A/N: Yup, I'm definitely coming back from the summer vacation updating difficulties. Yay?

Thank you, from the bottom of my heart, for you lovely reviews! It means a lot that you've decided to stick around despite all the difficulties this little one's faced. (Over a year's hiatus being the biggest one of them, I guess…) So THANK YOU!

Awkay, because stalling is never nice… Let's roll! I truly hope that you'll enjoy the ride.

Blurred Identitites

Erik wasn't entirely sure how much time had passed. To him it felt like decades although it couldn't be more than five days. Since he wasn't exactly left with a choice he went with Stryker and the guards. He was drugged for the duration of the journey so he didn't know where he was taken. When he regained full consciousness he was in a painfully small, firmly locked cell. He tried to demand answers, mostly concerning Charles, but no one spoke a word. Food and water were delivered, mostly to be left untouched. He heard guards outside his room at all times and Stryker came to interrogate him so many times that he'd already lost track. But still, as days passed no one answered his questions that were turning into pleas.

Did Stryker keep his word? Was Charles still alive? Was the telepath well?

Despite his best efforts to avoid such Erik was dangerously close to drifting into sleep when words from the hallway floated to his ears. He caught only a part of the conversation but it was more than enough.

"I just did a extra check up on the telepath", a audibly exhausted male voice announced. "He refused to take medication again. 'Didn't look good."

Another man groaned. "I wish that Stryker would let him be sent to a hospital. Sure, he's dangerous but… How the hell are we supposed to take care of him here? What are we even supposed to do to help if he won't let us?"

The first speaker sighed loudly. "'No clue. I just wish that the poor devil won't die on my duty. I'd hate to try and clean up that mess."

Erik found it harder to breathe than it should've been. What he just heard kept bombarding his ears and everything inside him. Fury and sheer terror mixed together effortlessly, like they had through his entire life.

He had to get to Charles. Or no, he had to get Charles out of this cursed place. Before these idiots would kill the telepath.

But how…?

It was then his eyes fell on the meal that'd been brought to him a couple of hours earlier. He paid barely any mind to the rice and what was probably supposed to be a piece of chicken. His entire focus locked on the plastic fork and knife. Slowly yet surely an idea began to form.

Erik stared at the knife, his heart leaping a bit too fast and the sound of his blood rushing echoing in his ears. Yes, he knew that his plan was a stupid one. It might go badly wrong. But he had to try. For Charles.

It took stunningly little effort to turn the harmless object into something quite a bit more hazardous. He looked at the final product with hard, determined eyes. His hand was terrifyingly steady when he brought the self made weapon to his skin.

Well, if they left him with no other choice wasn't it justifiable to return the favor?

Stryker had had a very, very bad day. Past five days, actually. Capturing the great Magneto hadn't solved his problems.

His master plan had been that he'd push and push the metal bender to a point where he'd be able to prove to his authorities, once and for all, that mutants were a great threat to the human kind. So far he hadn't been able to cause even an argument. In fact Erik hadn't spoken a single word to him although he'd heard that the mutant had demanded, quite heatedly, information on Charles' well being. It seemed that his plan was backfiring spectacularly. Instead of a warning to the world Magneto was dangerously close to turning into a martyr. If Erik would die imprisoned by him and he wouldn't be able to prove that the mutant had been a immediate threat he'd be in a world of trouble.

And then there was Charles. He'd been warned of the telepath's detoriorating health but it hadn't truly registered to him until five days ago, when the mutant collapsed during the flight back from capturing Erik and Azazel. It took almost two days before Charles regained consciousness and it was still unclear what, exactly, was wrong. Too much exposure to Cerebro was the best guess but while the doctors demanded a prolonged separation from the device such might be impossible. Although he knew that the telepath was one of the most dangerous mutants out there with his abilities Stryker also realized that the smaller man was vital to capturing the other hazards to human kind. Besides Charles wasn't even a official prisoner. If the telepath would die under his watch it'd destroy his career.

Stryker couldn't help wondering, with a considerable amount of bitterness, at what point exactly the higher ups developed a conscience and all those morals when a blink ago they were fully ready to blow up a group of mutants and even one agent.

His rage was directed at the first object his eyes fell upon, which turned out to be a book on genetics and mutations that he'd been attempting to read. Know thy enemy, wasn't that what they said? He grabbed the book as hard as he could and tossed it towards the room's door with all the force he could muster.

It was sheer luck that he didn't hit the young, pale faced guard who'd apparently knocked at some point and even imagined that he had the permission to enter. The younger man's startled eyes darted towards the book, then towards him. "Is this, uh… a bad time?"

"Yes", Stryker growled because he was too fed up to lie. "But you're already here, aren't you? So spit it out."

In a flash it became clear that the news wouldn't be good ones. The guard gathered his courage for the longest time before daring to actually voice the words. "One of the prisoners, Magneto… We're… not sure how it's possible, but… He managed to hurt himself."

Stryker stared at the other for the longest time, trying to will himself into believing that this was nothing but a bad dream or a horrible joke. There wasn't a trace of mirth on the visibly petrified guard's face. "What the fucking hell happened?!"

Once he first woke up after collapsing Charles didn't have any clear idea how long it took before he finally felt well enough to get out of the bed. He wasn't allowed out of his room, though. Apparently his condition was still too delicate. The four walls were beginning to close in on him.

When the room's door opened he expected it to be one of the doctors or nurses. Instead in walked a morose faced Stryker. "I'm sorry that I have to bother you, but… I'm afraid that we have a bit of a situation with a prisoner."

Charles frowned. He hated the sound of that. "What kind of a situation?"

"He's injured and won't let anyone tend to his wound." Stryker sounded quite irritated. The man's left eyebrow twitched. "Not until he sees you."

A million questions popped into Charles' head. The biggest of them definitely being why in the world would a prisoner want to see him so badly, especially since barely any of them even knew of him. But he wanted to get out of the room and truthfully, something inside him was screaming that he should jump on this opportunity. That this person was someone he needed to see.

So less than ten minutes later the two of them were on their way. Charles couldn't understand why his heart hammered the way it did while he was led into a elevator and, once the heavily silent ride was over, to a firmly sealed door that most assuredly wasn't made of metal. The telepath tried not to see all the guards keeping an eye on the room and the captive inside.

Just before opening the final door separating him from the prisoner Stryker gave him a hard look. "His name is Magneto, or Erik, and he's extremely dangerous. Do you understand? Whatever he may say… Don't take it to heart. There musn't be any metal on you because he controls it."

Charles frowned, not quite understanding the bizarre command. Just who was he about to meet? He nodded, unsure what else to do. It earned him the permission to enter.

A part of Charles expected the reportedly highly dangerous prisoner to attack him, to take any measures necessary to get out. Nothing such happened. Erik was sitting on a bed, his whole tall form unnaturally straight and back towards the door, as the metal bender had without a doubt been instructed. There was a surprisingly visible needle mark marring the man's skin. Charles couldn't understand why seeing it sent a shockwave of sadness and anger through him. As far as he knew this was the first time they officially met. He focused on the helmet sitting firmly on top of the man's head simply to get something else to think about and wondered why a prisoner had been shielded against him. For some reason seeing the item sent tremors of disappointment to his heart.

"I… was told that you wouldn't let any of the doctors see your wound before you got to speak with me." His voice didn't sound quite right. "Why is that?"

Erik tensed up completely, gripping the edge of the bed so hard that the man's knuckles turned white. The disbelieving voice that eventually came out barely carried to where Charles stood. "Charles…?"

The taller man bounced up and turned before Charles managed to respond in any way. Their eyes met, a overwhelming amount of relief and joy in Erik's gaze clashing uncomfortably with the confusion and hesitation in Charles'. Too much, all of it.

Erik frowned, obviously not understanding his guardedness. "Charles? What's wrong?"

Charles gasped, only then realizing that he must've been holding his breath for a while. "Am I… Am I supposed to know you?" He asked although everything inside him knew the truth. His heart was beating impossibly quickly and it took just about his all not to…

Erik shivered like someone who'd just been shot. The joy in those eyes died out, stolen away by a dark cloud of shock and rage. The sight broke Charles' heart and although he didn't have the slightest clue why he felt a desperate need to apologize.

Neither managed to speak. It was impossible to tell if Erik sat down or whether the tall mutant's legs simply gave out. Charles himself was barely able to move while he made his way to the other, following a urge he couldn't understand. As though hearing his thoughts despite the helmet Erik moved his shirt just enough to reveal a deep gash on his arm. It was still a bit messy but at least the bleeding had stopped. A stab of pain crossed Charles. "Why did you do this to yourself?" escaped before he could stop it. It sounded far more agonized than he'd anticipated.

"I wanted to see you and this was the only way they allowed it. It's not as painful as it looks." Erik's hand twitched and moved an inch closer to him before the other changed his mind. Those eyes examined him intently. "You haven't been sleeping or eating enough. You're ill."

The genuine worry in that voice stunned Charles. Focusing on the task of inspecting the wound was becoming increasingly difficult. "It's just a bit of fever." His hand lingered on the other's skin and he couldn't resist the urge to give it a caress. He licked his lips when Erik shivered with pleasure under his touch, realizing that at some point his mouth had gone painfully dry. "You shouldn't do this if you want to see me, Erik. Or… Would you prefer Magneto?"

"It's Erik." The voice was quiet but firm yet there was a clear undertone of… despair, almost. "You've always refused to call me anything but Erik."

Charles looked towards the prisoner's face, chills he couldn't understand going all the way through him. Breathing was a taunting task and suddenly his hands weren't quite steady anymore. It took far longer than it should've before he managed to look away from those dangerous, alluring eyes and focus. "The wound doesn't seem infected but it needs to be cleaned up quickly. It needs stitches, too." He frowned, trying to understand although his mind was in a state of chaos. His hand still lingered on the other's unexpectedly soft, warm skin, unwilling to move away. Like touching this stranger had been the most natural thing in the world. Erik didn't seem to mind, either.

In fact the metal bender chuckled briefly. The sound pleased Charles a lot more than it should've, filled him with unexpected aching and longing. "There are perfectly capable physicians in this building who could've told me that", the taller man pointed out.

Charles swallowed loudly. The tremors spread from his hands to his entire body. "Then why aren't you letting them look after you?" Despite the fact that he knew it was horribly dangerous and even idiotic he lifted his gaze to meet those eyes once more.

Erik was looking back at him and there was so much in that gaze that it took his breath away. "I already told you. I wanted to see you." Even with the helmet shielding him away Charles could tell that those words were sincere. It was also easy to tell that voicing them, admitting all the feelings that lay behind them, wasn't easy on the other mutant.

Charles blinked once, twice. It was almost there, on the tip of his mind, but he couldn't quite grasp it. The pieces of nearly surfacing memories were sharp and painful, seemed to tear wounds to his brain. Why did it hurt so much to be around this man? And why did it still feel so very right to remain close? "Who are you?" he managed with unexpected difficulty.

Erik emitted a brief, mirthless lagh. "I… I have no idea anymore. But I know that you're the biggest part of it. And I'm not letting them make me lose you again."

Charles' eyes widened and locked with those hazardous ones, not knowing how to let go. Without him even noticing it one of his hands found Erik's and held on tight. The metal bender responded with even more fervor, urgency.

Erik's lips opened but before the words came out the room filled with guards. Along with them appeared Stryker, a unreadable look on his face. "So… Satisfied?"

Erik nodded with very open hostility, refusing to utter a sound.

"Good. I'm sending in a doctor, then." Stryker turned around and began to leave. "Come along, Charles. There's a new assignment at hand and you need to rest before facing it."

Charles followed only because anything else would've led to more problems. And frankly, if he hadn't left then he wasn't sure he would've been able to do so at all. Losing contact with Erik's hand left him feeling cold and hollow.

He didn't speak until they made it to the elevator. "Why did you make him wear that helmet?" It sounded far more like an accusation than it was supposed to.

Stryker appeared surprised for a moment. The man glanced towards him. "What makes you think I did?"

Charles inhaled a deep breath. The headache he'd been having since waking up was intensifying. "It was written all over him how much the helmet bothered him. You didn't answer my question."

Stryker's jawline tightened. "I did it because he's the master of manipulation. And if I'm to be honest I don't trust you to be well enough not to fall under his spell if he'd lured you into looking at his mind."

The mistrust hurt deeply, especially when Charles hadn't given any reason for it. He gritted his teeth and folded his arms. His head was killing him.

"Come on, now", Stryker beckoned stunningly softly when the elevator's doors opened. "I'm escorting you back to your room. You need rest. After that we'll talk about this new situation and what happens next."

Charles followed because honestly, what else could he have done? After a lot of coaxing they gave him some more medication and while he hated it there was also a hint of relief. Maybe some rest would do him good.

The last thought Charles had before sleep took him under was a desperate, overwhelming plea that one day soon he'd get to go back home, wherever it might be.

That was how the two remained, once they'd both been tended to. Lay on their beds, Erik wide awake with smouldering, agonized eyes open and Charles sleeping fitfully, nightmares he couldn't quite understand haunting every moment. And although there was a disheartening amount of doors and walls between them they curled so that had they been in the same bed they would've fit into each other's arms perfectly.

TBC

A/N: Okay, my heart broke just a little bit at that. Those poor things! (winces)

Soooo, how was that? Any good at all? We're quite close to the finish line, actually. I'd suspect that there's around five chapers, maybe less, to go.

I've really gotta dash now. I truly hope that I'll see you all next time!

Take care!