Wonder of wonders, Erik had fallen asleep against Charles' shoulder within minutes of the train leaving the station.
Charles couldn't believe it. He hadn't imagined Erik would sleep, that he could sleep like this, traveling as a passenger within a large metal object under the control of anyone else. He barely even slept in the Blackbird, whether or not it was in the air. What made a train so different, there was no knowing, not unless Charles woke Erik up to ask him—and that he was simply not going to do. It would be good for Erik to get some sleep, and they were in no danger.
Well. Some. But not that much, all things considered. While this wasn't a Mutant-Free Zone by any stretch (they never could have gotten past the checkpoint if it were, even if either of them had been willing to try), still, there were no known Sentinel stations anywhere along this route.
The only real danger was that they could be recognized, but that was unlikely. Charles was dead, after all. No one was keeping an eye out for a man who'd died years before being a mutant had become illegal. And if anyone was looking for the Master of Magnetism, well, no one would expect to find him curled up in a window seat, snoring softly and drooling onto his seatmate's jacket. Charles was paying attention, picking up the surface thoughts of everyone they'd spoken to, everyone who'd seen them, and so far no one had had a moment's suspicion about two old men who were on their way to be married. It was one of telepathy's great secrets: no one really pays that much attention to anyone else unless you give them a reason to.
Probably this whole idea was foolish. Certainly everything about it was selfish. But in the years since Charles had come back, waking up to find all the ways in which the world had sprinted toward the worst in his absence, and in the almost two years since Erik had joined their small group, they'd barely had a moment to themselves. They were ever on the move, always strategizing, going on rescue missions, performing acts of sabotage, picking up and moving on before they could be captured or worse, always having to stay ten moves and three safe houses ahead of the game. They rarely ever had even an hour to themselves. Charles couldn't remember the last time they'd had a quiet conversation or been able to make love without being interrupted. They now said more to one another mind-to-mind in a day than they had for the entire forty years before that—and yet, though they were closer in some ways than they had ever been before, they'd missed each other sorely, too.
A day there, a day back, and three days in-between to catch up with each other—to re-learn each other's bodies over hours instead of minutes, to reminisce and laugh with each other for more than five seconds without having to turn their attention to something else.
They couldn't even be married under their real names—but they needed this. They needed something to hold onto, Erik and he, a light in the darkness to look forward to and back on. They'd never needed it more than they did now, when the hour was so dark and the future so bleak. Foolish and selfish it might be, but the resistance would muddle along without them for a few days, or so they'd been told.
Charles had hoped they could talk during the train ride, even if they had to keep to innocuous subjects out loud. But somehow, he found he liked this just as much, and wrapped an arm around Erik's shoulders, to keep watch until he woke.
//
As per usual, Erik nodded off as soon as their journey started. They had barely even begun to move before he was snoring in Charles' ear, a whistling and snorting that hadn't grown any more endurable for Charles having had twenty-odd years to get used to it. He just didn't understand how the same man who could drive for twelve hours on three hours' sleep (without once allowing Charles to have a turn at the wheel, mind) could immediately require a nap on the train when he'd had a full eight hours the night before.
Well, that was fine. Charles was more than capable of entertaining himself. He'd brought reading materials in case he needed them, but it was more than likely he wouldn't, or at least not for long. There would certainly be the opportunity to meet other travelers. Charles had always enjoyed making new friends on the train, especially people with young mutant children or grandchildren, who were the most likely to recognize him from his books, and with whom he could discuss the future educational opportunities of said children or grandchildren at length.
Mid-March was likely not the best time to elope with almost no notice for the rest of the school's staff, who'd have to take over both their classes for the next two weeks. At the same time, it was overdue—really, they ought to have married years ago, when it first became legal in New York. But the timing had never seemed to be right to take a honeymoon, and neither of them had wanted to be married in the Clerk's Office in the morning only to be back to their regular lives by the afternoon. There wasn't any romance at all in that.
The timing wasn't good right now, either—even less so than it would have been in the summer months, in fact—yet when Erik had brought up the idea the night before, it had seemed that if they didn't carve out the time for it now, it would never happen. That was abjectly ridiculous, as they could have at least planned a few weeks or months in advance, but still, Charles couldn't bring himself to regret the impulse, or the fact that they were now here, on their way to Florida. It was supposed to snow in North Salem tomorrow starting in the afternoon, and there was nothing to regret about the notion of being out on the beach in the sun by then.
Charles did regret that he hadn't eaten breakfast before they'd left, but he wasn't all that hungry yet, and by the time he would be, well, he could just nudge Erik awake and send him off to fetch something from the lounge car. For now, he wrapped his arm around Erik and opened his book, really much more satisfied and content than he planned on admitting later.