Here ya'll go. I had to wait till this morning; it wasn't quite finished last night, and I kind of drifted off...but anyway. Thank you so much for the wonderful reviews! I look forward to them so much ya'll are so nice! *huggles* I hope you enjoy the chapter. :)
Chapter 4
Charles remembered crying himself to sleep against Erik's chest, and he remembered being horribly embarrassed about it at first but too exhausted to particularly care. And Erik hadn't known what to do, but he'd been there, and Charles was grateful just for that.
But he must not have woken up, because he didn't remember the gas. He didn't remember being strapped to the table again. A quick scan of the surface of Erik's mind told him that Erik remembered the gas, at least, and the sudden panic. Charles swallowed hard at that part.
And now they were both restrained again, and where was Shaw, and oh dear lord why didn't Erik have a shirt on anymore? Charles had a sudden, irrational hope that Shaw wouldn't come. The last thing he wanted was for Erik to be hurt because he hadn't been strong enough.
Not that Erik blamed him. Of course Erik didn't blame him. But he still blamed himself. All he could think was that Erik had enough memories like this; he didn't need any more. He didn't need to be put through anything that would remind him of what had happened to him the last time Shaw had him in his clutches.
"Erik..." Charles tried to look at his friend, but Erik just looked away.
"Not now, Charles."
Erik was scared. Oh god, Erik was scared. Erik who would board a hostile ship with nothing but a wetsuit and a knife and not so much as a pair of shoes and Erik who hunted Nazi war criminals and Erik who had tried to raise a submarine. He was frightened of what might be coming, and it made Charles want to cry.
Then the door opened, and he wanted to scream. But it would do no good, and it would hurt. His entire body still hurt.
Shaw smiled fondly at Erik as he came in. "Erik. It's been a long time, hasn't it?"
"If you're going to get on with it, get on with it. This isn't the time for games and you know it," Erik answered angrily.
Shaw paused for a moment. "You're right, of course." He crossed to a cabinet at the side of the room and unlocked it with a plastic key. He must have had most of the things in this room specially made, and his preparation was astounding. However, Charles quickly forgot all of that when Shaw turned around with a carefully cut piece of glass in his hand that was meant to look something like a knife. Charles couldn't see Erik's face because he was looking the other way at Shaw, but he felt the reaction. Something told him Erik was refusing to let it show on his face, but...
But Shaw seemed to know what Erik thought anyway. He smiled again. "You remember what one of our favorites games was, don't you, Erik? Granted, this time is different-the knife isn't metal and you can't force it away if you try hard enough-but I think we'll have just as much fun."
And the memories oh god the memories...pain and blood and stinging and cold and metal and tears and Shaw's grin and if he could just make the knife move he could stop it all, but too often it never worked until he was too exhausted and hurting to think about anything but the anger. He-
No. Not him. Erik. Erik's memories, but they'd hit Charles with such force that for a moment they had been his. He was gasping from the intensity of it, and it was all he could do not to let his own tears here and now out from behind his eyes.
Oh my friend...I...you don't know how sorry I am. I never wanted you to go through any of this again. I-
Shut up, Charles. Shut up shut up shut the HELL up and stay out of my head!
Charles recoiled from the vehemence of it, and he didn't understand until he realized that Erik's response was more born of panic and apprehension than anything else and that he was not helping, unintentionally reminding his friend of what Shaw was about to do.
Nonononono...and Charles wasn't even sure which one of them had thought it.
Shaw, meanwhile, had moved casually to the side of Erik's table and begun to look him over, contemplating. Charles still couldn't see Erik's face clearly, but it seemed Erik simply glared at him-both because there was nothing else he could really do and to cover up how much he did not want this to happen.
Erik...
There was no reply, and that was when Shaw settled the the shard of glass over the skin of Erik's forearm and began to draw it across. Erik's jaw clenched, but he made no sound as blood was drawn. He made no noise that time, or the next, or the next...
Sometimes he tensed up and began to blink rapidly, sometimes he made a face, and at times he would even jerk, just a bit, but Erik didn't make a sound as Shaw worked over his arms and his shoulders. Everything else was inward, and Charles could feel it. He could sense the pain and the misery, but only from the perspective of someone on the the outside looking in, because Erik had shut him out.
Erik couldn't truly keep Charles out of his mind, of course, but the walls he'd thrown up made it clear that Charles was not welcome past the surface. Not now. Even when Shaw moved to his chest and the rest of his torso and Erik couldn't remain completely silent any longer, he still wouldn't let Charles in.
Erik, Erik let me help you, he pleaded, wincing as Erik pulled in a sharp breath when Shaw went in a little deeper than usual with the glass. From what Charles could tell from what he'd gleaned from the surface of his friend's mind the cuts hurt, but it was more the repetition, and the sting from all of them that did not go away after, that built in intensity as his body was covered in more and more of the small wounds.
And for Erik, it was remembering what had happened to him as a boy and being just as helpless now as he'd been then.
Charles bit back a sob. Please, Erik, let me help. I can help. Don't shut me out. I don't understand!
And Erik's walls slipped, and Charles understood that he wanted to be the strong one. He didn't want to need help; he didn't want to put more stress on Charles than there already was. He didn't want Charles to relive his childhood with him, and he'd pushed him away.
Erik, you are my friend. You wouldn't leave me alone, and I will not leave you alone. Let me in. You helped me; let me help you...
He didn't listen, and soon it was worse. Shaw began to cut deeper, or to go back and drag the sharp tip of the of the glass through the wounds that were already open, and Erik grunted and seethed and clenched his eyes shut at times, and pulled at the ropes, and if he was going to insist on doing this alone Charles wasn't going to be able to take it anymore.
Erik...he sobbed inwardly. Erik, Erik, I can't watch this.
Then don't.
Erik, please-!
But his friend shut him out again, and Charles would not invade without permission. Not even now. Not into his best friend's mind.
You do not have to protect me...
But there was no answer, and Charles had to look away. He could not stand the sight of Shaw smiling as he cut into Erik's flesh, making him bleed and making him feel like the terrified little boy he'd been twenty years ago. Even without the connection he wanted to forge he knew that was what was happening in Erik's mind. If Erik would let him in they could share it. He could take some of the fear and loneliness away even if he couldn't stop the pain, but Erik knew Charles would be in his memories with him if he did it and he would not let him close.
Not there. Not that. You shouldn't have to, Erik answered finally, even as he strangled a groan. Charles looked back at him, but Erik still would not look at him.
I've seen enough of it already! You know I have. I've seen all of it...
But going through all of it at once did you have time to really feel it? To be there? You couldn't have. He was right. I don't...I don't want you to. You can be the way you are because you were never there...
Please Erik...I'm right here...
But now there really was no answer, and when Shaw let the tip of the glass dig into one of the deeper open cuts on Erik's chest he grunted loudly. His eyes clenched shut, and Charles's did too. He turned away again, fighting back tears.
I'm here, I'm here...
But the mental hand Charles held out that Erik had grasped so tightly before keep him steady was now left empty.
The sounds Erik made behind him made Charles flinch, and flinching hurt. His body hurt, and his head hurt, and his mind hurt because he could do nothing to help his friend, because Erik wouldn't let him in. He would have cried if Shaw were not there. He wouldn't have been able to stop.
And then Shaw stopped. Charles sensed Erik's relief and looked back, and Shaw had crossed to the cabinets again and set down the glass. And Erik...
Charles didn't want to think about how Erik looked. He looked awful. There seemed to be so much blood, even though Charles knew that none of the wounds were life-threatening.
Erik...?
Erik still didn't answer him.
Shaw came back to the table empty-handed, and Erik watched him warily. Tiredly. He was breathing deeply, evenly, and Charles knew he was trying to get past the pain from the wounds that he could not avoid. His set jaw probably would have given that away even if Charles couldn't sense his mental state.
But if Charles could see that, then so could Shaw.
And Shaw was smirking. "That's enough of that for now. We don't need you losing too much blood; that could be a problem. And there will be no dying here unless I say so."
"And that's what it's all about for you, isn't it?" Erik grated out. "Control. Power."
"Among other things." Shaw reached for Erik's hand, and Charles was frustrated beyond reason that he didn't know what the man was going to do. He still could not get used to being unable to touch the man's mind at all. It was infuriating. It only made everything worse. Of course, if he could touch the man's mind they would already be out of this, but anyhow...
When Shaw touched his fingers Erik pulled them back, looking as uncertain and confused as Charles felt. But Shaw caught two of them, and the grin he gave was chilling.
Charles heard the snaps from where he was as Shaw deftly broke them.
"Erik!"
Erik shouted, and kept shouting, because Shaw still held the two broken fingers in his hand, and began to manipulate them-nothing awful, but moving them enough that the broken bones rubbed each other and pinched at flesh and nerves. Tied at the wrists, Erik couldn't pull away enough to free his hand even if he tried.
And he tried. He tried hard, but Shaw kept his grip on Erik's fingers.
Erik!
Erik shouted and twisted, but Shaw would not let go. Soon he was shaking, harder and harder, and Charles tried to reach out to him yet again but by then he was too far gone.
"Stop!" Charles shouted, but Shaw would not listen to him and he couldn't project to him through the helmet. Again, he was helpless.
But then, mercifully, after another minute or two that seemed like eternity, Erik's trembling slowed and his shouting faded away, and his eyes abruptly rolled up into the back of his head. He slumped, unconscious, and Charles sobbed dryly and could breathe again. Thank god...
Shaw raised an eyebrow and came around the table, studying Erik before he turned to Charles. "I wouldn't relax just yet. I could always wake him."
Charles swallowed. "Please don't..."
"I won't, but not because you asked. The fact is, that passing out counts just as much as speaking up." He smiled. "It's your turn, Charles."
Charles's breath caught in his throat. What...?
Part of him was relieved. Part of him was glad that Shaw was going to leave Erik alone, at least for now, but the rest of him was terrified. He felt himself shivering before he could do anything about it, and Shaw chuckled.
"Don't worry; we won't really get started until Erik is with us." He reached for Charles's stomach. "But we can warm up. I doubt Erik will be long."
The button-up shirt was still unbuttoned at the bottom, and it was easy for Shaw to shove it and the t-shirt up and out of the way, to give him access to Charles's now-mottled skin. Shaw ran a hand over it, and the action would have been soothing if it had been someone else, if there weren't so many bruises. But there were. Everything hurt there, and it was Shaw, and it hurt. Shaw began to massage his stomach, a mockery of comfort, and it hurt so badly Charles was trembling as he groaned.
This was a warm-up?
"Relax, Charles. It's better if you relax."
Charles snarled at him, but had to cut off in a cry and he knocked his own head back against the table, willing to try anything to dull the pain.
But Shaw seemed to know that was what he was trying to do, and he squeezed sharply in a place or two, determined not to let him.
"AH! Ahhha..."
He trailed off in something like a sob that shook, and he hadn't meant for it to be that loud, but Erik stirred.
Erik, it is not your fault. It isn't. I don't blame you...
Erik's eyes weren't open yet, but he was awake now, and he was shaking his head slowly to clear it. What...? Charles, what are you talking about?
Shaw's thumb pressed in too hard again and Charles shouted, and Erik's eyes snapped open and his head popped up from the table. For a split second he just stared, trying to figure out what he was seeing, and then he was angry.
God, was he angry.
"What are you doing! I didn't say anything; you can't touch him!"
Shaw, thank god, stopped what he was doing, and his hand moved away from Charles's midriff, and Charles let out an unsteady breath.
"You left us, Erik. You lost consciousness. You had obviously had enough."
Erik's teeth clenched. "But I did not say anything. Get away from him, right now."
Shaw smiled apologetically. "I'm sorry, Erik, but I'm afraid passing out counts."
"You didn't say that before!"
"It wouldn't have made a difference. I doubt you would have been able to help it even if you had known."
"But you don't know."
"Of course I do. Now, if you'll excuse me..." He started to turn back to Charles, and though Charles's heart sped up and stuttered he managed to remember to reassure Erik again.
It's all right; it's all right...
But Erik wasn't listening just now. He pulled against the ropes and straps, straining at Shaw. "Damnit, no! You can't do that!"
"Can't I? It's my party, after all."
In Erik's head a barely contained litany of panic and apology. Oh god oh god, Charles, I'm sorry. Charles, Charles, I'm so sorry oh god...I'm sorry...Charles...
It's all right, my friend...
But it was weak this time. He didn't mean it any less, but Shaw was pressing into his side now, and damnit it hurt, and...and why did he seem to be trying to find a rib?
Charles closed his eyes. No no no...
He would have moaned it, but he wouldn't give Shaw the satisfaction. He wouldn't risk him moving back to Erik already.
Shaw's thumb found what he was looking for, and his short fingernail dug into Charles's skin atop the bone as he began to press down, harder than any human ought to have the right to be able to. Charles grunted and stared at the ceiling, not wanting to see Shaw's face. Though the pressure was only in one small place it was somehow making breathing harder, and he wondered if that was just because he was relatively sure of what Shaw was doing.
"Ah..." It reached the point where something was going to have to happen. Shaw was going to have to stop, or the bone was going to give. NotyourfaultErik...
It gave. It didn't break, not yet, but it cracked, and it was like fire in his chest, and only a strangled groan escaped, but Charles's mouth opened in a silent scream.
Charles!
And Shaw stopped. He didn't snap it completely. Small favors...
Charles I'm so sorry...Erik cried inwardly. He started to pull away in shame and Charles latched onto him fiercely.
Damn you, Erik, don't you dare leave me!
He did it so violently Erik gasped aloud in surprise, but Charles felt him hold on in return again. I-I...I won't.
Shaw began to press down on another rib, lower this time, and Charles swallowed hard. Erik I need your strength...
Erik snorted in his mind, and was quiet when he answered. You have more than I do already. He was ashamed and furious with himself, but he held on because he knew Charles needed him to.
Erik...
But then the second rib was cracking, and he shouted, and he couldn't focus on Erik any longer.