A/N: Someone needs to stop me. I keep writing. WHAT EVEN?
Ahem. Anyway.
A short "what if?" drabble/oneshot pertaining to the ending of X-Men: First Class. Feels about as slashy as the actual scene in the movie, so if you felt like it was strictly friendship in that moment, then cool! This works for you! And if you thought it was a sweet, hidden romantic thing during that scene, then awesome! This still works for you! ;D
In Charles' POV, if you couldn't tell straight away. And yeah, I guess this is technically AU, at least for the ending. #shrug#
His blood is running down my hands, pooling in the lap of my bodysuit, dripping onto the sand. It's a deep red, lighter on my hands and nearly black in the sand, and it feels almost burning to me in the Cuban sun, and it's thick and sticky as it starts to dry where it's splattered on my chest. It's like a rush of crimson all over me, and its acrid scent of iron is so strong that it's making me sick.
I can't withhold the tears that brim my eyelids; it's impossible not to have them when I peer down at his agonized face littered with sand and a bit of blood from when I touch it lightly. His helmet has fallen off to the side, teetering back and forth in the sand as Moira stands not too far off, shock on her face, and Raven rushes over to both of us.
"Charles, is he going to be all right?" Raven says in a panic. "…Charles?"
I can't answer her, as much as I want to. The bullet wedged itself in his shoulder, near his right pectoral. It's an obvious hole in his suit, and it's bleeding profusely, and I wish I knew more than mutations about the body; I wish I could tell if the bullet hit an artery or something.
"H-Hank?" I call out, because he's a scientist and not quite a doctor even if he has a doctorate, but he still knows more about the human body, I like to imagine. "Raven! Get Hank!" I tell her, turning to her and practically begging with my voice.
I refuse to lose anyone on this island, especially after all we just went through as a group. And Erik is my friend; I'm not about to let him bleed to death.
Erik is panting heavily in my arms, and seems to be trying not to pass out or go into shock. His eyelids flutter, and I tell him urgently, "Stay with me, Erik. I need you to focus. Keep your mind sharp."
A faint smile touches his lips. "And you… would know… all about that, eh, Charles?" he breathes, and he spasms with a cough, wincing and groaning when it jars his shoulder, tugging on the torn, bloody flesh. "Need… to get the bullet out…" He grunts, and before my very eyes, I see him pull it from his shoulder with a howl, the bullet flying into his left hand. "Dammit!"
"It's okay, Erik, you did well; it's out, and it can start to heal, now, if we can just patch you up…"
Suddenly Hank is there, on Erik's other side, and he's leaning carefully over, blue, furry hands moving into my line of sight. "I made sure there was an aid kit in the jet; I'm just glad it wasn't too banged up," Hank murmurs in his newly lowered voice, and starts to try to fix things. "He should be fine, Professor."
"Yeah, I'll… l-live," Erik confirms stubbornly, heaving a shuddering breath as he sucks in air at the sting he must be feeling from Hank's hands working on his wound, cleaning and covering it with supplies from the kit. Erik scowls faintly. "But those rotten… humans… lived, too? Didn't they, Charles?"
I flinch a little even as I keep him propped up and stabilized in my arms and on my lap. I can still feel his blood on me, and as unsettling as that is, at least he's going to be all right. I shift almost imperceptibly. "Yes. You dropped the missiles somewhere in the water near them when you were shot. They're safe. And I know that only troubles you further, but understand and respect, Erik, that it brings me relief to know."
He snorts, but it turns into another groan. "I… bet it does," he grinds out from clenched teeth. He squeezes his eyes shut for a moment, brows trembling, as Hank pulls away.
"That's about all I can do. Now we need a way to get out of here before the navy of either country out there comes after us," Hank says worriedly, and I nod in agreement.
"Where is the teleporter? If he is willing, it would be a blessing for him to take us away from this place," I say, glancing around, still cradling Erik in my arms as I bring him into a slow standing position. He winces and leans his weight against me, and I gladly act as his crutch.
The red-skinned devil-looking man comes before us. Without Shaw around, he seems more compliable. He nods curtly, as I take that as affirmation that he'll escort us all off of this island.
"The closest place I can take us is Florida," he informs us. "And everyone will need to be connected in order to travel together."
He doesn't say much else, and I take what I can get. I spread the message to anyone he might not have heard, and soon, we're all clasping hands, and in a puff of smoke, we're away from the worst of the danger, barely escaping with our lives, but escaping nonetheless.
Erik will heal, but I get the feeling that he won't stick around after he's back to his usual self. He'll most likely leave; the moment on the beach showed me how different our views are, and that will hinder our relationship. And I'm not sure what the future will hold for me, but I do, however, plan to make the most of it while I can, forever persevering toward a brighter future.