Title: By My Side (3/?)
Pairing: Erik/Charles
Rating: PG13 – R (maybe higher later on)
Category: Hurt/Comfort, Angst
Warnings: Some language, Injured Charles. *maybe* Slash at some point, but not sure yet.
Standard Disclaimer: I own nothing connected with X Men other than a deep affection for the movie and characters.
Thank you Snoopy and Lucas for story help!
Summary: Erik returns for Charles.
"I want you by my side." (Erik to Charles, on the beach)
Part Three
Over the next few days, Charles was kept busy with his new 'team'; a doctor specializing in spinal cord injuries, a nurse, and a physical therapist, each of them possessing some mutant powers. After one day of their fussing, Charles was convinced they were actually trolls that Erik had hired simply to torment him. He found himself poked, prodded and scolded in a mixture of German, French, and English, and decided it just simply wasn't fair.
The first rounds of physical therapy proved to be grueling, and Charles was left too exhausted to think about much of anything. Just sitting up in the wheelchair took an effort as he had to start relearning how to balance himself. He could only sit for brief periods at first, but each time he lasted longer, and after the weeks in the hospital, trapped in bed, he welcomed any additional freedom. Erik had not visited him again, apparently giving him some time to settle in, and Charles was secretly glad for the respite. As much as he needed to talk with Erik, he knew he wasn't in any shape to think too clearly for a while.
The third day, Charles was wheeled out of the bedroom and to a nearby study. Physical Therapist Troll actually smiled as she handed him a phone, tucked the blanket around his legs more firmly, and then tactfully withdrew to a chair by the windows. Charles cleared his throat and then hesitantly lifted the phone to his ear.
"Hello?" he ventured.
"Charles!" The so familiar voice washed over him and Charles felt his heart leap in joy.
"Raven!"
Brother and sister talked for over an hour, laughing, crying. Raven apologized over and over for leaving him, Charles nearly crying as well as he tried to comfort her. He knew she was an adult who had made her choice, as much as it pained him, but perhaps it needn't be such the break between them that Charles had thought it would be. Raven was careful to not say too much about where she was, or what she was doing, but Charles could tell she was well, and that was all that mattered to him.
After an hour, Raven ended the call, promising to call him again the next day and every day after that. Charles was so relieved and happy that he didn't fuss one bit when he was taken back to bed and tucked in for an afternoon nap.
Just as welcome as the call from Raven were letters from Hank, Alex, and Sean, assuring him that they too were well. Charles was a bit amused that it was Sean who had the beautiful, copperplate script, while Hank had the nearly indescribable scrawl of a doctor. But of course, he remembered that technically, Hank had paws now, and perhaps managing a pen was something he was still getting used to. Alex's firm handwriting looked just like a typewriter, and he wrote that they had been promised they could call him soon. Charles quickly wrote letters back to each of them, and Doctor Troll promised that they would be delivered that same day. Apparently Azazel was doing double duty as the local postmaster.
Four days passed before Erik made his reappearance. Charles was collapsed in the wheelchair on the balcony off his room that evening, watching the sunset and trying to summon the energy to decide if he could move or not, when Erik joined him. Charles couldn't help but tense a bit, and then made himself try to relax. The older man looked at him carefully, a small smile on his face.
"You look terrible," he offered calmly.
"Flatterer," Charles muttered, one hand pushing back his hair. Just like Erik to open a conversation with a barb, but he was too tired to protest much. "And you say I have dreadful pickup lines."
"Well, you do."
Charles sighed, trying to hide his own smile. It was easy – and simpler- to hide in the humorous banter they had had before. "Are you here for an actual reason, or is insulting me enough?"
"I was going to ask you to dinner. And I promise to play nice and we can talk if you accept."
"Um…" Charles pondered that for a moment. He was tired, but restless enough to find the offer very tempting. And he did badly need to talk with Erik. "I'm not really dressed for dinner." He'd had a bath (courtesy of Nurse Troll) after afternoon therapy, and was clad in just pajamas, robe, and slippers.
"It's a casual dress code." Erik himself looked surprisingly relaxed in jeans and a simple shirt.
"I'm very angry at you, you realize."
"I know."
"Seriously upset."
"I would expect nothing less."
"I meant everything I called you earlier."
Erik cleared his throat. "Including zebra?"
"Especially zebra," Charles nodded. "But be that as it may, if dinner involves getting out of this room and away from the trolls, then I shall take you up on the offer. You just might have to wait a few months while I gather the strength to move."
Erik moved behind him, and Charles tensed as he felt the wheelchair move. But it was a very slow, careful glide, and he made himself relax as the chair turned around. Erik hesitated, a question on his face, waiting, wanting to ask, but not quite sure how to say it. Charles bit his lip, and took a deep breath.
"Yes, thank you, I would appreciate the assistance," he forced out. He hated it, but this was his new reality.
Erik inclined his head a bit, and the chair moved beside him effortlessly. Despite himself, Charles was excited to get out, and he was curious as they went into a long hallway. At the end a flight of stairs led down a level, and without any hesitation the wheelchair floated carefully above them to the bottom floor. Charles had the handlebars of the wheelchair in a death grip, even though he knew Erik would not let him fall. It was simply already instinctive to hate being manipulated physically because of his condition. Once they reached a large dining room that opened onto a terrace, Charles nodded stiffly.
"Thank you. I believe I have it from here." Erik nodded, and Charles felt the chair settled back on the ground, no longer under Erik's control. The older man tilted his head a bit, considering, as he gave Charles a moment to collect himself.
"Trolls?" he finally asked.
Charles flushed. "Not very charitable of me, I know. But yes, trolls, as in I am positive you found them under a bridge."
"Not precisely a bridge," Erik objected thoughtfully, and Charles sniffed, still confident in his assessment.
Charles looked about the terrace as Erik led the way to the large dining table already set for dinner, appreciating the view of the ocean and the manicured lawns. Well, yes, the South Pacific was definitely lovely, he decided. It was a warm evening, and he felt more relaxed now, even though the discussion with Erik would not be easy. Then he spotted something that made his eyes truly light up.
He was at the sidebar, eyeing the decanter of Scotch, when the tray it rested on moved out of his reach.
Charles stiffened, his jaw clenched so hard his teeth nearly ground. Starring at the wall, he said in very precise tones, "Erik, I am going to have a drink. And if you try to interfere, it won't take any mutant powers from me to make you burst into flames where you stand."
Erik actually hesitated. "The doctors…" he demurred.
"Are trolls," Charles said firmly. "I am very aware of all the blasted medications I am on at present, and it will not hurt me to have one drink. Besides, all things considered, I damn well deserve this."
There was a pause, and then the tray obediently slid back. Charles carefully poured himself a short drink and quickly drowned it, only vaguely appreciating the good stock. He set the glass back on the bar and straightened his shoulders.
"Ground rules." Charles turned the chair to face Erik, who was seated at the table, leaning a back a little. He made a gesture to indicate that he was listening, and Charles took a deep breath. "I have promised to not use my powers unless given permission. You need to do the same." He hadn't had time or ability to realize just how vulnerable he was now in the chair. But of course, his wheelchair was metal; which mean Erik could have total control of him. The drink had been partially to steady his nerves; he hoped the alcohol would kick in soon.
Erik considered, and then nodded his acceptance. "That is fair," he agreed, and Charles could hardly contain his sigh of relief. "Will you come join me?" Erik continued. "We have indefinite time to argue, but the food will stay at ideal temperatures only so long." Charles nodded and steered himself to the table.
A maid came out to serve, and Charles found himself drawn into the civilized tone of the evening. They carefully talked about Raven, the boys, everything except Cuba. All the events of that day were hinted at, but never broached directly until they were finished with the meal and taking tea. Charles didn't mean to be harsh or abrupt, but he could not wait any longer.
"Erik, in Cuba….why did you leave?" he asked finally, his eyes searching for some answer. The sick realization that he couldn't feel his legs had been nothing compared to Erik and Raven leaving. They had left a far larger hole in Charles' body than any bullet could accomplish.
Erik's lips twitched a little, accepting the change in conversation. "What drives all that I do?" he answered. "Anger."
"Oh, Erik," Charles shook his head. "You think that anger makes you stronger, but it does not. In the end, it will only tear you apart."
"And your gentleness, Charles, allows others too much opportunity to use their anger against you," Erik countered. "But I was wrong to leave you. I am so sorry."
Charles knew that apologies were seldom from Erik. He did not apologize for his past, for the things he had felt he need to do in his drive for revenge. "I do not blame you," Charles whispered. "Never that."
Erik seemed to release a breath that he had been holding all evening. He nodded, letting himself unbend perhaps half an inch. "Us fighting one another is what the Humans want, Charles. We cannot allow that to ever happen."
"I do not think they want any fighting."
"They want nothing else." Erik starred hard at the younger man. "You know that from history. We must fight for our species.'
"Why?" Charles felt his heart pounding. "With Shaw gone, why do we have to fight against anything?" How could he accept what Erik wanted? Even as they had flown to Cuba, Charles had felt his friend slipping through his hands. But even when Shaw was killed, Charles had not lost hope, and he knew he would never give up.
Erik leaned forward, one hand almost touching Charles' arm. "Charles, you and I are the two most powerful beings in the world. We have the power of the ages in our hands. How can we not use this opportunity?'
"You also said that we are already the better men," Charles reminded him. "If this is so, then to what ends do we exercise that power?" Blue eyes looked at Erik, pleading, seeking answers. "Power corrupts, my friend. And absolute power…" Charles trailed off, knowing that Erik knew the rest of the statement: absolute power would corrupt absolutely. "Why would mutants seek any war?"
"When it is necessary to protect," Erik said a bit harshly. "We stopped the Human's war, and what did we get for it? Missiles fired at us, Charles; we who had prevented their own self-destruction."
"The desired destruction was Shaw's manipulations," Charles argued. "It was not their choice."
"They made the choice to turn the missiles on us."
"So because of that, because of the actions of a few, you would fight an entire world?" Charles refused to think that was the only answer.
Erik snorted. "Because of what they would do to you!" he snapped. "You could not have stopped them, Charles, from what they wanted to do when they had you prisoner. What they would then do to all Mutants. It is the natural way of Humans; they will destroy anything different from them." His lips twisted. "I know that all too well. Charles, I want to make the world safe, don't you understand that?"
"Safe for mutants only?"
"Safe for you." Erik's pale eyes were intense with something that Charles could not name. "Charles, I said that I need you by my side. That will never change. You say we want different things, and perhaps that is true when it comes to the Humans, but why do you persist in thinking that you and I need to be some sort of enemies? We cannot let that be. We are…entwined….now. It will always be that way."
Charles blinked, trying to absorb the words. Then he had to tear his gaze away from Erik and look out at the ocean. The older man was looking at him in a way that suddenly made Charles very aware of his vulnerability again. He had no idea what to think anymore and he raised a hand to his forehead, rubbing at the ache forming behind his eyes.
"Charles?" Erik questioned, seeing the gesture.
"I am not using my powers," Charles hurriedly assured him. "Simply a normal headache, I fear." He was quite irrationally grateful for the ache and change in topic. He was still not strong enough to fight Erik at length, and that worried him. Charles refused to even consider that Erik would ever harm him, but he didn't know how far Erik's restraint toward Humans would last.
"I did not think you were breaking your word," Erik answered truthfully. "It is from me keeping you out too long. Your trolls gave me rather detailed instructions for your first night out, and I am in danger of violating them."
Charles felt himself flush again; while they had been talking, he had almost been able to forget his new physical limitations. For all that he had no idea what he was going to say to Erik to persuade him, the challenge kept his mind occupied with something other than the harsh reality of his body.
Erik stood, and carefully put their teacups on the table. "To prevent breaking the ground rules," he said, his voice deliberately light, "may I have permission to help you back to your rooms?"
Charles sighed, but had no choice but to agree, trying to give in with some dignity intact. "We are not finished talking," he warned Erik.
"Never finished, I agree."
TBC…..