Okay, so school is going to be busy I can tell, but I can write on the weekends at the very least, perhaps some during the week...so expect updates on weekends, usually, I think. That goes for any story of mine during the school year. Anyway, hope ya'll are still around, lol. And I just updated the Doors they Opened, too, for anyone who hasn't seen that yet. Not many reviews on that one yet and something very interesting happens at the end...*X-Men fangirl giggle*
Okay, shutting up! here's the chapter; please do enjoy. :) Can't wait to hear from ya'll! Thanks so much!
Chapter 11
Despite the somewhat encouraging beginning of the first day Charles was awake, things otherwise got off to a rocky start.
Charles seemed to have enough determination not let himself sink wholly into despair, but neither was he all right. He let them let the boys in to see him soon enough, and he never turned anyone away, but it was obvious to Erik-and, he thought, to the rest of them-that Charles would rather be left alone. Though why he would want to be left alone with the things that must have been going through his mind Erik could hardly fathom.
Maybe he didn't want to burden them. If so, it was a load of bull and Erik wasn't having any of it. He didn't say anything, but he rarely allowed Charles to be alone during daylight hours. If he wanted to sit and brood he could do it at night when normal people were sleeping.
Charles would consent to play chess with him, and conversation was not nonexistent, but after that first night when he'd woken he refused to speak about anything in regards to his legs, or Shaw, or what had happened to them. Erik had never been one for talking so much about such things himself, but he knew that Charles, at least, would never heal unless he did. He was different. He wanted to bottle things up for the sake of others, but it wasn't good for him.
But until Charles decided to open up again all Erik and Raven and the others could do was take care of him, and even that was hard sometimes when he didn't want the help even though he needed it. When the catheter came out he needed help getting to the bathroom, and until he had enough of his strength back to figure out how to manage to change clothes on his own he needed help with that, too.
He hated it. They all knew he hated it, but nothing was going to change it. He didn't seem to want to so much as look at the wheelchair that was by his bed now, and once he was strong enough to get into it himself he only used it to get to the connecting bathroom or to move about in his room and get back to the bed. He would not leave his room, and he would not come downstairs even though there was an old service elevator he could have used.
Charles was hiding from reality, and Erik knew it. He smiled and he told them he was all right and he managed to seem amiable enough, usually, but the room Erik had taken was next to Charles's. When he passed his friend's door on the way to bed at night he heard muffled crying more often than he wanted to admit to himself, and sometimes through the shared wall he heard more than that-a frustrated, inarticulate shout or a crash or a loud thump. He always tried, at least, to reach out to his friend, but when he called to Charles silently he was quickly told that everything was all right and to go to sleep. When he made it as far as Charles's door he was quietly begged to leave before he could even get inside. He wouldn't know what was broken until morning, and even then they wouldn't talk about it. Erik would clean it up under Charles's apologies in his mind, and then set up the chess board atop the comforter.
Raven began to make sure nothing remotely vulnerable was in reach of the bed before nightfall.
Erik didn't know how else to help, but he was the only person in the house who could really cook at all. That left it up to him to make certain Charles was well fed, and he went at it with a vengeance, too, trying to put meat back on his friend's bones and hoping it would do some good. If there were leftovers Raven and the boys could have at them, but otherwise they were left to fend for themselves-not hard, with the huge pantry that Raven had had stocked before they arrived.
After two or three weeks or more Charles's doctor told them that though he was still rather sore the tissue damage from the deeper bruises was healed enough that he could start to train his upper body-strengthen his arms and torso to make it easier to do things for himself with his dead legs. Erik knew Charles wanted that, but he didn't seem to want someone he didn't know coming to the mansion to help him do it. So Erik took on that job, too, and soon there was a small set of weights in Charles's room.
It was the only capitulation Charles made, in admitting to any of them that everything was very different now. He still would not talk about it-about how it was different and how much it was affecting him, or what he planned to do now, or anything of the sort.
"What happened in Cuba?" he finally asked, over a chess game.
Erik's eyebrows went up at the question. "Nothing. There was a standoff at the embargo line, but the Russians ordered the missile ship to turn around. It turned around, and that was that. It didn't cross the line. There was no conflict."
"Emma Frost and the others?"
"Didn't show. Raven stayed here to watch you and the rest of us even flew all the way out there to be sure, but nothing happened. They didn't show. Without Shaw I doubt they care much one way or another about the plan anymore."
Charles's brow furrowed. "They'll make trouble again. I'm sure Ms Frost will, at the very least."
Erik's jaw set. "We'll be ready for them."
Charles only nodded wordlessly.
"Hank says he could rebuild Cerebro. Here, if you wanted," Erik said then, just to prompt further conversation.
"Hmm?"
"We could find other mutants. Maybe we could help them."
It was the wrong thing to say. Charles looked away, swallowing, and suddenly all Erik could think about were the weeks they'd spent circling the globe, tracking down the mutants Charles had identified with the first Cerebro. Those weeks were the happiest Erik had been in his life, and he knew it could never be like that again.
Charles, apparently, was thinking the same. He was glaring at his legs now, arms crossed over the chest of the navy blue cardigan that he wore over only a t-shirt. Never leaving his room he hadn't really bothered with the usual sophistication of his wardrobe since waking up; there were only sweatpants under that.
"Charles, we could still do it." It would be different, with Charles in a wheelchair...but they could do it. At first it certainly would not be as carefree, but they could get back to that. In time. Erik had to believe they could get back to that-that this didn't change everything, forever, irrevocably...that Charles was still Charles beneath the pain.
Charles just pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed. "I don't know, Erik..."
That was the end of it, but only for now. Erik wasn't going to let him simply give up on his life. If he didn't want to work with mutants-if he wanted to go back to the university and teach with that degree of his or some other such thing-Erik would support him, as long as he did something. Though his opinion, of course, would always be that Charles should be working with mutants. What else did it seem right for one of the most powerful mutants on the planet to do?
But Charles didn't see himself that way. At least not now. Simply because of his damaged body he seemed to see himself as damaged goods now, which was ridiculous.
He didn't have to be able to walk to be one of the most intelligent men Erik had met in his life.
But he tried not to judge. He couldn't judge Charles. It had only been a few short weeks, and he knew it would take time for him to adjust to his condition-to come to terms with it. Erik helped in every way he knew how, but it would be up to Charles to do that. Still, the man was his closest friend and it hurt to watch him struggle to accept what had happened to him. If he was even trying to accept it.
It didn't help, either, that Erik still felt a healthy degree of guilt for it no matter what Charles told him.
The next morning started out badly. When he knocked on Charles's door there was no answer, and when he opened it the bed was empty. Erik didn't know why he panicked-he wouldn't have gone far-but he did, and in a moment it was somewhat justified when he found his friend on the floor near the bathroom, the simple wheelchair overturned beside him. From the direction of the tipped chair and the way Charles was lying it appeared he'd caught the edge of the coffee table and toppled out on the way back to the bed from the bathroom.
Charles was quiet, half curled on his side, and for a moment Erik was afraid he was unconscious, but when he came closer he saw the blue eyes open and staring blankly into space. His arms were wrapped around himself and he shivered a little. The fire had gone out and winter was fast approaching.
How long had he been down there?
Erik swallowed hard. Charles? The only response was that his eyes closed now, and he let out a tired breath. He shivered again, more violently this time, and Erik knelt quickly at his back and pulled him up in his arms until Charles was resting against his shoulder. Erik could see now that his lips were nearly blue and could feel that he was freezing even through the gray sweater over his flannel pajamas.
"Damnit, Charles; have you been here all night?"
He didn't answer; he didn't have to. Erik wondered why the hell he hadn't heard anything when it happened, rubbing Charles's arms to put warmth into them again and cursing under his breath. Damnit, he didn't have socks on, either. His feet were probably ice; they would be hurting by now if he could feel it.
"Why didn't you call me?" Erik questioned desperately. Charles was shivering against him, teeth chattering now.
"It was late...didn't want to wake anyone," he croaked out finally. He frowned. "I-I thought I could get back in the chair on my own. I got it...upright, but it just...tipped over again when I tried..."
"So you thought you'd just sleep on the floor? What the hell, Charles! You can't be proud about this; don't you understand that? You'll get yourself hurt, or worse!"
Too harsh. He was worried and angry and he'd come off too harshly. It had been embarrassment burning on Charles's face until now, but now he just sobbed.
"Erik, I can't do this..."
Erik let his eyes close for a moment and he held on tighter. "Yes you can. You have to."
"Why?" Charles cried.
"Why? What the hell kind of question is that...we need you. Those kids need you. The mutants out there who don't know they aren't alone need you." He hesitated. "I" need you, Charles. My life didn't have a purpose that was really worth-while until you convinced me to stay in Virginia. He didn't say that at the time he wasn't exactly gung-ho for the cause yet. He'd quickly gotten there, but in that moment in front of the CIA facility that he had decided to stay he hadn't stayed for the other mutants they might find and/or help.
He'd stayed because of Charles.
Charles was silent for a long moment. I don't know if I can be strong enough for all of them anymore.
Of course you can...but that's why I'm here. You don't have to do it alone.
Charles closed his eyes again, knowing Erik was right. He wasn't alone. That was underscored when Erik gently scooped him up and brought him to the bed. But he set him on the edge of the it instead of against his pillows, and Charles watched Erik curiously as he went to the closet and began to dig through it.
"Erik?"
He came back out with socks, a blue shirt and a pair of pants, which he dropped onto the edge of the bed beside Charles.
"Clothes. Real ones."
"I can see that."
"Put them on, Charles."
He wanted to argue, but he already knew that Erik would not take no for an answer, and what would have been the point? Grumbling a little, he sighed and pulled off the sweater and pajama top, leaving the t-shirt underneath before he pulled on the blue shirt and began working at the buttons. And apparently he wasn't moving fast enough because Erik reached out as if to help, before he seemed to remember that he couldn't help with buttons. Not small ones that required two hands, anyhow.
He stopped short, staring at his useless hand, and Charles stopped and looked up at it too. The cast had come off last week, and it did look relatively normal-minimal scarring from the surgery, and only the two fingers that had been completely shattered still looked a bit odd...slightly lumpy and not quite straight.
But the hand was still all but useless.
"Erik...?"
Erik shook his head as if to snap out of something, and shrugged as he sat down on the edge of the bed now, too. "I guess it's a good thing I'm so fond of turtlenecks," was all he said. After another moment he chuckled weakly. "Your wardrobe wouldn't work so well for me now."
Charles swallowed and reached to take the mostly numb hand in his. Erik didn't resist as he ran his fingers over the two of his friend's that had taken the worst of it. He caressed the hand in both of his, feeling the bones that were not quite in place and the scars from the reconstructive surgery. He also felt a strong surge of guilt.
Maybe he pressed in too hard. Erik sucked in a short breath through his teeth, and Charles stopped any pressure but didn't let go. "Does it still hurt?" he asked in alarm.
"Some," Erik admitted. "Closer to my wrist, where I can feel anything."
He pressed a thumb gently into the heel of Erik's hand and down over the wrist. "You feel that, then?" He nodded, and Charles pressed against the upper palm and brushed over the fingers next. "But none of that." Erik shook his head now, and Charles let out a breath. It was a long time before he said anything else.
"I am so sorry, my friend. I...I'm afraid I've been so caught up...worried over my own problems; the changes I'll have to make...I'd forgotten that you have your own adjustments to contend with. That was awful of me..."
Erik was clearly uncomfortable with the sudden attention. "Charles, it's all right...a hand is hardly anything compared to-"
"But it is. We get so used to using two; learn to rely on it just as much as walking..." He blinked back sudden tears. "God, Erik, he's marked us both. We'll never forget now." What if that was what Shaw had wanted? "He won..."
"No," Erik firmly, taking his hand back now. "He didn't. We're still here, Charles. We'll make it."
He wanted to believe that. He didn't say anything as he finished buttoning his shirt, but he wanted to believe it.
He let Erik help him pull on the pants and socks only because he had been humiliated already this morning, being found on the floor, and there wasn't much way it could possibly be worse anyway. When Charles was dressed he pulled the gray sweater back on over the blue shirt and buttoned it, and when Erik stood back from the bed and looked at him for a moment he smirked a bit.
"There. Now you look more like yourself."
Charles glanced down at himself. "I suppose I feel a bit more like myself..."
"Good." With that Erik crossed the room again and came back with the wheelchair. "Because you're coming downstairs for breakfast."
Charles just stared at him. "No," he said firmly.
"No what?"
"No, I am not going downstairs."
Erik glared at him. "You can't stay cooped up in this room forever, Charles. You have to go down there sometime."
"But-"
"Get in the damned chair, Charles!"
"I am not going downstairs in that bloody chair!"
He couldn't. If he did that it would be surrendering to this-to this life where he couldn't walk. It would be the end of the life he'd had before.
He didn't think he was ready for that.
They both stopped, because they were shouting now and it shouldn't be coming to that. They stared each other down now, until finally Erik relented and pushed the chair back out of the way. "Fine."
Charles only had a fraction of a second to relax before Erik picked him up instead.
"Erik! What are you-! Put me down!"
"You said you didn't want to go downstairs in the chair; you're not going downstairs in the chair."
"This is NOT what I meant, Erik. Put me down. NOW."
"You didn't complain when I picked you up a few minutes ago."
"This time it's against my will; there's a difference." He was still mostly over the bed, and he tried to pitch over out of Erik's grasp and it almost worked. But Erik quickly shifted his grip to keep Charles in his arms, and drew back away from the bed and toward the door.
"This is for your own good, Charles."
"Erik!"
He wanted to fight him, but falling now would be much less pleasant and he had had quite enough of falling, thank you. As Erik opened the door without touching it and carried him out into the corridor and down the stairs Charles stopped struggling. He glared menacingly up at his friend, but he stopped moving.
"You're going to pay for this," he muttered.
"I'm going to pay for a lot of things. This one I don't mind so much."
Charles fell silent as Erik brought him into the kitchen and set him carefully in one of the chairs at the table.
"Are you all right there?"
There were no arms on the chair and balancing was interesting, but after a moment he had himself steadied and nodded. Erik nodded in return and went to the cabinets, pulling things out and looking into the refrigerator.
"Any preferences?"
Charles crossed his arms atop the table and shook his head. "Not particularly."
Erik shrugged and pulled the egg carton out of the refrigerator. Behind him a pan he'd pulled from the cabinet moved onto the stove seemingly of its own accord, and the eye under it turned on. Erik brought the eggs to the stove, and while he took two plates down from another cabinet a drawer opened beside him and a metal spatula floated up and out of it and dangled there until he had cracked several of the eggs into the large pan. Once he had done that Erik snatched it out of the air with his good hand and began to scramble the cooking eggs. He didn't have to worry about the pan sliding on the eye; it remained perfectly in place, not shifting at all as he scraped at the eggs.
It was certainly something to see. "Your powers seem to make up for quite a bit..."
Erik paused with the metal salt shaker poised in the air above the pan, and glanced back at him. He glanced at the salt shaker and then back at Charles, and smirked a little. He probably didn't even realize how much he was using his abilities. It was second nature to him. "I guess they do."
That was good. It was probably making it easier for him, which made Charles feel a bit better. Erik shrugged now.
"It's the little things...things that aren't metal. Having my powers helps, but there's still enough I have to do differently." He was quiet as he finished the eggs and began to scrape them onto the plates, the pepper shaker shaking over them a bit as did it.
Maybe Erik didn't know all of how he felt, losing his legs, but he understood the basics of those feelings very well now and that was what he was trying to say.
I understand, my friend, Charles told him quietly. He paused. We are still in this together, I suppose. I know that, now.
Erik was smiling softly when he turned around to bring the plates to the table-one by one, because he could only hold one at a time, and the plates were ceramic. When he brought the second plate, his own, and sat down next to Charles they both realized he'd forgotten forks.
It wasn't a problem, of course; he simply pulled the cutlery drawer open by its metal handle again and brought the forks to them.
Charles chuckled as he plucked his fork from the air, suddenly finding this whole thing incredibly funny.
"What?" Erik asked.
He shook his head. "It's just...several months ago you were entirely content hunting Nazi criminals, tracking Shaw, and taking care of anyone in your way, and now here you are cooking breakfast for a paraplegic. Bit of a shift."
Erik just looked at him for a moment, before he finally laughed. Charles laughed with him, and it felt good.
"Charles!"
He looked up and Raven was in the doorway, blue and staring at him. She was using her human form less and less recently, he'd noticed. And right now she was grinning from ear to ear as she crossed the kitchen to bend down and hug him fiercely. "Hey...you're downstairs."
"I suppose I am." He kissed her cheek briefly, and his sister pressed her lips to his forehead.
"God, you have no idea how good it is to see you down here. I was beginning to think you'd live in that room forever."
Part of him had wanted to. "I very well might have, if not for Erik," he said quietly. "I'm far too stubborn, apparently."
Raven looked at Erik now, a hand still on her brother's shoulder. "You got him down here?"
"Dragged him. You should have been there."
She laughed once, and bent to kiss Erik's cheek before she went to make her own breakfast. "Thank you."
Then she was on the other side of the kitchen getting her own food, and Erik was left blinking in surprise. Charles smiled softly when his friend looked at him in confusion.
You have a family now, Erik. Never forget that.
