Chapter Text
"Stretched to the core of galaxies
Distorted city grids
By a black hole of vanity
Blossoms the age of greed
Beyond the laws of density
Towers of glass and steel
Temples and fragments of memories
Drifting away from me
I'm ready to start the conquest of spaces
Expanding between you and me
Come with the night the science of fighting
The forces of gravity"
- Woodkid 'Conquest of Spaces'
There’s no alcohol in Genosha. No drugs, no mind-enhancing, or altering chemicals at all. That is one of the first things Charles learns upon arriving.
Genosha is also a hippie commune. Actually, that’s the first thing he learns.
*
When Erik leaves him in Paris, Charles wants to stay. He has no idea what to do or how do go on, but just the idea of going to Genosha leaves a bad taste in his mouth.
It will be like giving up, knocking on Erik’s door as if nothing has happened. Like they haven’t spent years and years fighting.
He goes to England, books a first-class seat, orders expensive whiskey, and doesn’t sleep.
Continues to do the same in Oxford.
What did he expect to find?
There is no relief. Charles sees Raven, and he sees Jean. He sees Erik. He has failed them. Failed himself.
There’s a brief idea of visiting Moira. She doesn’t know. She will be soft. And understanding. She will pity him and gladly take him. But that is a mad idea, even for him.
So he goes. Swallows his pride and lets it sit bulky and uncomfortable in his throat. Always ready to spill out again.
He keeps it at bay.
He takes two sleeping pills on the flight from Heathrow to Istanbul. Has someone wake him up, escort him to the next plane, and then sleeps through till Cape Town. There are no more private jets for Charles Xavier.
Cape Town is colder than he expected it to be in April. He checks into a hotel near the airport, drinks the bad mini bar bourbon, and waits. Erik said he wanted to offer Charles a home. He didn’t give instructions on how to get there.
No regular flights are heading for Genosha island. There is no ferry, no number to call and ask about immigration services. What a crude thought. Charles almost smiles against the rim of his glass.
He thinks of Jean. Imagines her flying over the sea, her arms outstretched. Her powers surrounding her like multi-coloured lightning. Erik must have liked that. The intensity of it, the lack of inhibition. Before realizing the threat she could be to his people, he must have enjoyed the sight of her. Charles knows him well enough for that.
And it’s as simple as that, he realises, that’s what he has to do. Show who you are, he thinks bitterly and lets his mind expand. Wraps it like an invisible fabric around the city. Drifts in and out.
It has been a long time since he has last done this. Using Cerebro was different. Stronger, more focused, enhanced.
This is just him. And thousands and thousands of thoughts. Emotions he doesn’t want to hear. Feelings crawling over his skin like ants. It’s unfiltered and it takes him a while to shift through it. It is almost like sorting through messy paperwork. He scans what he finds in bare seconds, discards it, and goes on until he finds what he is looking for.
Charles boards a little helicopter the next morning at dawn. It looks old and entirely too untrustworthy, but if they’ll fall and die drowning in the ocean, at least then he doesn’t have to face Erik’s smug face again.
*
Charles is surprised. He has no idea what he expected but this certainly isn’t it.
Of course, everyone in the world knowing about mutants and mutant history knew of the island, but Erik was very strict in protecting its privacy, so when Charles lands in between colourful barracks and container houses with what looks like hippie gardening and an overall handmade flair, he feels like he is back in the 70ies. And maybe this time it's him that took bad acid.
The chair Charles uses for travelling is simple, collapsible, and uncomfortable. It’s also going to be extremely impracticable in Genosha, he realizes as he tries to roll through gravel and sand as dignified as possible.
And of course, it’s then that Erik steps out of the most imposing ridiculous building Charles has ever seen, and while he tries to roll as gracefully as he can over rocks and dirt there’s no smugness in his face. It's just - Erik.