Title The third who walks always beside you 11/18
Fandom X-Men First Class
Pairings Erik Lehnsherr/Charles Xavier/Gabrielle Haller, in all possible combinations.
Beta cicero_drayon
World count of chapter 3286
Word count of entire fic 94 000
Rating/warnings NC-17. Sexual situations, mental illness, professional misconduct, period homophobia, ableism and racism as well as casual misogyny, discussion of genocide and sexual abuse.
Disclaimer Marvels owns it, not I.
Summary After a chance meeting, the recently reunited mutant school-master and leader of the Brotherhood both become fascinated by Gabrielle Haller, a human who has demons of her own to fight. As Erik finds himself pulled between his mutant identity and his human heritage, Charles wrestles with his own ethical code and his attraction to his friend. The innocent distraction between the three of them rapidly grows more complicated and, ultimately, altogether more sinister.
Author’s notes I’m not dead! This chapter is rather short, but there’s two much longer ones being betaed at the moment, so I think it’s safe to say that we’re back in business.


There was spring in the air. As if their newfound shared love had spurred the weather on, it was getting warmer. New York felt a new place, and Charles’ wish to go back to the mansion early disappeared. His presence there had been given a new purpose, which he happily embraced. It was a few days after their first encounter, and afternoon was drawing towards evening, when there was a knock on the door. Charles had sensed Gaby entering the hotel, but it was not until that worldly announcement of her presence that he truly felt it. His heart skipped.

‘Come in!’

The door opened and Gaby stepped in. His joy at seeing her was only dimmed by the worry on her face. It looked like she was trying to keep a happy countenance, but her smile was forced, and soon faded.

‘Gaby,’ Charles said, smiling at her. She tried to smile back, but then took to chewing chewed her lower lip instead.

‘Hi. I didn’t want to disturb you, but...’ Charles took her hand and guided her to the sofa.

‘You’re not disturbing me at all, my dear. I’m on holiday, remember? I have nothing to do.’ Gaby dipped her head, her eyes set on the floor. ‘Bad day?’ She nodded. ‘Any particular reason?’

‘Nothing but the usual, really,’ she said and bit her lip.

‘Which is...?’

‘The other girls,’ she explained. ‘They tend to...talk behind my back.’ Charles frowned.

‘Whyever so?’ Gaby shrugged.

‘Any reason they can find. That my clothes aren’t new enough and that I’m too thin and that I just want to read my books and have no mind to snare a husband. But today...’ She broke off and bit her lip. ‘It was different. One of them had seen me with Erik. I don’t know when, but... They started pestering me for details, and when I wouldn’t give them to them, the things they implied...’

‘Whatever they said, they were wrong,’ Charles said quickly and took her hand. She pressed his gratefully. ‘I know that’s cold comfort, but...’

‘Not when coming from you,’ she said, sounding sincere. ‘I know they’re wrong, but it doesn’t make any less hurtful. Usually I can brush it off, but... I’ve tried to make friends with them, but they don’t seem to want anything of it. I’ve been there for years, so it’s not about to happen, I suppose.’

‘Then it’s their loss,’ Charles said, even if he could not help thinking that it must be lonely if the people at the office treated her like that. Hoping to lighten the mood, he looked at his watch and said: ‘It’s half past five - should be late enough for a drink. We could have dinner later, if you’re up for it?’

‘I would be, yes.’ Charles felt her watch him as he wheeled over to the drinks cupboard. When he had poured them a tumbler of scotch each, Gaby rose from the sofa and took hers. Charles moved closer, moving his glass between his hands as he turned one wheel at a time. They did not speak any words, only raised the glasses in a toast. After they had tasted it, Gaby kicked her shoes off and curled up in the corner of the sofa.

‘Do you think it’s obvious?’ she asked, looking him in the eye. Charles frowned.

‘What?’

‘That there’s something wrong with me,’ she said. ‘Do you suppose that they can see it? Is that why they dislike me?’ Charles thought about it, not certain what would be the right reply. There was something about Gaby which betrayed something, not necessarily her mental state or her personal history, but something hinting on past hardships. On the other hand, he was not certain if he saw it because he expected it.

‘I shouldn’t think so,’ he said. ‘I’m afraid people are not very bright, most of the time.’

‘I suppose not.’ Gaby sipped her scotch again and relished the taste. ‘This is very good,’ she observed.

‘Erik gave it to me, just the other day,’ he explained. ‘He knows my taste in scotch quite well, it seems.’

‘You look much better than on last Sunday,’ Gaby said tentatively. Charles shrugged.

‘I feel much better, but that probably looked worse than it was,’ he assured her. ‘I’d been careless, simply - I forgot about my evening medication, and, well, the sleeping arrangements that night weren’t very comfortable.’ Gaby nodded a little, looking pensive.

‘But... would you want it to happen again?’ she asked. Charles smiled. Somehow, her anxiety over if it pleased him.

‘I’d love for it to happen again.’ She smiled back and leaned closer. They kissed, open-mouthed but still restrained. There was a familiarity to her kiss, which surprised him. It was certainly something he could grow used to. He enjoyed the touch of her lips, and the way she smiled when they drew apart, pausing to look at each other. As she settled back into the corner, she put one foot on the edge of the sofa. Charles took hold of it and pulled it towards him. She watched him in bemusement as he held it between his hands and inspected it. It was small and delicate, and he enjoyed how easily he could hold her heel in his hand. Gaby wriggled her toes at him, and he rubbed them playfully. That made her laugh into her scotch. He sipped his drink too and watched her. Her eyes shone, her mood quite opposite to what it had been a while ago.

For a long time, they simply sat like that, content in the silence. After a while, however, Gaby raised her foot and traced his lapel, and then said:

‘Tell me about Erik and you.’

Charles’ surprise was apparent, because the playfulness in her face disappeared, and she drew away her foot, as if afraid that she might have angered him. He looked away and bit his lip, searching for an appropriate answer.

‘There’s not really much to tell,’ he said finally.

‘It seems like there is far too much to tell,’ Gaby said knowingly, but without a smile. Charles sighed. He had not expected such clear-sightedness from her.

‘That’s true,’ he admitted. ‘I just... I find it difficult to talk about it.’ Gaby shifted and watched him questioningly.

‘Why?’ she wondered. When Charles shrugged, she added: ‘Are you ashamed of it?’ He laughed hollowly and looked away from her again.

‘I suppose I am,’ he said. ‘It’s something which comes about from hiding in plain sight, I suppose. Knowing that there are parts of oneself which would disgust the most tolerant person... it’s bound to take its toll in some way.’ It did not go only for sexual preferences, of course, but it was easy to pretend to her that it was all he was talking about.

He was surprised when Gaby put her hand over his. When he looked up, he was met by her eyes, watching him searchingly.

‘Are you still in love with him?’ Charles struggled to lie.

‘When one has cared for a person, part of that will always stay with you,’ he said, and then added, ‘I’m glad he’s still my friend.’

‘A friend you share a woman with,’ she reminded him.

‘Well, yes.’ That was not really the common definition of friendship. It had doubtlessly added a sexual component to their relationship again, even if it was not strictly between them. ‘I understand that Erik told you about this,’ he said instead of pressing the matter further.

‘He didn’t tell me much,’ she said. ‘Only that you’d been lovers, and that he felt guilty about something.’ Charles looked away. He sensed Gaby hesitating, but then gathering her courage. ‘Was he there, when the accident happened?’ Part of him wanted to tell her sharply not to ask and leave that topic alone, but he restrained himself, not wanting to snap at her.

‘Yes,’ he said shortly. ‘Yes, he was there.’

‘Was that how it ended between you...?’ Charles drew for breath sharply, momentarily losing his calm. Gaby drew away her hand, obviously realising that she had trespassed on something. ‘I’m sorry,’ she said. ‘I didn’t mean to upset you. I just want to understand.’ She paused, and admitted: ‘I feel like I have a right to understand.’

‘With things being as they are...’ Charles said with a sigh and pushed his fringe out of his eyes. In principle, he agreed. It seemed only fair that Gaby should know in what she had been landed. In practice, it was far more difficult. He barely wanted to think about it - finding a way to speak about it felt too difficult. He wished suddenly that Erik was there, because he would have known how to curtly but not impolitely cut the conversation short. He had half a mind to make Gaby forget what they had been talking about, but of course he could not. When he looked up at her, she averted her eyes and tugged at her sleeves instead. He could see from her face that she was trying to find something else to ask.

‘What do you think is better?’ she asked finally. ‘For a man to love another man, or a woman to love two men?’ Charles could not help to be surprised at the question.

‘In what way? Morally? Legally? Medically?’ he asked. She shrugged. ‘Well, promiscuity is certainly frowned upon, but at least it’s legal.’ Gaby nodded thoughtfully.

‘And what does the medical profession think about it?’

‘Some might look for a psychiatric explanation - for example, an underdeveloped sense of morality, an overdeveloped sex-drive. As for homosexuality, it all depends on who you ask.’ That was a part of his medical studies Charles had never enjoyed. Finding the cause for his telepathy had been an adventure, but trawling through the countless potential explanations of his sexual orientation had been oppressive. ‘Some think that it is purely a biological state, caused by hormonal imbalances, but there is little to no evidence to support that theory. Most will put it down to psychological factors, the result of an overbearing mother, an attempt to find a surrogate for an absent father, or simply of some confusion between the genders.’

‘And you? What do you think?’ Gaby asked. He sensed that she had wanted to ask if any of the theories were right about him, but she decided against it. Explaining his own professional views on the subject was difficult enough. It took him a long time to gather his thoughts, and to figure out how to explain this without bringing up the issue of telepathy.

‘To me, homosexual tendencies have never seemed contrary to the character of the person in question,’ he said slowly. ‘It’s never seemed like a deviation from a healthy norm. I think it’s simply an alternative way of being.’ Gaby frowned.

‘Then how come you’re ashamed?’ Charles smiled to himself. She had indeed put her finger on the contradiction.

‘Shame isn’t a rational process,’ he said. ‘I can know that something is not wrong and yet feel it is.’

‘Do you feel it’s wrong?’ Gaby asked.

‘Don’t you?’ Charles answered.

‘I don’t know,’ she said, obviously uncomfortable with the question. ‘I haven’t really spent a lot of time thinking about it before, but...’ She gathered her thoughts and explained: ‘I don’t believe on judging people just because it’s my first impulse.’

‘Wise,’ Charles conceded.

‘And it doesn’t put me off,’ she continued. ‘I got to know both of you before I knew this, and it doesn’t change anything.’ Charles nodded gratefully, but still thought that it would inevitably change something. He did not want this to come between them, especially not after his recent talk with Erik. Not knowing what else to say, he took her hand and said:

‘Let’s go find Erik.’ She squeezed his hand and smiled, but Charles had a feeling that she was simply letting the question drop out of courtesy to him. Still, all through dinner and their discussions, which were finally interrupted by smothering kisses, the topic seemed forgotten.

***

It surprised Charles how the extraordinary situation he had found himself in soon started feeling completely normal. They were finding a natural rhythm according to which to live their now intertwined lives, and new routines started forming. Charles took most of his meals together with Erik, and Gaby often joined them in the evenings. Once they came to her flat for dinner, but the cramped space made it difficult for Charles, and it was an ill-hidden secret that the glamour of the hotel attracted her.

As Charles had predicted, they still met in pairs as well. He himself took her to the theatre and Erik took her dancing. More often than not, however, the third party would join the pair eventually. Charles’ suite was their usual place of rendezvous, enough that after a week of having to sneak back to her apartment in last day’s clothes, Gaby left a few blouses, fresh stockings and underwear, as well as a hairbrush, in an unoccupied drawer. Charles did not quite know why this pleased him so much. A few times when he was on his own, he had opened the drawer and touched the fine fabric of her stockings, marvelling that a woman would be attached enough to him to leave such things in his room.

A side-effect of the newly achieved normality was that time seemed to go faster. The middle of March came with startling rapidity. The scene in Charles’ bedroom that morning felt almost domestic, if only for how often it occurred. Charles, still in pyjamas and dressing-gown, was considering what to do that day. Erik was pouring coffee into cups which room-service had, to all intents and purposes, accidentally left in the suite - Charles had felt that asking for three cups at this time of the morning would raise a few eyebrows, so he had planted an innocent suggestion into the maid’s mind. Gaby, in the meantime, was sitting in front of the mirror, only half-dressed, combing out her long hair. When Erik crossed with the coffee to her, she put down the brush and, smiling her thanks, took it.

‘Do you have a busy week ahead of you?’ she asked and sipped the drink. Erik snorted.

‘It does not seem that way.’

‘But surely your business doesn’t run itself?’

‘Business is a little slow at the moment,’ Erik said grimly, and cast a glance towards Charles, who raised his eyebrows. He had not heard anything about the Brotherhood’s progress with the Sentinel program for a long time, and here, it seemed, was the answer.

‘So that... new business opening you told me about...?’ Charles said slowly, giving him a significant look. Erik shrugged.

‘Inconclusive,’ he said, half under his breath.

‘Do you enjoy your work?’ Gaby asked, looking at Erik through the mirror.

‘It has its uses,’ he said, eyes meeting hers in the glass and then moving to her back, which was turned to him. Charles watched how Gaby pulled her hair over her shoulder to continue brushing it, and Erik reached out to touch the exposed neck. She closed her eyes momentarily, smiling. The contact did not last long, no more than a few seconds, before Erik stepped away again, but that touch had made Charles’ stomach clench oddly. Immediately he turned his mind to analyse it. Was he jealous? he wondered. To his annoyance, he found that he might be, although he was not certain towards whom it was directed. As Erik stepped away from the mirror, Charles wheeled himself closer and stopped just behind Gaby. She looked over her shoulder and smiled broadly at him. Charles smiled back and plucked the brush out of her hand. Gaby looked surprised for a moment and then laughed.

‘Just look straight ahead, and I’ll do it for you,’ he told her, moving her hair to her back again. Gaining control of her laughter, she obeyed, and Charles felt himself relax as he drew the brush through the hair. For a while, they were all silent. Then, Gaby spoke.

‘Erik?’

Erik, who, judging by the rustle of paper, was looking through the newspaper, gave a responding, ‘hm?’

‘Would you come to the synagogue with me on Saturday?’

Charles was sitting with his back to Erik, but he heard the unmistakable sound of a cup being knocked over onto its saucer. When he looked around, he saw that much of the coffee had spilt onto the newspaper, which Erik was trying to dry with a hastily found handkerchief. Turning back, Charles continued brushing Gaby’s hair. It seemed decent to distract her from their mutual friend’s shock. When he finally answered, his voice sounded a little too tense to pass for normal.

‘I don’t think so, Gaby.’

‘Why not?’ she asked in a tone as if she thought he was merely being boring.

‘I’m... very out of practice...’

‘All the more reason to go.’

‘No, I...’ Erik broke off, uncharacteristically lost for words. Charles decided to step in.

‘It’s only Tuesday,’ he pointed out. ‘If the service is on Saturday, that gives Erik plenty of time to make up his mind, doesn’t it?’

‘Oh, you’re right,’ Gaby said and shrugged. As she twisted her hair up into a bun, he handed her the hair-pins, and considered his own plans for the week.

‘I was thinking of visiting the Guggenheim today,’ he said. ‘I think they’re open rather late, well after you get off work. Fancy coming with me?’

Gaby took the hairpin he was offering her, but did not answer immediately.

‘No,’ she said at last, her voice oddly cold. Then she added, very quickly: ‘I don’t like art very much.’

Charles looked at her, perplexed. What did she mean she did not like art? He knew for a fact that that the opposite was true. He recalled how she had spoken of her parents and their paintings. She had smiled at the memory... But then Charles stopped himself, and realised that that was just it. The thought of art upset Gaby much as the thought of worship upset Erik. Art had been what her parents had lived for, and in a way, what they had died of. He considered arguing, telling her that the fact that her parents had been more interested in art than in the world around them did not mean that she should forswear herself the joy of beautiful paintings... But he knew that he would be wasting his breath, and probably upsetting Gaby too.

‘Alright,’ he said kindly. ‘Then come for dinner tomorrow, at least.’ Now she smiled at him.

‘That sounds good.’

Erik, who must have taken Charles’ intervention as an opportunity to fetch clean clothes from his own room, entered.

‘What have I missed?’

‘Not much,’ Charles said. ‘I was hoping to lure Gaby to go to the Guggenheim with me...’ But before he had time to finish the sentence, Erik said:

‘I’ll come with you, if you want company.’

Charles met his eyes, surprised but pleased.

‘If you want...’

‘I’d love to,’ Erik said, sounding sincere. ‘I’ve never been.’ Charles grinned.

‘You and me, then?’ Erik nodded. ‘Today?’

‘Yes.’

At that point, Gaby got up, stratching her head and frowning.

‘I had a spare blouse here somewhere...’ Erik looked around.

‘I saw it just a moment ago...’

Together, they started looking for the escaped blouse. Charles, who felt he would be little help, simply smiled at the two of them and crossed to the wardrobe, already trying to decide what was most appropriate to wear at an art gallery.