Okay, really sorry this took longer. I went on a trip over the weekend and couldn't write and had no internet access. But I'm back now! And I'm done working for the summer so yay! More time to write for the next week or two until school starts! Hope ya'll are still out there and not too annoyed, lol. Can't wait to hear from ya! *huggles*

Chapter 7

Erik didn't know how much more time had passed, but it had to have been another two or three days, at the least, making it at least five or six days that they had been here, or since they had been captured in Russia. Possibly more. They didn't know how long they were out when the gas came, and there was no way at all to tell time in here.

Despite what they had agreed, neither he nor Charles could bring themselves to purposely say anything to Shaw, at any point. The unspoken agreement between them seemed to be that if they couldn't do that, then allowing themselves to lose consciousness instead would have to do. Erik knew Charles could do it on purpose on with his abilities, and he hoped his friend was taking advantage of that. But he could never tell.

The sessions grew shorter as both of them weakened, and Erik wondered how much more either of them could take. Most of the other bones in his hand large enough to break were now broken, and small burns covered his torso along with the shallow and not-so-shallow cuts. Charles's cracked ribs were now broken ones, and he had two broken fingers of his own, and Shaw, of course, never passed up an opportunity to freshen up the bruises that riddled his body.

Charles was becoming increasingly unresponsive even when they were alone, and it worried Erik to no end. Even if something changed...if something happened and they got out of this alive...Erik was beginning to fear that his friend might never be the same again.

"Let him go," he said finally. Begged. He had never begged anything of Shaw and had sworn he never would, but Charles was worth it. Charles was the only thing that would ever be worth it. Charles himself was unconscious just now, and it looked like Shaw was going to leave. The man paused in reaching to untie Erik's good hand and cocked an eyebrow at him.

"You know I can't do that, Erik. Your telepath friend is too valuable."

"But I'm the one you really want. You've always wanted me back." He swallowed. "Let Charles go, right now...and I'll stay.

Shaw smiled a bit. "Gallant of you, Erik, but I'm afraid that won't do. Do you have any idea what the three of us could do, together? I start the war that rids us of the humans; with you we could go anywhere, build anything...and with Charles with us no one could stop us. We could enslave anyone who thought to get in our way and make them like it. We could rule this world."

"You have a telepath. You don't need him."

"Oh please. I'm suspecting that Emma's powers are nothing compared to Charles here, and I think you know it too."

"I doubt Emma will be happy to hear that," Erik deadpanned.

Shaw smirked. "She'll live. If she's good, of course."

Erik was quiet for a moment, glaring at the man. "Let Charles go," he repeated firmly. What he hoped was firmly. "He'll never give in to you. He won't help you. He cares too much. The only chance you have at either of us is me-if you let him go. If you don't you'll never have either of us. I'd die first."

"We'll see about that." With that Shaw crossed back to Charles, and for one horrifying moment Erik was afraid he was going to wake him up and hurt him again despite the usual rules. But instead Shaw began to untie him, and this time he freed him completely, pulled him off the table himself and dumped him unceremoniously on the floor.

This time landing woke Charles up instead of the other way around.

Charles shouted as he came to with a start, and Erik immediately latched onto him in their minds to help calm him. It took effort; the impact hadn't helped him at all. Through the bond Erik knew how much pain Charles was in, though he couldn't exactly feel it himself. But he knew.

The bond was subconscious now-something Charles had forged between them and finally made self-sustaining because maintaining it consciously had quickly become too difficult. So it was always there now, and for Erik it was a glimpse of how Charles lived every day. He could sense everything Charles felt, hear the thoughts he projected overtly and even many of those he didn't. Though the point, of course, was to share what strength they had-just to be there.

Shaw stepped over Charles without giving him so much as a glance as he tried to catch his breath, and untied Erik's good hand before leaving, the door locking behind him as always.

Damnit.

Erik freed himself, though he couldn't do it quickly anymore, and slid carefully to the floor. A rather shaky step or two brought him to the other table, where he collapsed against the base by where Charles lay, both of them panting. Because he was too weak to do much else-and because it had been established the last time they'd been left alone that it hurt too much now for Charles to sit up, even with help-all Erik could do was pull his friend's head onto his legs. Not that it would help much, but at least his legs weren't at hard as the floor.

"Charles?"

Charles only glanced up at him for a moment before his stomach made an awful sound and he grimaced and looked away, arms wrapped around his middle.

"Erik, if...even if he doesn't kill...us himself...we'll starve to death...eventually..." It was more than he'd said aloud in a while.

Shaw still had not fed them at all, and Erik had begun to wonder if perhaps starving them into submission was part of the plan. Give in before their bodies gave out-either from the abuse or the lack of sustenance. If Shaw continued to withhold food there were only a limited number of weeks they could last, and the fact that they were no longer strictly healthy would not help.

"I know," he swallowed. Besides everything else that hurt he ached all over from want of food after what must have been nearly a week. Nausea was a constant companion, and he knew it was no different for Charles.

Erik also knew that Charles was weaker than he was right now, the worst injured of the two of them, smaller in the first place...he knew that if in the long run it came down to starvation that Charles would go first. The last thing he wanted was to watch his friend die, but at least it would be easier on Charles that way, not having to see him die...

But then again, how strong was the bond? Was it strong enough that if Charles didn't think to release it Erik would go with him if anything happened to him? Part of him almost wished it.

NO. He couldn't think like that. Charles would pick up on it, and he didn't plan to let it happen in the first place.

"Charles..."

Charles grunted weakly. "'M sorry...too early to worry about it..."

And Erik was realizing that even if they did get another chance at Shaw without the helmet on, Charles would never be strong enough to influence him unless the man gave them a much longer break from all of this-which didn't seem likely.

"Much too early. We'll get out of here."

"You don't believe it," Charles swallowed, eyelids heavy.

Erik couldn't answer because he didn't want to lie again, and when he looked down Charles was quiet and unmoving, and his eyes were closed.

"Charles?" No answer. Erik didn't know why he panicked. He shouldn't have, but he wasn't satisfied until he'd checked for a pulse. After all, all of the damage Shaw had done...there could easily be internal bleeding, and they would have no warning of that. So then again maybe the panic wasn't completely unfounded.

But Charles was fine for now; he was unconscious or asleep, and Erik didn't know which but at least he wasn't hurting. His cheeks were flushed though, now that he looked-and why hadn't he noticed before? it was glaringly obvious, as pale as Charles was by now-and when Erik held his good hand to his friend's forehead it was warm.

Damn. A fever. Some sort of infection somewhere? He had no idea what to look for or where to look, if it would be internal or external...and why was Charles the one getting sick when he was the one with the cuts and burns left to the open air? But of course that would be just their luck.

Erik swallowed when he remembered that infection, sickness...either would severely shorten the amount of time that Charles could last like this.

When he tried to pull his hand away from Charles's forehead it trembled, and he abruptly placed it back over Charles's hair and left it there, fingers soon winding through the damp strands and clumps.

When Erik realized, some time later, already half-asleep, that his thumb was absently stroking his friend's forehead, he didn't stop himself.

When Charles woke up face-down on the table he knew Shaw had changed the game. It wasn't supposed to be his "turn" but this hurt as much as if it were. Beyond the bruises that ached the pressure on his chest and the broken ribs had his chest on fire, and it wouldn't stop. He suspected that if the table didn't have an incline that focused some of his weight elsewhere he might have suffocated before he'd even woken.

Breathing had been painful before, but now it was hard. To do it anything nearing comfortably he was forced to push down at the table with some other part of his body to pull his chest off of it at least a fraction of an inch. Otherwise the expansion of his chest against the hard surface pushed at the broken bones, moved them, and the pain was that much worse. And with what little strength he had, doing that-pushing up from the table a bit almost constantly, against the straps and ropes-was not easy. Soon enough Charles was soaked in sweat yet again, an it took him that long to be able to focus on anything else.

When he had he almost wished he still couldn't.

He'd woken facing the other way and hadn't had a chance to change that, and behind him Erik was screaming.

Erik screaming was a deeply disconcerting thing to hear to say the very least, though terrifying would be a much more accurate word. Erik did not scream. Not unless he had no choice. Charles didn't want to look, but through the bond he knew without seeing that Shaw was taking advantage of his friend's damaged hand yet again. It had become his standby with Erik, and it seemed worse each time so it still fit within Shaw's ridiculous rules.

Erik...Erik, I'm sorry; I'm here now...

About damn time-!

Charles winced, but he wasn't offended. They were well past that by now, and he knew Erik was in too much pain to realize that he'd had his own problems. He said nothing else. He just held on.

A few moments later Shaw finally, finally paused long enough for Erik to really catch his breath.

Charles, I'm sorry...oh god, are you all right like that? Can you breathe? The thought was dim and weak, thready from Erik's lack of focus as his hand throbbed, but it was there and the concern was real.

I am alive, was all Charles allowed. He was too exhausted and hurting to lie. They had been trying not to do that more recently, anyway. Not that they didn't. Finally, though, he picked his head up enough to turn it to the other side, so that he could see his friend. You?

The same, I suppose. Alive.

Shaw, meanwhile, when he that Charles was with them, smiled. "Ah. So good to see you, Charles. I was just hoping you would join us soon." Charles just glared at him as he continued. He began to pace a bit, hands comfortably draped behind his back. "You see, I'm afraid I can't afford to be patient much longer. Quite a bit has happened since you two have been here. The Russians have missiles bound for Cuba, they as well as the Americans are sending fleets...it's all going to come down to a very interesting encounter at the embargo line very soon."

So that was how he was going to do it. Start nuclear war.

Charles's jaw clenched. "And?"

"It'll be a matter of a very few days. So we really need to wrap this up."

Then he was going to kill them. They weren't going to have time to starve. Charles supposed he didn't have many regrets, but for the fact that Shaw was probably going to succeed now. Personally though, no real loose ends in his life-not with Moira gone. Oh god. Now he was blinking back tears again. Shaw couldn't see that.

Still, he wished he could see Raven again. Just once. Hear her laugh at him and tell him he worked too hard and let her snuggle up to to be read to sleep once more. Part of him worried because he had wanted to always be there, to protect her, but he knew she could take of herself.

Charles, stop it!

He blinked, surprised at the strange exchange of roles. Usually he was one to respond to thoughts because only he could. He'd forgotten that the bond let Erik in on his stronger private thoughts, too. There had been no way to prevent that. It wasn't perfect and it had been formed and solidified in haste, using what stronger telepathic energy he'd had left when he'd done it.

He's going to kill us, Erik. We won't join him, so he'll kill us. Waking up like this, on his stomach where it would hurt him even while Shaw was hurting Erik...it should have been the first clue.

This isn't over, yet. He won't give up that easily, Erik insisted.

But Shaw didn't elaborate. He went back to work nudging Erik toward unconsciousness, and Charles had to shut his eyes.

Erik understood.

Even though Hank, Sean, and Alex hadn't known Erik and Charles for long, they cared enough and were angry enough over Shaw's attacks that they all agreed to help immediately as soon as Raven had formulated a tentative plan-or starting point, anyway-from Moira MacTaggert's reports related to Shaw.

Moira. Raven couldn't help but wonder if, wherever Charles was, he knew that she was dead. Either way, even if Shaw hadn't done anything to him she knew her brother would not come out of this unhurt. She had already picked up on the fact that he cared about Moira before they left for Russia.

Charles would miss her, and it made Raven's heart ache.

But for now, her main focus was on getting him back alive. Erik, too. Though she didn't like him as much and really she didn't want anything to happen to him mostly because she knew it would crush Charles.

Getting McCon to agree to provide transportation to Las Vegas to allow them to check out the Hellfire Club again was not easy, but here they were. They were still casing the place, still out in the main casino, and watching the boys trying look like they knew how to gamble would have been funny if she weren't so on edge. The only thing that helped was when she occasionally crossed paths with Hank. He made a habit of squeezing her hand, and it managed to calm her a bit.

"How long do we have to do this?" Sean whispered the next time she passed him, tugging awkwardly at the jacket he was wearing. He wasn't so used to nicer clothes. He didn't like them, Raven had gathered.

"Until I've pinned down someone I can imitate that will get me in downstairs," she hissed back.

"Why don't you try using Angel?"

"That'll probably work once I get into Shaw's little hideout, but I have to get into the club first. They may not know who she is."

"Well hurry up."

She knew she needed too, and she began to circle back towards the club entrance again, waiting for someone to come out and leave for the night that she could go back in as. But the night was young, and people leaving for good for the night were scarce.

And something else was giving her a sense of urgency-something in the back of her mind that she couldn't put a finger on. As long as they had been close she liked to think she could feel her brother...feedback from his telepathy, maybe, or maybe something else. She thought she felt it now, but the feeling was so weak she could easily be imagining it, hoping it...

She'd tried calling out to him, but there had been no answer. If he was anywhere in range he was either unconscious or too weak to respond..maybe too weak to really hear her at all.

Raven didn't want to think about what that might mean.

When Erik finally fell silent and went still it was easier to breathe. Just a little. But Shaw was still in the room, and he wasn't leaving yet, and Charles couldn't imagine anything the man might do to him that he could take for long at all when he was already having problems thinking straight because he was pinned face-down like this, chest still on fire...

Shaw ambled the three or four steps over to him, rested a hand on his back in a mockery of a friendly gesture. "And how are you doing, Charles?"

Don't push down don'tpushdowndon'tpushdown.

Of course he did.

Charles strangled a cry, but enough of it got out that Shaw smirked.

"I apologize, but we really do need to speed this up." He leaned close, as if imparting a great secret, and as he did he was still pressing on Charles's back.

Charles's fingers dug into the edge of the table.

"I think it's only fair to warm you that this was the last usual round. Losing consciousness isn't going to count anymore because I'm going to expect it and you'll see why...but if you say something this time, Charles, I'm afraid Erik is going to die if he doesn't agree to join me. You may want to keep that in mind when we begin." Shaw grinned, and all Charles could do was stare at him in horror. "Whether you want to tell Erik that is up to you."