[ They go through the first door, and Charles allows himself to sink into Erik's memories.
The grief is a fog, a deadening, a rage, an overwhelming choking miasma. He sees En Sabah Nur, and the cursed remains of the camps, and the incredible heights of power that Erik is able to achieve as he reduces everything to dust. He sees himself, unconscious in his wheelchair, getting kidnapped. He feels the Earth's magnetic poles under Erik's hands, and the mutants around him, and the sight of others come to try rescue Charles. He sees himself on rocks; confronting the ancient mutant; afterward, obviously having been through something.
He sees Erik on the verge of absolute destruction before making the kinder choice. He sees power pouring out of Jean like fire.
And then, afterward. The school, destroyed, and being rebuilt. Alex, dead. The new X-Men being formed, with Raven at its core. And then Erik leaving once more.
By the time the memory shakes loose and Charles is left staring at that open door, he finds his breath hitching with that unique form of grief that comes every time Erik leaves. He rubs at his temple, willing the memories to settle, to pass by without overly affecting him -- but how can they not?
He couldn't quite tell if En Sabah Nur had corrupted Erik in some way, or if all of that had been his choice. But... if it had been his choice, he's not entirely sure he could blame Erik. The loss of his family, the disconnection from his community. Erik must have felt like he truly had nothing left, nothing but a world full of humans who wanted him dead. That he'd been so close to destroying the entire world over it, mutants included, that's certainly not a good choice, but...
Charles understands. His own grief had been self-destructive, Erik's outwardly so. Grief has no rules. And in the end, Erik had made the right choice. ]
No. I'm displeased to report, that wasn't pleasant at all. [ His wry attempt at a joke falls flat even to his own ears. ] But I'm glad you showed me nonetheless. I'll... need some time to digest it all, I think. But we ought to move on to your next set of memories.
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The grief is a fog, a deadening, a rage, an overwhelming choking miasma. He sees En Sabah Nur, and the cursed remains of the camps, and the incredible heights of power that Erik is able to achieve as he reduces everything to dust. He sees himself, unconscious in his wheelchair, getting kidnapped. He feels the Earth's magnetic poles under Erik's hands, and the mutants around him, and the sight of others come to try rescue Charles. He sees himself on rocks; confronting the ancient mutant; afterward, obviously having been through something.
He sees Erik on the verge of absolute destruction before making the kinder choice. He sees power pouring out of Jean like fire.
And then, afterward. The school, destroyed, and being rebuilt. Alex, dead. The new X-Men being formed, with Raven at its core. And then Erik leaving once more.
By the time the memory shakes loose and Charles is left staring at that open door, he finds his breath hitching with that unique form of grief that comes every time Erik leaves. He rubs at his temple, willing the memories to settle, to pass by without overly affecting him -- but how can they not?
He couldn't quite tell if En Sabah Nur had corrupted Erik in some way, or if all of that had been his choice. But... if it had been his choice, he's not entirely sure he could blame Erik. The loss of his family, the disconnection from his community. Erik must have felt like he truly had nothing left, nothing but a world full of humans who wanted him dead. That he'd been so close to destroying the entire world over it, mutants included, that's certainly not a good choice, but...
Charles understands. His own grief had been self-destructive, Erik's outwardly so. Grief has no rules. And in the end, Erik had made the right choice. ]
No. I'm displeased to report, that wasn't pleasant at all. [ His wry attempt at a joke falls flat even to his own ears. ] But I'm glad you showed me nonetheless. I'll... need some time to digest it all, I think. But we ought to move on to your next set of memories.