lifesmarvels | "The fifth note" (Reply)

Title: The notes from Erik
Fandom: X-Men, The Journey's End
Pairing: Erik/Charles, Erik/Raven, Sean/Raven, Osborne/Moira
Genre: WWI AU
Rating: These are letters and this is war, I don't think there's going to be any sexy times, but like I said this is war so I'd say NC-17 for blood and everything else that happens at the war.
Word Count: 1267 (this note)(also, I didn't change the number in the last one after pastaing the header and now am too lazy to correct it. You probably don't mind anyway.)
Summary: Erik and Charles as soldiers on the front of World War I as described by the play "Journey's End" by R.C.Sherriff.

Disclaimer: This author doesn't own X-Men or The Journey's End and any of the characters portrayed in this story. Erik's not mine, Charles' not mine, Rayleigh's not mine, Dennis' not mine and not anyone else either. I like happy endings so obviously none of them is mine.

Author's note: the_me09 is being very productive lately and makes me proud of her. This is not only mean to pass the ball in your court, darling, but also to tie a red ribbon around it. Dedicated to you, love <3

The sound of someone sobbing wrenched him awake. His head hurt and his mouth tasted as if something died inside. He’s not surprised, with the amount of alcohol he had. He’s sure he hadn’t cried since the war started. Now he knows why. It’s a horrible experience. He doesn’t know how some soldiers can do it every day, it takes everything out of him and now he feels as if someone took out his heart and stomped on it repeatedly.

He wipes his eyes and looks into the direction of the officers chambers. Someone is crying. He knows that sound, these heart-breaking sobs shaking the frame of the smaller man. He’s almost out of chair before he stumbles and remembers how much he had to drink. He can’t go to Charles now, not in the state he’s in. He needs to ignore the crying. For the first time in years, he’s not going to comfort the man. He bends down on his chair and hides his head in his hands. He can’t help.

He can’t help anyone in this war so what’s the use in even being here. He wants to weep again, but holds his tears back, undeserving of this outlet for his emotions. Besides, he’s already going to feel like shit in the morning, might as well not make it harder on himself.

The rustle of paper near his hand makes him cringe. God, what a fool he’s been, pouring his woes like that. Charles has enough on his plate right now; he doesn’t need Erik’s pathetic feelings. But one glance makes him freeze. It’s not his letter, it’s an envelope addressed to him. Charles’ answer. Is that why Charles is crying? Was he the one to finally break the dam and reduce the man to tears? He’s going to have a long talk with Mason about privacy and what is considered proper since he has no doubt who was nosy enough to carry his drunken scribbling to Charles.

He opens it with shaky hands, afraid of what he’ll find. But he owes Charles at least this much. To have a chance at telling Erik how much he hates him because of what happened. It’s not what the letter says. He revels in Charles’ absolution, in his continued love. He feels his chest constrict at the obvious guilt the man is feeling and he can’t help the hitching sob at the thought that Charles is seeing the war now as it truly is. He never wanted this man to lose his innocence.

He wipes his face again and picks the pen for the second time this night, determined this time to be more coherent than before. His hand is still shaking, but he hopes Charles won’t notice. He needs to be strong for all his men. But especially for Charles, he’ll give the man as much comfort as he is able to, pushed into such and no other life.

Charles, my love,

You can’t blame yourself for Osborne’s death. I won’t tell you any meaningless platitudes; the time for them is long past now. Instead I will tell you the truth. I will miss the man horribly, possibly until the end of my time and I cannot bear to think about his wife, Moira. She will be devastated upon hearing the news and I wish I could do something for her, but all I am able to do is to send my dear friend’s things to her. Not even a body.

But it wasn’t his fault he died. Maybe it’s awful of me to think so, but I am grateful to him for protecting you. As much as his demise pains me, I would surely die would it be you not coming back from this wretched raid. Osborne was an experienced soldier and he knew how the raid would go. He was prepared to die. I think it must have been comfort to him to fall knowing that it wasn’t because of meaningless orders, but to protect a friend. Do not take it away from him.

Your innocence was what made the men took such a shining to you. You were unmarred by this world, happy that you could protect your country. I weep for the loss of it. At the same time, I cannot help but be a little relieved. As you know what awaits you should you not be careful, you will surely be more cautious in any actions you take. And that means you are less likely to die.

I will not stand for you dying, love. Never. Think what you will, there are man who go back home from here, unharmed, alive. I will do my utmost to ensure that you are one of them. You will go back to your home and be greeted by a smiling Raven. I have no doubt she will cry before your arrival, but refuse to show the tears to you. She is a strong and stubborn woman like that. Maybe you’ll even have a niece or a nephew when you finally cross the threshold of your family home. Wait and you’ll see. There will come days when you will be smiling, laughing among your family again.

I swear it to you.

You can explore the river; find the mystery we longed to discover. You can do it for Osborne’s memory, showing your memory of him this way. Do not hang onto the image of the dead man, remember him how he was breathing, smiling, reading this ridiculous children book. Don’t let this place kill your spirit as it has done to so many others. This is all I’m asking of you.

I could never hate you. Even now, hearing your cries in the room next to mine, I long to go to you and lock you into my arms. Give you as much comfort as I can. It hurts me that I can’t. Please, have in mind that no matter what, my love will always be with you.

Yours forever,

Erik.

He startled at the sound of the morning bell, stuffing both letters into his jacket before anyone could see them. He knows how dangerous the writing of them is, if anyone but Mason ever saw them, both him and Charles could be in serious trouble. War or no war, some things are too illegal to accept them for the higher ups. He wishes it wasn’t so.

There is no time to give the letter to Charles and he goes increasingly frustrated as the day goes by. Colonel’s visit only serves to aggravate him further. The set date of the final attack only adds to his anxiety, making him irritable and twitchy. His headache is not helping matters at all. He doesn’t have a chance to see Charles at all during the day and when the dusk finally settles again over the trenches, he realizes it’s because the man was avoiding him.

Stupid, infuriating, lovely man. He swallows down the feeling that threatens to overwhelm him and writes post scriptum on the back of the envelope.

P.S.: The final attack is tomorrow. Please don’t get yourself killed. You don’t want to break my heart, do you?

He slinks into antechamber and moves his fingers slowly over Charles’ troubled forehead. He’s having nightmares. He puts the already crumpled letter under the man’s hand and in a peak of foolishness bends down and presses his chapped lips to the frown between his love’s eyebrows. He goes back to his bed feeling a little lighter, determined to do anything if it’ll mean Charles will survive tomorrow’s attack.