Shifter 'verse
AUTHOR: Macx
RATING: NC-17
DISCLAIMER: None of the characters belong to me, sadly. They are owned by people with a lot more money :)
FEEDBACK: Loved
Author's note: yes, I moved Muir Island a little. Actually, all across the Atlantic. Then again, this is an AU.
SUMMARY: A simple visit to Muir Island to talk to Dr. Moira MacTaggart ends with Charles being shot. All the shark in Erik wants is revenge; what he has to do is protect his mate.
x x x x x x x x x x x x x
Winter came suddenly. Or as suddenly as it could in Maine where September was already the time to prepare for cold days, even colder nights, and the occasional snow flake. By the end of October things had gotten significantly more like mid-winter in other parts of the country and the cold winds knifing in from the ocean drove those not used to the temperatures, or just not equipped for them, into their houses or to another part of the country.
For Xavier manor it had meant fixing what needed to be fixed – it was a big house, thankfully made of stone and not wood, but odd repairs and preparations had to be made. For Charles it also meant stocking up the sizable pantry, the cellar and any other place in the house that could be used to store food because a lot of the Cursed living at the manor would also stay there for winter. And if new-arrivals came in, he wanted to be prepared.
Erik had joked about going out to hunt and find them a seal or some dolphin if things turned dicey in the meat department, but his partner had reassured him that there was no need for that.
November started with a mild storm that Erik rode out in the depth of the ocean as he stretched his fins. The trees had shed their last leaves, the ground was starting to freeze and snow was starting to be a regular sight. Forecasts had all the charm of an old rug with the edges chewed off. No one was having any hopes for a let up in the weather. This was a winter that had come here to stay.
x x x x x x x x x x x x x
"He was shot."
The words echoed through his mind.
He was shot.
Charles.
He couldn't comprehend it. Something inside him refused to acknowledge the truth of those words. Something wanted to scream.
"Erik!"
He looked into a pair of yellow eyes, strong hands grabbing his arms. "Erik! Pull yourself together!"
Raven. He always forgot how strong she really was. How supernaturally flexible and agile and strong. She was a Witchbreed Cursed, looking far from human with her blue, scaly skin, the red hair and the yellow eyes. But she could appear human and like a normal girl, and no one would suspect she was this powerful creature.
"Where is he?" he asked, voice cold. She stared at him as if he hadn't really understood.
And he hadn't.
He couldn't.
Charles had been shot.
Erik tried to open the connection between them, but he wasn't a telepath. He was good at close quarters, he felt Charles when they were near each other, but across a distance things blurred or became so obscure, he couldn't even be sure there was anyone there. He never missed it while swimming because he knew and felt Charles was there when he came back, even when he wasn't inside the manor. Charles was a fixed constant in his life now and he belonged.
Charles had been shot.
"Where?" he managed.
"He went out to Muir Island, meeting with a Dr. MacTaggart. She's a geneticist."
He remembered. They had talked about it. Charles had been excited to find a like-minded individual and he and MacTaggert had had long-distance conversations in the past. Finally he had made an appointment with the geneticist and had set off to Muir Island. Erik had been drawn between going along and leaving his lover to deal with the science himself. He wasn't fond of scientists. He had been poked and prodded too often in his life.
Now he wished he had listened to instinct.
Tearing himself out of the grip Raven had on him he made for the door.
"Where are you going?" she called after him.
"To Charles."
"You don't even know where he is!"
That stopped the Shifter. True. Only too true. He had no idea whether he had even made it to Muir Island. Erik had never been there either. It was a big place and the research station, while located conveniently on top of a cliff with access to the cove below, might not have been the target. It might have been Charles himself – while he was outside, or at the beach, or talking a stroll…
He glared at the young woman.
"Where?" he demanded.
"A 'please' would help!" she snapped back. "And I'm just as worried, Erik! He's my brother!"
But not her mate. Not the one who meant more to her than her life!
For Erik the knowledge that something had happened to Charles and he wasn't there to see how bad it was meant torture.
"He's at Muir Island's research station," she finally said, voice tense. "The attack happened there. Some kind of radical group who was after Dr. MacTaggart."
And Charles had been caught in the crossfire. The Shark in him howled in rage, demanded to know who had injured his lover, and he would take revenge.
"She radioed us, told us she has taken care of his injuries, that… Erik!" Raven called after him. "Wait!"
He didn't. He had heard enough.
The Shark was running out of the manor, toward the beach, Shifting before he had even gotten all clothes off. They ripped apart. He didn't care.
The gray-black shark shot through the water, faster than any waterborn could possibly be.
Muir Island was a large, rugged island, the broken off tip at the end of a long peninsula. Countless smaller islands, none large enough to even build a house on, surrounded the immediate area.
He knew where to go.
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The research station on Muir Island had been there for ages. It had been used for various activities, from bird watching to radar to ships' early warning to weather watch and finally Moira MacTaggart had first rented and then bought the ramshackle collection of buildings that had been erected over a long period of time. A historian would probably delight over the many styles, all functional and low-slung to avoid a lot of wind catching. To Moira it had been important that she had enough space for her equipment, could live here and had a good connection to the mainland. Once someone had tried to build a bridge. A few lonely concrete pillars in the churning ocean were witness of that. The bridge had never been completed.
The research station of today was mainly situated in the largest building. The tower that had once been the weather radar station had crumbled and she hadn't seen any use for it. There were assorted other buildings all over the island from the bird watchers, but those, too, had been left to rot.
Getting to the island was child's play in good weather, but tricky navigating on other days. When the winter storms came no sane person would think about even trying the crossing and the insane ones would just cackle and shake their heads. Moira used her weekly runs to gather enough supplies to get her through the bad weather spells and in the past years there had never been much trouble.
This year, just before storm season, trouble had found her.
x x x x x x x x x x x x x
Moira MacTaggart was a tall, slender woman in her mid forties. She had dark hair that she bound back into a pony tail, which had come partially undone. Her clothes were stained by dirt and her blood. She was wearing a jacket against the cold as she met Erik. The Shifter had no problems with the frigid air. He was a waterbound Cursed and he had been in colder waters as a shark.
To her credit she didn't blink twice when a naked man came out of the ocean, stalking up the slope of the beach to her research station.
"You're Erik Lensherr," she only said.
Her voice sounded tired. She looked exhausted.
Erik didn't care.
He pushed past her and entered the station. He didn't have to ask where his partner was.
He knew.
x x x x x x x x x x x x x
Blood.
The smell was heavy and thick in the room.
Charles' blood. Erik would know it everywhere. The taste, the smell, the texture. He had imprinted on his lover's smell and taste.
Now he saw it. Leaking through the bandages around Charles' torso, staining the whiteness, dry and flaking on the exposed skin. Pale skin. Too pale.
Erik felt his feral side push through, wanting to maim and kill, wanting to tear whoever had done this limb from limb.
::Erik::
Faint. Thready and faint and filled with pain. Charles' voice was barely recognizable.
He walked over to the prone man, kneeling down next to the bed. He didn't really see the destruction around him, how furniture had suffered from the attack, how bullets had scarred the walls and annihilated expensive equipment. He had seen it all from the outside, too. Half the main building had collapsed. Whoever had come here, they had been strong or brought heavy artillery. Part of him stored the information, like an afterthought, but his attention was on Charles alone. His fingers brushed over the cool, too pale skin, his mind desperately reaching out to the other man.
::Don't::
Blue eyes cracked open a slit, filled with pain, fighting for control.
"They don't deserve to live!"
::Wasn't me. Not their target:: Charles shivered. ::Moira.::
"I don't fucking care who they wanted to kill! They shot you!"
Charles' presence increased, but it was still faint. ::Erik, please…::
But he wasn't strong enough to stop the Shark. No one could stop him. Not when it concerned his partner.
::Erik! Please! No!::
The darkness on his mind drowned out everything. There was just Charles, his lover and partner. Injured.
Gray eyes, glacial and without a shred of discernible emotion, looked at the prone man. Nostrils flared. Charles was still begging, silently, trying to make him understand.
"Mr. Lensherr."
It had been the wrong move. Erik's head whipped around, hand flinging out, and suddenly Moira was on her knees, clutching at her throat where a silver chain was twisting and digging into her skin, cutting off her air.
"This is your doing!" he yelled. "You did this!"
She wheezed, eyes wide, fingers trying to dig under the thin metal band to release some pressure.
With a last surge of strength Charles presence pushed into Erik's mind, through the fog of rage.
::Erik…! No! It wasn't her fault!::
The Shifter's attention was back on his lover, hand still out and controlling the metal band.
::Please release her. It wasn't her fault. Let her go!::
Charles' mind was getting stronger, all his energy pouring into their link, into his near-order to let MacTaggart go. And he could make Erik do it. One direct order and he could.
::Erik… let her go::
It wasn't an order. It was a request.
Erik looked into the blue eyes, fell apart in their depth, and he caressed the cool skin under his fingers. His hand dropped. Moira fell forward, sucking in great gulps of air. She was radiating fear and the feral part of Erik reveled in it.
::Thank you::
Faint. Breathy. Barely there. Pain was overwhelming the telepath's mind, finally finding the cracks in his shields. Shields that had been barely more than paper thin.
"I've got you," he whispered.
He held on as Charles slipped, catching the weak mind. Erik looked at the other man, felt the shaky contact grow thinner, and he wrapped himself around the landbound.
"Charles," he murmured.
::Don't kill yourself. Please:: was the faint plea.
"I wasn't planning to get killed."
The blue was blurry now, the eyes almost closed. Charles was at the end of his rope. Erik interlaced their fingers, his head sinking onto the mattress. The blood was still everywhere, it still egged the Shark on to take the lives of those who had spilled it. The human side, the logical side, was fighting against instinct, though.
::Don't::
"I won't," he swore.
Erik placed a gentle hand on the bandages, felt the muscles underneath contract with pain and the erratic breathing. He held the blue eyes.
::I'll be here:: he sent. ::With you::
Nowhere else.
Charles slid into unconsciousness with Erik holding him.
tbc...