badfic_manor | (no subject)

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plot: weeping angels

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*after the weeks he'd had, Charles would love to enjoy the days of peace that followed the angels. He'd recognized that the angels themselves has disappeared, or at least permanently become statues, and normally he'd be able to rest in relief, but...

But the other presence had only gotten worse, and for two days he's been in a constant state of tense. Helping Sam hadn't decreased the feeling, in fact, forcing his way past images of hell only made it worse. Not that he ever came close to regretting that. The man desperately needed help, and Charles thought he was doing a good job in keeping him from mentally imploding.

And yet...this presence was creeping along him, feeding off the pain, and the anxiety Charles experienced building that wall.

He hasn't been able to sleep, so he'd made himself a cup of coffee and holed up in the library with a book, where he can be found now. It was quite as familiar as his own library, but big enough that he felt he could make himself right at home sitting here for a few hours. The books in front of him were a lengthy set of research journals based on the reality and physics of a world he'd never heard of, so Charles was pouring over the text in an effort to distract himself from the feeling of Impending Doom.

Feel free to come across him and realize this man hasn't had a decent night's sleep since the month started.*

((presuming this happens sometime after Charles finishes helping Sam))

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*Charles turns around, wariness suddenly set into his very posture. There's a touch of grief in his eyes and at the corner of his mouth.

Someone please tell him this new thought was wrong. This would be a joke far crueler than seeing his mother last week*

How do you know where I live?

[ His own stance shifts subtly, confusion written clearly on his face, a frown working under the curve of the helmet. ] I lived there, you don't remember?

That's impossible. When would you have done that?

After the CIA facility was attacked. [ Closing his eyes for a moment, Erik tries to be very calm, rational, even if this is a dream, there's no point risking it turning. ] You took us all in.

They were attacked!? *his surprise and fear is genuine, He doesn't drop the books again, but he's forgotten just about everything else in favor of worrying about those kids. Obviously Erik is okay, but...*

Is everyone okay?

[ The worry is something wholly Charles, and he can't lie, not to him. ] No, Darwin didn't make it. But the others, you took them to your home and you cared for them, you still do.

[ Apart from Raven, some Erik plucked away. ] Why don't you know these things?

*grief settles over him like a cloak. He didn't understand. It didn't entirely sound like something he would do, he'd have gotten the children out of the fight as soon as he could.

But what if he couldn't? Then yes, he definitely would have taken them there. Still, it didn't happen. He would have remembered it if it did-oh no.

He had an idea*

...because...we're not from the same time. *With evidence from Sam and Dean, and even Emma, well, he should have thought of this possibility from the beginning.

At least he wasn't positive the manor was messing with his mind again*

Don't. [ Stricken suddenly by the way Charles' expression falters. ] If I can't even dream you up happier, what use is this?

*he stares at him for a moment. A dream? It was too detailed to be a dream anymore. Though there was the possibility that Erik himself was a ghost. His mother had been awfully vivid, even though he couldn't touch her.

Just to be sure, he fixes his grip on the books and moves forward to grip Erik's arm. He sounds a little surprised himself*

Does this feel like a dream, my friend?

*which means...when he goes back home they were going to be attacked, and Darwin was going to die, and Charles himself was to blame for it. Why else would he be unhappy where Erik's from?*

[ He recoils from the touch, taking a half a step back, head lowering, eyes going dark. ] Don't. [ There's almost an angry growl to his voice. ] What else could it be? What could possibly explain this? It's a dream, I will wake up from this, from you.

Edited 2011-10-24 18:48 (UTC)

*even knowing he couldn't logically blame him, it sort of felt like a dream to him too, it still hurt that Erik would pull away from him like that.

Which means something worse must have happened aside from the attack. There was no other explanation.

Still, he wasn't one to push boundaries. Much.*

Suit yourself, but I assure you this place is very real. I'd tell you to be careful but...I know you. Come on, kitchen's this way.

*the only thing he can do is smile, and take a step back, almost feeling like he has to start all over with him. Except this time he can't tell what Erik is thinking and it hurts. Damn you, Author*

I'm always careful. [ It's a little bit petulant, a little bit like things used to be with Charles, easy goading to hide the blossoming friendship. ] You, on the other hand, just throw yourself into everything and damn the consequences, isn't that right?

Precisely, aside from the idea of my own recklessness. That is quite untrue. *no it wasn't. He'd thrown himself into the sea to save this man, so he couldn't claim to thinking everything through logically*

[ Erik gives him a look, feels the phantom ache of someone tugging him to the surface. ] I'm sure your sister would think quite differently.

Probably. I imagine she will be cross when I return home. *he pinches the bridge of his nose again, his headache was getting worse, and resumed leading Erik to the kitchen.*

Yes, when you return home.

[ No, it's still not hit. Looking around him as he goes. ] How long have you been here?

Almost two months if I recall correctly. I could be wrong, the last few weeks have been...stressful. *he opens the kitchen door and puts down his books in order to make another pot of coffee.*

Which is why you look so tired?

[ The kitchen isn't like the one back in the Mansion, so Erik spends a good moment looking around him, like a caged animal for a moment, gaze suspicious. ] Say I believe you, why would that be?

Edited 2011-10-24 20:33 (UTC)

Indeed.

*he sets the pot to start and turns around, unsure of how to explain*

Things happen here. Things that even I can't explain. This week we were being chased by some sort of creature that can only move when nothing is looking at it. The week before we were haunted by ghosts. And before that I'd lost my power entirely for the week. It was...unsettling.

*he'd spent at least a day huddled in his shower cause the sound of the water running was better than the overwhelming silence of being alone. 'Unsettling'.*

You lost your power? [ His eyes widen slightly, not entirely sure why he'd dream that up. Charles' power has always been fascinating to him, beautiful in its frightening quality.

Funny how that's what he's latching on to. ]

It was terrible. For the first time in my life I'd been completely alone in my head. *he closes his eyes in an attempt to fend off the feeling of helplessness* I thought I was the only one left.

[ With just the hint of concern. ] It's back now?

Yes, though right now I'm afraid I'm debating whether that's a good thing or not.

[ Erik knows they're enemies, he should walk out of this room right now, but if this is a dream, then he's imagined the wreck of a man before him. He sighs, takes over the coffee, points to the table in a clear sign that Charles should sit.

Softly. ] Explain.

*He chuckles and sits down, rubbing his temple. It's obvious that it's more of a soothing motion than one to concentrate his power.*

You'll think I'm crazy, but the fog is alive.

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