will be even better in the future then they are now."
"I've always admired your optimism, Charles. You give these kids hope that things will be okay."
"Well, I'm glad for that. Glad that after everything, I can give them a place to feel safe, and teach them." Charles confirmed with a small chuckle. "It's my job too—" The telepath trailed off and his face went slack as he suddenly felt a rush of frantic thoughts. Charles tried to focus on them, tried to help, to calm this person's mind but they were jumbled and muted, almost as if someone didn't want him in their head. The only thing Charles could get from them was that this person felt old, elderly. But as quickly as those thoughts slammed into his mind they disappeared a few moments later, out of Charles telepathic range.
He blinked several times, coming back to reality as he tried to make sense of what exactly that was all about.
A gush of wind blew through the air, then suddenly Peter was standing there. "Yo, Professor!" The speedster said as he adjusted the goggles on his head. "Hank said for you to come downstairs right now." Peter informed the pair of them, and then three seconds later he was gone. Charles and Moria gave each other confused looks before they started making their way out in the front door, immediately the telepath saw Hank kneeling down on the floor with his back facing Charles, with Raven beside him.
He didn't need to read their minds to know that something was wrong. "Hank? Raven?" He called out as he approached them. "What's happened?"
Raven turned to him. "Charles..." His sister stated, sounding utterly confused. Charles became cautious at his sister features but continued moving anyway, by the time he pulled his wheelchair to a stop Hank was already standing up. When the scientist turned around, Charles saw that he was holding a little boy in his arms.
The telepaths eyes widened in the same shock as Raven's had.
For he recognized this boy— yes, Charles knew him, remembered the torment this boy went through, the pain and sorrow. He recalled it all from the childhood— from the memories of the man that he considered his dearest friend.
"Erik?"