and if you gaze into the abyss, the abyss gazes also into you.

[cerebral]

Who: Charles Xavier & Remy LeBeau, later Erik Lehnsherr.

What: ...someone isn't handling integration well.

Where: Near the fog.
When: Newdi early afternoon.

Notes: Mind horrors.
Warnings: None.

It had started out with good intentions. No, that's a lie. It had started out with Charles telling himself that this was a walk like any other, while he kept the real reason why he took that particular route at the back of his mind.

The fog bothered him. He could accept the gods as extraordinarily powerful beings, although he questioned their self-proclaimed divine status. He could accept magic and had already began to read various introductory books on thaumoturgy. But there were few solid facts about the fog --it was there, it gated them in and it contained monsters, but the rest was up to speculation.

And in the meantime, every part of him was railing against the idea of being trapped in this city. Perhaps if Raven, or Hank, or any of the other younger mutants were here, he would have put on a brave face and tried to handle things better for them. When it was himself--

But it wasn't only himself, there was Erik. And Erik was going out into the wilds while telling him not to, which only gave him more reason to worry.

At least, Charles thought, he had no intention of entering the gloom in front of him (although it only assuaged his guilt a little.) All he needed was to be near enough to let his mind wander into the great vastness before him.

After a long time staring at it, he closed his eyes, put two fingers to his temple and searched.

What he found was in some ways much, much worse than the rumours or his own imagination.

Comments

[bangyoudead]

"Whatever's keepin' us in ain't simple," he muses. Remy is frustrated being stuck, too, but he's been jerked around by the universe enough times that he can't muster the strength to be outwardly pissed about it anymore - it's a waste of energy. He knows something will happen eventually if he stays vigilant and keeps moving, so he's doing that, instead.

"How hard'd you get hit?" Psychically, one would assume.

[cerebral]

"No, it's not." Unfortunately, Xavier the younger is not so experienced (his first mission was only a week ago and left incomplete). Consider this his ill-considered kick at the world; normal services of responsibility will return shortly.

"I don't know. Pretty battered. I feel... I feel as though a great stone has been rolled on top of me. Everything feels heavier. And the things they made me see—" Cause rising feelings of dread and panic to needle at him. Later, alone in his room or starting awake in the middle of the night, he will feel the reprecussions much more strongly. "Not that I made it easy for them. But I dread to think what it's like for people with no mental defences. Then again, most people probably try not to go as deep as I did, or spend as much time in there. Or something gets to them first."

He's rambling a little bit. It will become apparent the more they converse that he's running on the mental equivalent of adrenaline and not much else.

[bangyoudead]

If he asked, Remy would volunteer to practice with him; it'd be weird for the both of them, probably, but better than letting him continue to have his head violated in totally alien circumstances. Maybe he'll bring it up later - right now further experimentation isn't exactly a priority.

"Folks warn off goin' out there for a reason, homme. Fog hunters who do it for profit go about it differently. It's like-" he gestures, trying to find the right words. "Things out there hurt everybody's heads, sure, but you can see an' hear things most people can't. Which means things can hear an' see you where they can't see or hear others. You go pokin' around at it psychically, you're gonna get the attention of stuff that's been waitin' for a target like that."

And not just in the fog - Remy's seen telepaths get crippled time and time again for that very reason; beings who only exist on the astral plane tend to be lonely. And hungry.

[cerebral]

"I've realised that the hard way." And, when he's feeling more conducive to such thoughts, he'll make a note to practice for any future psychic attacks. Holding his own against another telepath like Emma Frost is one thing, but this city has far more powerful citizens than mutants.

And speaking of which: "There are other things. It's not just the monsters, although they're bad enough. It was —There was," because it wasn't sentient so much as, "hunger. Just...hunger. Beyond everything. Huge and—and encompassing. I kept trying to find out where it was coming from but it was there, just there."

Which was disturbing beyond all belief. And now he feels small and powerless. "I need to go home." No, that's not right. "To the Inn, I mean. I need to lie down. No, I need to tell him he's a reckless fool, and then I'll lie..." There's a long space there, before he feels like finishing the sentence with, "down. Lie down."

Not to be hypocritical or anything, no.

[bangyoudead]

The fact that Remy's silence in response to hearing about the vast hunger out there isn't surprised could be worrying. It makes sense, in context; he'd wondered when they were first digging up dirt on the Candlelighters if there was a purpose besides escape to delivering people out into the fog. 'Feeding something' had been on the list of potentials.

Great.

"You sure do, man. You gonna make it?" The nearest El Train stop is still a good fifteen minute's walk away.

[cerebral]

He is glad to assist you in your sense of horror, Remy (no). But if he noticed the other man's lack of surprise, it's only because Remy gives off the air of someone who really has seen and done it all.

"I'll manage," he says. "I trust you not to let me chew on my tongue."

He's going to need that, later.

[bangyoudead]

"Right, well, yell if you're gonna pass out."

Still, he's gonna keep a close eye on him as they walk - trailing through a couple run-down alleys for a short cut, and as they get further away from the border, the less oppressive the atmosphere feels, like their retreat is being watched by something looming, distant.

[cerebral]

The change in atmosphere helps considerably, although for the most part Charles tries to concentrate on walking, on anything other than the events of the past few hours.

He doesn't pass out on the train. He even manages to pay attention to the card trick that Remy shows him. But when he steps onto the platform at Moghill, something visibly sags in him (so close, yet so far). Although he puts a hand up before Remy can say anything.

"I'm fine. Really."

[bangyoudead]

"You ain't fuckin' fine," he says, chuckling; he does the mother hen act pretty well, but he's not about to put Charles on a fainting couch. "You want me to call anybody to come check on you later or you gonna pretend this didn't happen, or what?"

C'mon, legsy, he's going to make sure you get back to the Inn awake at least.

[cerebral]

"I don't think I could pretend this didn't happen if I tried." Seriously, look at him right now. "I just need to get to the Inn. Erik will be back eventually. And I'll leave my CiD on in the meantime."

He doesn't begrudge the mother henning (this is exactly what he'd do in similar circumstances --although maybe not so much swearing). In fact the only thing that's odd about it is being on the other end for a change.

"Onwards and upwards, as they say."

[bangyoudead]

"Is he stayin' back here? I heard he moved over to Mafaton." Not that clinging to Xavier is a bad idea, all things considered. (Remy does kind of want to shake Charles and force him to mature another twenty years overnight so they can just put him up against Erik right now and be done with it but - alas.)

"Don't try to get all polite about your head hurtin' later if it's bad, okay? I ain't no professional telepathic therapist but sufferin' alone is gonna be worse in the long run, you hear?"

[cerebral]

"He has, but he said he'd come by afterwards." At some point in the next few weeks, they will move in with one another. Perhaps Charles will mysteriously show up and claim ownership, like a cat. Or manly conversations will occur. Whichever.

"I promise you, I've made enough bad decisions for one day. Any more and you can, I don't know. Have me wear a sign saying I'm an idiot. And if I ever try to remove it, have Tommy zip by with another. My eternal shame."

[bangyoudead]

After he's out getting his own heard turned inside out? Interesting. Remy remembers how Erik was last time, between whatever the hell happened to him in the fog and Charles leaving the first time. Privately, he's unsurprised he went back out; Magneto never could leave anything alone if it bested him.

"You say that like I wouldn't." COMPANIONABLE MANLY CLAP ON THE SHOULDER - no, he moves like he's going to, and just ends up hauling the inn door open. (Troll.)

[cerebral]

"I don't always need to be able to read people's minds."

He almost starts to protest that he can make it to his own room fine by himself, but thinks better of it. Once they do make it up the stairs to his door, he turns with a grateful if weary smile. "I think I can manage it from here. But thank you."

He really doesn't want to think about what would have happened if Remy hadn't shown up.

[bangyoudead]

"Yeah, you gotta watch it here, some people just around town'll give you a headache." .. Himself included, completely accidentally, so: friendly warnings all around. Outside his room door, he folds his arms, giving him a look.

"Do you have food, enough water, painkillers - like, a sweater? An' you're gonna rest?"

[cerebral]

"Boy Scouts honour." Although he was never in the Boy Scouts. Too serious as a child even for that, probably.

"I'll send you a text in the morning. We'll need to reschedule anyhow. But for now--" and he opens his door, "--here is where I'll lie for the next however long."

"Thank you again."

[bangyoudead]

"Don't worry about it, mon ami." He holds up one hand - in farewell, yes, he is going to leave Charles to his own devices, finally. "Take care - an' look, if I don't hear from you, I will come back with my girlfriend who is actually a mom, don't even mess."

He's dead serious, Chuck.

But he's also beginning to head back down the hall. "Catch you later."

[cerebral]

There is one last call of, "Goodbye," before Charles closes and locks his door.

From there he moves a little robotically: jacket, shoes and shirt are removed, and he sits on the bed staring at a point on the wall for the longest time. Finally he sinks forward, face in hands as he finally, finally lets things start to overwhelm him.

Weariness eventually wins out over despair, and even then he barely manages to lift his feet onto the bed and curl up. He doesn't sleep so much as give in to the dark, empty feeling in his mind.

Only it's not empty. Things are moving, coming towards him.

By the time Erik comes to the Inn, Charles will have been lying there for an hour or so, awake but numbed, eyes bloodshot. It's probably not the homecoming he'd envisaged.

[magnetic]

It's better than being dragged back in pieces, frankly—anything beyond that, he'll take. Except the lack of response to any of several CiD calls, that is. He doesn't like that very much.

Nor does he like having to wait to be let in, even for a moment, as he knocks on the door to his friend's room... but he can deal. Still dressed in scuffed-up kevlar, dirt on his boots, his hair a bit crazy, but without the respirator and sans gloves, he took the stairs two at a time on his way up here. And now he's considering opening the lock, because he can, and just barging in there. But he should give the man a moment, at least. "Charles? The trip is over, I'm back now."

[cerebral]

At least there's movement coming from the other side. After a few moments of shuffling, the door is slowly unlocked and opened to reveal Charles in all his haggard glory.

He stares at Erik for a beat, before grabbing him into a hug. For a small man, he is surprisingly strong when he wants to be. And, for a moment, things feel right because Erik is there, in every familiar, tangible sense of him. And even though he is so very mentally exhausted, Charles can feel out the familiar edges of his friend's mind. And he is relieved.

Although he does manage not to collapse against him. Perhaps any lengthened contact can be excused by his current state before anything else.

[magnetic]

Finally. He begins speaking before the door is fully open, "I've been trying to reach you. You should have seen—" but stops short the instant Charles is revealed. He looks... a lot worse than Erik had anticipated. He was prepared for a stern look, perhaps, and maybe folded arms, but not this. And definitely not this, wow, okay.

"Char—"

It's not that he's rejecting this gesture, exactly, but he's startled as hell by it, and moreover isn't even sure why it's happening at all, so he more or less waits it out rather than reciprocating properly. His arms do relax out of their inelegant stiffness before their bodies separate, at least, so that's...something.

"What? What's happened?"

[cerebral]

"I think," he says, separating and speaking in a weary, clipped tone as he meets the other man's gaze, "you had better come in first."

His hand is shaking as he closes the door after Erik, before turning towards him again. "I went to investigate the fog." It's said quietly. But not quiet scared, or quiet sad, but quiet livid, and he holds that still shaking hand up before Erik can mount his own protest.

"Do you have any idea what's in there? Because I do. And it's much, much worse than what most people believe it to be. And you lied to me by omission and—and the sheer danger. Erik, how could you?"

There's a weird creak in his voice that is threatening to spill into something else, but he presses his lips together until he's sure of himself once more. Instead he simply looks at him in fury —and fear. There is a lot of fear there right now, although it's not fear of him. It's the other sort.

[magnetic]

At first, if only fleetingly, Erik is relieved to realise the problem is that Charles is furious. His mind being what it is, it had turned to thoughts of losing more of his kin—those he's found here—and braced for the worst news, for agony and immediately retaliation. And all of that in mere seconds. A mere moment of dreadful anticipation.

Instead, he follows Charles into the room, passes him after the threshold, turns to watch him close the door. Stands there lean in his flight suit. Physically he is tired, but he is also keyed up to hyper-vigilance by the tragedy that never was, at once bright-eyed and weary—and apparently staggered by this very fine strip Charles happens to have torn from him just now.

He stares. Jaw loose, lips parted just slightly.

Oh.

Gradually, his eyebrows lower, that familiar knot growing between them, but as yet he seems to have nothing to say.

[cerebral]

Finally, he manages to continue on in a slightly more reasonable tone. "I admit that what I did was borne out of frustration and —well, concern. It was stupid, it was reckless, I was extremely lucky to break free and believe me, I am suffering for it now. I have never felt so bloody awful in my entire life. And I am sorry that I let that, and my arrogance, cloud my judgment. I am truly sorry." It's all said so purposefully and deliberate, despite the emotion that threatens to overwhelm him.

"But can you tell me the same thing? Can you? There are people in this city who care about your well-being, Erik. I do, and right now I am too—too, well this—" a hand gesture, and he turns away from him for a moment, exclaiming, "—oh, for God's sake."

Although that last part is more to himself than anything. His shoulders sag and he braces himself against the nearest piece of furniture, as if to get a grip of himself.

But in spite of his efforts, the next part sounds very close to despair. "Erik, it was horrible. It wasn't just the monsters, it was unlike anything, anything— And you were out there."

[magnetic]

Hell. Charles is always so collected, and projects such self-assurance, and seeing him now in such state of distress is... well, it's distressing. It's wrong, fundamentally, and so when he finally responds Erik does so in a careful tone—treading lightly, not only in a metaphorical sense, but in the one and a half steps he takes from where he stood (the most he'll dare).

"I'm sorry that you're upset, Charles, but... it's all right now." Excellent, that came out even lamer than anticipated. In an effort to sound less like he's comforting a child, he adds, "I have no plans to go out there again. It's over with, just like I said it would be."

Not... that this is much better, but hey, he's trying.