A/N: Ahh, it is your favorite slash writer! Me, of course, darlings! As you can tell, I ventured out into this crazy world and saw a moving picture called 'X-Men: First Class'. It changed my life.

Come on. If you didn't see the subtext of their friendship being on the verge of a relationship, YOU ARE CRAZY, SIR.

I hope to explore the craziness that must have been going on with Erik after what happened on the beach. Please endure with me here, okay? We're gonna get through this together. Alright? Good.

So, without any more ramblings from me…here we go!

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Somewhere, A Clock Is Ticking

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I toy with the idea of taking off the God forsaken helmet. I play with the thought for a while.

I sit lightly, almost as if I was trying not to disturb you, as I had been doing nights before while you slept peacefully in the thin sheets.

I try to breathe in with calm and control. With order. With precision. With all the qualities you have that I seem to lack.

I run my fingers over the bedding, fisting the cloth momentarily, easing my grip for a moment, then fisting again. I am rolling with the waves of pain and guilt. I'm trying to cope.

But why is it so goddamn difficult?

I grab the linen sheets, heart bled with rage, as I ripped them from their secure place. You always did spend three minutes in the morning making the bed…so damn perfect.

I am toying with the idea of removing the helmet. I'm putting it into a serious consideration. Because, now, your unmistakable scent is wafting towards me like an airborne disease. I am in the same room where you have slept for your whole life, and I only a night or two. I am overwhelmed by the sudden flood of emotions that take over me.

The undeniably heart-wrenching sadness when I finally knew…you and I were no longer friends.

The shame and the guilt that began to build up inside the second the bullet made contact with your spine.

Bliss. Ecstasy. Delight. Perfection. Waking up next to the one and only Charles Xavier.

Dread. Panic. The thought of losing you when the jet went down.

I am spiraling out of control. This isn't right. I shouldn't be controlled by just the smell of your cologne.

It's as if you can get inside my head, touch the very corners of my mind and access the darkest pieces of me, even with the defenses I have.

I am horror stricken by the very ludicrously sappy thought. Never would I, Erik Lehnsherr, be manipulated in such a way.

Although, stranger things have happened over the course of three months, haven't they?

I can't help but bawl like a child. I'm finally getting it, it's finally sinking in…

I'm alone, aren't I, Charles?

Even with Raven…even in this place I planned on calling 'home'…I have nothing. Nothing without you, really.

I weep, my head hidden in the displaced sheets. I soak it in, the last of you that I have other than the blood that, even after it had been scrubbed from my hands, still lingers on my skin. I can still hear you mumbling over and over…

"I can't feel my legs…" You stifle of a laugh of awkwardness, the way you always do, "I can't feel my legs…" I squeeze my eyes shut. I don't want you in my head anymore, Charles. I don't.

"Erik…you decided to stay."

"I'm not a lab rat."

"Would you…would you care to stay? Just for tonight, I mean…since you're out of bed and everything…"

"Did you know you have the most exquisite blue eyes?"

"Powerful and beautiful. What luck am I in?"

"Erik, you said that we were the better men! Erik, you don't have to do this! Erik!"

You begged me to stop.

That's where the chain of thoughts stop. Charles Xavier begging. Begging.

I am the only man that has ever made you beg. Ever made you cry out, on your knees, begging. I am the only man who has ever hurt you like this. I am the one who has crippled you.

My shaking fingers gently rise from there place in my lap. Like magnets, they pulled the helmet up and off of my scalp, freeing me from the protection. I just can't stand being alone with myself and longer. I couldn't possibly.

All this time, you've been trying to find me. Somewhere, a clock is ticking. Counting down the hours you've spent in and out of rooms and cars and planes. All the blood you've lost. All the tears you've shed without a single soul noticing. All the times you've been screaming out for me, knowing that I was stuck inside my own little world.

I can feel you. You may not know it, but when you probe other's minds the way you do, Charles, we can feel it. This sudden explosion of warmth and just presence.

But you and I? We have this connection now, you see. You've been in my head so many times…now I can read you in a way. I can feel that warmth you bring, I can analyze it like a sheet of data. I can sense your feelings and your fears. And right now, my darling Charles? You've terrified.

You don't speak for a while. You just lend me your presence, you probe me and feel the disgusting things I've felt over the past several hours. You know where I am, who I'm with…you know that I've been crying. You know me inside and out.

And still to this day, when I'm not effortlessly lifting an I-beam with the flick of my wrist or when I'm amusing myself with a quarter dancing in-between my fingers, do you know what I use to find my place halfway between rage and serenity?

The last words you said to me.

"I'm sorry, Erik…I just can't do this. I…I'm sorry."

Somewhere, a clock is ticking. Ticking away the hours until I finally lose my mind. Ticking away the seconds until my heart is ripped like flesh and broken like bones. I am so broken…

We'll meet again one day, Charles Xavier.

I won't ever forget you.

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"In slow motion, the blast is beautiful Doors slam shut A clock is ticking, but it's hidden far away Safe and sound"