I woke to shaking. Opening my eyes, I was greeted to a very worn looking man. "What?" I muttered, turning back into the couch so I didn't have to look at him.

"I have had enough sleep." he stated. I groaned, I wasn't sure I wanted to know what that meant.

"Go back to bed!" I pretty much growled into the cushion. "I haven't."

"I'm going to go now." He didn't sound so firm, almost as if he were testing the waters. Yet, I sat up giving him my full sleep depraved attention.

"Where?" I rubbed my eyes, trying to make him out in the dark.

"Back to my men, I'm sure they're curious as to my whereabouts." He plopped down beside me on the couch. I leaned into him, my head still fighting the upright position.

"Victor would've done been here if it was safe." I'd thought of taking him back at least a hundred times, but I'd finally drawn the conclusion: he was safer here until he was fully healed.

"Perhaps," he seemed to chew on that answer, before responding. "Unless, he were hurt and then the others would have no idea where to find me."

I shook my head into his shoulder, "Your best bet is to lay low until he does come. Less chance of getting nabbed by the cops..."

I felt his arm come around my shoulders, stroking my loose hair. "You make a valid point, but I cannot waste away here when my fellow comrades may be hurt or waiting on me."

I sighed, "You leave, you can't come back." I felt him take a deep breath, and quickly tried to explain. "I can't do that, what y'all did. I'm not a fighter, and I was lucky last time to escape. You leave and you take the chance of someone reconizing you, I can't allow you back cause they might come after me. I'm not a fighter Eric."

He growled, his hand gripping my arm, pulling me hard against him. My eyes flew open, finally able to make out his piercing icy gaze as he was only scant inches from my face. "Your no better than Xavier and his X-Men!" his voice was rough with emotion and anger. I reached up trying to push away from his chest, finding it bare beneath my hands. We tousled for a moment on the couch, each of us refusing to use our powers against the other one for our own reasons. He finally wrapped me in his arms, pinning me with his body against the arm of the couch.

Tears dripped from my eyes, my emotions quickly taking over. "I can't kill, I can't stop a bullet, I wasn't made for fighting Eric!" I was terrified of what he might do. Even hurt with broken ribs, stitches, and a body covered in bruises, he'd easily overtaken me.

His eyes, so bright and cold, were the only thing I was able to make out other than his silohuette. "I saw you kill, do not tell me 'you can't'. It is nothing, but a mere excuse to cover your fear. No one is made for fighting, we simply learn." His voice was harsh, his breath warm against my cheek, but he loosened. "You won't have to stop a bullet, because I am here to do it for you." His voice had grown incredibly soft with that statement and I turned my face back to him.

"You can't be there all the time." It was a simple truth, but a cold hard fact none the less. He loosened his arms, holding his body off of me at this point, and I didn't move for fear of reviving his previous anger. My hands had never moved from his chest, in fact they'd ended up pinned there, and I didn't move them now, afraid I'd have no leverage. "I got lucky killing that man. I feel bad, but it was him or Victor and I made a choice. If it had been different, if it had been him or me, I don't know if the answer would've been as easy."

His eyes moved from one of mine to the other, seeming to search for something, but I had nothing to give. There was nothing else to explain, I'd made my decision, once he was gone I would never hear from him again. "You'd rather stand aside and let your kind die by the hands of cruel inhumane prejudices than stand by me?"

I shook my head, "I'll live a normal life, doing no wrongs, keeping my morales intact, not breaking any laws. I'll live as they say we're not capable of doing. I'll be an example. It's not an active role, but it is needed."

His mouth moved, but no words came. I watched as his brows furrowed, his lips twisted, and his eyes again searched mine. I had fought and debated with my inner demons, now he just had to accept it. "I cannot say I approve..." he whispered, his voice trailing off. I nodded in understanding. "I will not force you." He stated it louder than his previous words, and my eyes widened, the possibility had never held much wieght until he had actually said it.

I started to say something, but my words were lost as he moved. His body was stretched over mine, his legs tangled with my own, his groin pressed intimately against my own, and my body was finally taking note of the handsome man. My pale hands over his wide sculpted chest, his eyes standing out in the blackness, his hair hanging down around our faces, I felt my body respond to the male above me even as I hoped he didn't notice my new predicament.

He bent down, claiming my lips firmly with his own. I gripped at his chest, hoping he wouldn't stop his invasion. His tongue danced with my own, demanding it to yeild to his moist heat, his lips pressed against mine so hard it would probably end in bruising, his hands clasping my arms in an unbreakable grip to hold me there. I wasn't moving though, I was enjoying the dominance, the pure taste of man and iron, the overwhelming heat his body seemed to brand my body with. I wasn't moving, I was trying to keep him there. I wrapped my legs around him, my nightshirt pooling up around my thighs, my arms went around his neck, my hands clawing for hold in his hair, I wanted him. His lips never ceased their angry branding as his hands moved down my body, gripping my thighs as he pressed himself hard against me.

I groaned into him, but felt the dampening tell tale sign of my arousal in response. He pulled away, breathless as I was. His hands firmly gripping me still, mine still buried in his silky soft hair. I wasn't sure what to do, my mind had completely fogged, it was like I was taking a backseat in my own body. He didn't seem much better as he rolled off me into the floor.

I sat up, holding my middle in an effort to keep my hands from shaking. He crouched in the floor by me, running his hands through his hair. Neither one of us could look at the other, and as the minutes passed it became more uncomfortable. I should've done something, should've got up when he asked, should've fought harder, I should have done anything.