There's water in his mouth and his eyes and his lungs and he splutters and there's an unfamiliar presence in his mind and a man bobbing beside him who claims to be like him and this is too much, it's too much, what is happening. "I thought I was alone," he pants without meaning to say it, floating helplessly in the water, and it comes out much more pathetically than he wants it to, than he thinks it should, and he wants to take it back immediately, but the other man understands what he means and shakes his head without hesitation.
"You're not alone."
Erik has been alone for so long that he cannot imagine that this statement is true, could ever be true, might even have the inkling of a chance to be true, and so he looks at the man with the blue blue eyes who has pulled him away from a certain death.
"Erik?"
The man is a telepath, that much is obvious, and he's learned Erik's name, and Erik is hit suddenly with the fear of how much else the man may have discovered but at that moment he's hit with a wave of certainty and steadfastness and, weirdly, companionship.
"You're not alone," the man is repeating, again, and the stability is his voice and his kind blue eyes and Erik has never wanted to believe anyone so much in his life. The moisture on his face isn't all from the ocean and he hopes desperately that the man doesn't notice because he hasn't been this vulnerable in years, since before the camps, before Schmidt, and that terrifies him more than anything else. He can't bear the honesty in the face of the other man so he closes his eyes and waits for rescue.
It occurs to him later, as he's shivering underneath a heavy woolen blanket and following the man—Charles Xavier—with his eyes, that nobody has been honest with him for years. That this man's honesty is about the most important thing is staggering and he's crushed, instantly, under the weight of the gift. He can't call it anything else.
The man—Charles, Erik reminds himself—laughs at something an agent says and the sound is so light and carefree Erik can hardly stand it. Charles turns and his eyes meet Erik's and the concern that softens them is almost tangible, and then it is tangible, Erik can feel it on the surface of his mind. There's a lump in his throat and his eyes lock onto Charles's for far too long. Charles's expression gradually sobers and his blue eyes are unreadable when he finally turns away, and Erik realizes with a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach, that this is a man for whom he would do devastating things.
He's almost equally sure that this is a man to whom he will do devastating things and that thought is even more terrifying.
He's so tired, though, he's avoided his emotions for far too long and this much awareness is exhausting, not to mention his desperate attempt to raise a submarine. His corner is relatively warm and he's slept in much less comfortable places so he leans his head back and falls asleep.
He's not sure if the warm hands on his shoulders and blue eyes narrowed in concern are a dream, but he wakes with a pillow behind his head and the blanket is tucked around him with obvious care