I'm sending this with three orphans. They are too young for the Brotherhood. They need a well-rounded education, but since yours is the only I can offer them it will have to do. They are not from the same family, but they found each other in the streets of Birmingham. Treat them well. I will be back for them.
- - -
[ he sends letters. there's never a return address. the psychic residue is thick with regret and hesitation, the clenched-jaw kind that ends with broken pencils and torn paper until erik starts using pen and thick stationary. the first was mere days after their parting, when he'd heard. he waited, unable to say what he meant, feeling cowardly for putting it in writing when he should be saying it in person.
"i should be there," he had said, pacing in the luxurious room of the penthouse apartment emma had found for them.
"why not skip that step and deliver ourselves into the hands of the CIA now?" emma had arched a brow.
"charlotte would not betray us," he snarled. 'she wouldn't betray me, he thought, over and over; 'her words... her words were the folly of the moment. we are blood, she feels it as deeply as i..' "she would never give us to them."
"she wouldn't have to," emma had retorted, exasperation coloring her tone. the woman had the right of it, much as erik hated to admit it. charlotte was being watched, and any movement on his part would be intercepted. so he kept his distance reluctantly, using the tools he had. telepathy was too risky, for even though he trusted charlotte, it wasn't enough to ensure she wouldn't try to interfere. letters, then. he wouldn't remain silent. ]
- - -
Charlotte,
You certainly raise the bar for talking heads. We all had fun taking bets on how many insults you could sneak past that idiot cronkite. Top form, Charles. If only you could be as scathing with your policy as you were with your wit, the world would be better for it.
I notice—as have the others—you haven't revealed yourself as a Mutant to the public. They call you an advocate, a sympathizer. As one of those you feel such sympathy for, I must say I find it demeaning. Who are you to position yourself as our spokesperson? A professor of genetics? Many university professors toured this country selling scientific racism to the masses under the guise of verified fact. Why hide yourself, Professor? Are you afraid of the consequences, were it known you were a Mutant? Do you fear what the humans might think, might do? I wonder what your motivations are. I wonder, Charles, whether you're ever honest with yourself now you have no one to truly challenge you to face these questions.
OU
CharloProfessor,I'm sending this with three orphans. They are too young for the Brotherhood. They need a well-rounded education, but since yours is the only I can offer them it will have to do. They are not from the same family, but they found each other in the streets of Birmingham. Treat them well. I will be back for them.
- - -
[ he sends letters. there's never a return address. the psychic residue is thick with regret and hesitation, the clenched-jaw kind that ends with broken pencils and torn paper until erik starts using pen and thick stationary. the first was mere days after their parting, when he'd heard. he waited, unable to say what he meant, feeling cowardly for putting it in writing when he should be saying it in person.
"i should be there," he had said, pacing in the luxurious room of the penthouse apartment emma had found for them.
"why not skip that step and deliver ourselves into the hands of the CIA now?" emma had arched a brow.
"charlotte would not betray us," he snarled. 'she wouldn't betray me, he thought, over and over; 'her words... her words were the folly of the moment. we are blood, she feels it as deeply as i..' "she would never give us to them."
"she wouldn't have to," emma had retorted, exasperation coloring her tone. the woman had the right of it, much as erik hated to admit it. charlotte was being watched, and any movement on his part would be intercepted. so he kept his distance reluctantly, using the tools he had. telepathy was too risky, for even though he trusted charlotte, it wasn't enough to ensure she wouldn't try to interfere. letters, then. he wouldn't remain silent. ]
- - -
Charlotte,
You certainly raise the bar for talking heads. We all had fun taking bets on how many insults you could sneak past that idiot cronkite. Top form, Charles. If only you could be as scathing with your policy as you were with your wit, the world would be better for it.
I notice—as have the others—you haven't revealed yourself as a Mutant to the public. They call you an advocate, a sympathizer. As one of those you feel such sympathy for, I must say I find it demeaning. Who are you to position yourself as our spokesperson? A professor of genetics? Many university professors toured this country selling scientific racism to the masses under the guise of verified fact. Why hide yourself, Professor? Are you afraid of the consequences, were it known you were a Mutant? Do you fear what the humans might think, might do? I wonder what your motivations are. I wonder, Charles, whether you're ever honest with yourself now you have no one to truly challenge you to face these questions.
Knight to F3.
Erik