Oh man.


Chapter XI.

I daresay you know what to do

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Erik is thinking about sea urchins.

He's thinking about sea urchins because this is the closest he can come to thinking about Charles right now without having some sort of…something. Something that hurts, that feels good, that hurts.

And now he's thinking about Charles anyway.

Charles, who Erik always knew mattered, but had never realized just how much. Erik feels like a planet that has just discovered that, upon further inspection, it has been orbiting a sun this whole time.

A sun which has been abruptly swallowed by a black hole so now the planet is rocketing without direction through empty space with no gravity to hold it in place and Erik feels like his insides are frozen because why didn't he know this sooner, and why did he let Charles get taken and he could have prevented this. He knows he could have prevented this, because he could have prevented Charles from going down to talk to Marko—he could have gone with Charles to talk to Marko—and then none of this would ever have happened because Charles would still be here, safe, and not in the hands of Nyrulians.

Erik leans forward heavily to press his forehead against the window he's been standing in front of for the past half hour, closing his eyes. He is somewhere down on the sixth deck because when he tried going back up to the bridge and saw Logan and Scott he felt as if they'd somehow know, just by looking at him, and he can't really face that right now. It is quiet down here, thank god, and it's giving him some room to think.

Erik is in love with Charles Xavier.

He is in love with his best friend, his only friend, and he hadn't even known until now. He's nearly lightheaded with the implications. Everything through all these years suddenly makes so much more sense; a supernova going off and with its extra burst of light, it has illuminated a part of space that had previously been dark. Why he'd let Charles squirm his way into his life, why he'd listened to Charles dither on and on about Xenobiology every afternoon, why he'd punched Kurt Marko in the face for suggesting that Charles was anything less than perfect, why he'd wasted no time in promoting Charles to be his Deputy, why he wants Charles at his side on his bridge, at every officer meeting, on every mission.

Because, if Erik really takes it in and thinks about it, he really didn't stop being angry the day he enlisted in Starfleet. He stopped being angry the day Charles took him out to buy lunch and new shoes and spent the entire afternoon vacillating between self-deprecatingly apologetic and, more intriguingly, sharp as a whip, blue eyes keen and bright even though he was obviously still half-hungover from the previous night. Charles was curiously both equally the most confident person Erik had ever met, and yet also possessed some of the most crippling self-doubt Erik had ever seen.

Erik's not even sure how that's possible, but he finds that if he's in a galaxy where Charles Xavier is possible, then he hardly cares. Their easy friendship and companionship has been something Erik has thrived on these past few years, much like breathing air: it was always, always there and he did it unconsciously, requiring no effort because it was simple and natural and right.

And something that he'd taken for so much granted, and now Erik can't breathe because he's allowed the single most important person in his life slip through his fingers.

He is Charles' Commander, he is Charles' best friend, and he can do better than this. For Charles.

Erik will bring Charles back. Anything less is unacceptable.

He straightens, opening his eyes. Outside the window is the blank whiteness of hyperspace. They've been traveling at Maximum Burn for a couple of hours now, at least. They should be at the boundary between Earth Empire territory and Nyrulian territory soon.

As if on cue, Raven materializes beside him. Her hologram is still that of the blond human girl. "Sir."

Erik turns away, walking down the hall. "Walk with me."

Raven's projection shimmers, and then she's pacing alongside him easily, arms folded neatly behind her back. "We are several minutes away from dropping out of hyperspace, sir. We will be right on the edge."

"And are you ready."

The corners of Raven's hologram mouth curl upwards in what can only be called a smirk. "Absolutely, sir. Without a doubt."

Erik nods once. "Good."

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Charles stares up at the tentacles.

There are six of them, they tower a good twenty meters at least over their heads, and he's pretty sure that they're at least twice as thick as he is. Right now they're waving back and forth wildly, whipping through the air, but it's only a matter of time until they come back down.

He can pick out the one that had grabbed him before, though. It has large, still-sizzling burns and several large chunks of flesh missing. Charles looks down at the plasma gun in his hand. Huh. Not bad.

Wade has a glint in his eye that Charles isn't sure he likes. The bounty hunter suddenly reaches back over his shoulder to where his second sword is still sheathed across his back and pulls it out with a loud scrape of steel on leather, brandishing both of his blades, and Charles suddenly knows exactly what this fucking crazy lunatic is about to do.

"Wade—"

Wade gives one loud whoop that echoes everywhere, and then takes off running through the slime towards the tentacles.

Jesus Christ.

"I've got a very bad feeling about this." Charles says. To himself. Because Wade is sprinting at the tentacles.

Wade reaches the first one—it's impressive, actually, how fast he's able to move through the thick, clinging slime—and with another wild yell he hacks straight through it, slicing forward in a sweeping motion that crosses his blades in an x-shape. There's a spray of mud-colored blood, and then the tentacle is falling, collapsing back down lifelessly into the slime with a loud squelch.

"Yes!" Wade is crowing, twirling his blades around so fast they're flashing blurs of glinting metal. "That's one down and five to go! What now, you son of a—"

A tentacle slams into him from the side, and Wade is sent flying backwards. The tentacles had been flailing before but now they're frenzied, and a low, very-worrying rumble is coming from beneath the slime as the thing the tentacles belong to thrashes in pain.

"Wade!" Charles shouts, because the bounty hunter has momentarily disappeared from sight, sunken into the slime wherever he landed, and now Charles has no way to tell if he's been eaten or not yet.

And then there's a tentacle in his face.

"Fuck!" Charles shouts reflexively, firing the plasma gun without really aiming due to sheer panic, the kick of the weapon sending him toppling backwards into the slime. He lands on his back, slowly starting to sink down into the mucus, with the tentacle looming over him so he fires again and again and again, gritting his teeth and blasting the tentacle into chunks that rain down around him.

"I am Deadpooooool!" someone shrieks at a rather worrisome pitch, and Charles struggles back up out of the slime to his feet just in time to see Wade, covered completely in slime now too, as he launches himself at another tentacle, swords whirling.

"Behind you, you bloody idiot!" Charles screams, but it's too late.

Another tentacle smashes down on Wade, wrapping around him in a matter of seconds and lifting him up into the air. Wade is kicking and struggling and trying valiantly to slice into the tentacle but he's at the wrong angle and his swords are only barely nicking it in the side—scratches where he needs carvings.

"Jesus," Charles mutters, positioning himself as best as he can in the slime, spreading his feet out wide and lifting the plasma gun to aim at the base of the tentacle that's holding Wade captive. It's still moving all over the place, no doubt shaking the life out of the bounty hunter, and it's making getting a good lock on it nearly impossible.

Charles takes a deep breath, and as he begins to release the air slowly, fires.

The butt of the gun hits him square in the chin, snapping his head back painfully far, and he nearly falls over before he catches his balance, straightening just in time to see Wade hit the slime, the tentacle wrapped around him blown clear in half.

"Yes!" Charles shouts exultantly, pumping a fist into the air, but that quickly turns into a scream as his feet are pulled right out from underneath him. He's given a fierce shake that makes his leg give a painful wrench, and the plasma gun goes flying out of his grip.

"Whoa, Charles, dude!" Wade shouts from where he's struggling back up to his feet.

"Do something!" Charles shrieks, because there is a fucking tentacle wrapped around one of his legs and he's dangling upside-down in midair high over the slime.

"I'm on it!" Wade says, but then he's attacked by one of the two other tentacles still remaining and he turns to fight that one off instead.

Normally Charles wouldn't blame him, but hello? He is dangling up here, and oh god, there's something else coming out of the slime in the center of the lake where all the tentacles are originating from. He can only stare downwards in horror as a wide, gaping mouth appears below, opening wide and revealing hundreds of sharp, jagged teeth.

He is going to die right here and now, Charles realizes with sudden, startling clarity. He is going to be dropped into that thing's open, gaping mouth and be ground down into tiny particles by about five hundred teeth at once. He stares at the jaws, and swallows.

He hopes it only hurts for a second.

He wishes he could've said goodbye to Erik.

Oh god, Erik.

Charles can't help it; a small, jagged sob rips its way out of his chest.

"DEADPOOOOOOL!" Wade is there and he slams his blades into the base of the tentacle holding Charles up, and then Charles is falling.

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Logan brings the ship back down out of hyperspace, the blackness of regular space a sight for sore eyes after all that bright white. If they'd stayed at MB for one more goddamn minute, he reckons he'd have to kill something just to watch it bleed and get an eyeful of color, Jesus Christ.

"Fuck," Scott announces, because in his other life his name would be Captain Fucking Obvious, "we're here."

Come to think of it, Logan could still just kill him and be done with it anyway. Something to consider.

"No shit," Logan says instead, "Sherlock."

Before Scott can retaliate, the elevator door hisses open and the Commander steps back onto the bridge.

Logan surveys him. Erik looks like he's got himself back under fucking control for the most part, thank god, because if this rescue attempt wasn't insane enough already, going in without Erik at his full capacity would have been goddamn suicide. Surprise, motherfucker, you're in love with your Deputy.

"Gentlemen." Erik says evenly as he steps over to his chair. Raven is pacing along beside him, her hologram projection moving fluidly.

"We're right on the edge of the line, sir," Logan reports, pulling up a star map. Sure enough, the tiny blue dot indicating the Heartsteel hovers on the edge of a thick, red line. This is where the Earth Empire ends and the Nyrulian Federation begins.

"Well done." Erik sinks down. Now that he's closer, Logan can see the tightness around the War-Prince's eyes and despite the situation, it takes all of Logan's self-preserving skills not to smirk. Scott owes him 5000 goddamn credits. "Raven, give us a trail to follow."

"Yes sir. Computing." There's a moment's pause, and then a yellow trail suddenly blazes out, zigzagging through space on the three-dimensional map. "Complete, full data read synchronized. The Nyrulian ship dropped out of hyperspace two point three hours ago to enter Nyrulian territory. They have continued at regular speeds since."

"Excellent." Erik takes a breath. It's good to see him acting like a fucking human for once. "Initiate Mystique Mode. I daresay you know what to do."

Raven smiles, and as Logan watches, her human appears shifts and then ripples, morphing into an alien with blue, scaly skin, red hair, and piercing yellow eyes. A Keflar. "Understood, sir."

And then nothing happens.

"Sir," Scott says after a moment of silence, "what the fuck is going on?" He's staring down at the readings on his screen. Logan can't read that shit from where he's sitting, but the data is going fucking nuts, scrolling down so fast that even Scott probably can't read that shit either. What the fuck.

Erik actually gives a faint smirk. It makes him look like a goddamn shark. "Raven, show the boys your mutation."

"Here is our new look, gentlemen." Raven says, and then a hologram flickers into view on the main screen.

"That's us." Scott says.

"Yes, Legionnaire Summers."

"Right now."

"Yes, Legionnaire Summers."

"We look like that."

"Yes, Legionnaire Summers."

"Fuck," Scott says, "groovy."

"Scott," Logan says, even as he stares at the image, "shut the fuck up."

On the screen is a Nyrulian ship. Down to the very last detail, the Heartsteel now resembles the same ship that Charles disappeared with. Logan squints. Is that fucking real? Or is a hologram? Damn, he can't even tell. Keflar technology really at its best. Maybe Charles hadn't been as full of shit as he'd originally thought and actually really had taken a liking to Erik.

"That," he says slowly, "is pretty fucking impressive, dollface."

"Much obliged, Legionnaire Howlett."

The entire goddamn galaxy can probably hear Erik's eye roll.

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"Aaaahhhh!" Charles falls screaming down towards the mouth and the teeth and his mind is blank with terror because oh god this is it—

Wade flips one of his swords around, gripping the blade, and then hurls it like a javelin straight at Charles' chest. The hilt hits him dead on with enough brute force to knock the wind out of his chest, choking off his scream and also somehow knocking him backwards in midair, and Charles plummets down into the slime again instead of into the gaping jaws.

"Woohoo!" Wade shouts, pumping a fist into the air as he jumps up and down. "Bullseye, motherfucker, you're not eating any Princes today! What what! I am Deadpool, son!"

Charles is completely winded, but he somehow manages to drag himself mindlessly away from the monster in the slime, pulling himself back towards the edge of the lake. He's not even sure what Wade is up to behind him, but from the sounds of it, he's cutting off the single remaining tentacle that the monster still possesses. Charles doesn't look back, though, and doesn't stop moving until he reaches the side of the lake and pulls himself up out of the slime and onto dry floor, where he promptly collapses into a heap.

He almost just got eaten.

He's trembling, he realizes distantly, the shock of the matter catching up with him. He wants nothing more than to get off this fucking ship and go home. This is not what he signed up for, and fucking Cain—just—he can't even—

"Yo, dude, we made it to the other side!" Wade plops down beside him, grinning at him as he does his best to wipe most of the slime off of his swords. "Man, you were fucking awesome with that plasma gun, that shit was insane."

"Wade," Charles says very slowly and deliberately, "you are insane."

Wade laughs. "Nah, bro, I'm Deadpool."

"Yes," Charles says, "so I've heard."

That makes Wade laugh even harder, Jesus Christ.

Charles takes a deep breath. He's still alive. He can do this. He's trapped on an enemy ship with someone who may or may not be a total lunatic, but he can do this. He pushes himself up into a sitting position, taking stock. Both of them are absolutely covered in slime, but there's nothing to be done for it. He pushes a hand back through his hair anyway, getting a few large globules out.

"How far are we from where they're keeping your ship?" Charles asks after a moment and after Wade's stopped laughing for the most part.

"Dude, I told you this is a shortcut—"

"That we're never taking again."

"Man, that little critter doesn't even have arms anymore. He's harmless."

Charles begs to differ. He'd looked that thing right in the mouth, thanks. Whatever the hell that thing was, little or harmless wasn't it. "Are we close?"

"We are basically right next door." Wade grins winningly.

"Brilliant." Charles says flatly. He's finding it a little hard to buy into Wade's enthusiasm at the moment.

"C'mon!" Wade hops up to his feet and then pulls Charles up after him. "We're just one short crawl away!"

Charles thinks that at this point he'll have to actually see it to believe it, but allows Wade to lead him on anyway. Nowhere else to really go at this point. He's fully committed to this madness. He hisses a little through his teeth as his weight settles onto the leg that the monster had grabbed.

"You alright, man?" Wade's looking back at him over his shoulder.

"I'll be fine." Charles says, stepping forward again gingerly. "It's nothing I can't handle."

"Solid, bro." Wade says, and then kneels to pull a grate off the wall. "Right up through here!"

"Lead the way." Charles replies.

"Dude, wait until you see her," Wade says excitedly as they crawl up through the ventilation shaft, "my ship, man, she's a real beaut."

"I'm sure she is." Charles replies, focusing more on not sliding back down the way they came. This fucking slime is really making things difficult.

"Alright," Wade says, whispering now, as they reach a thin grate that has light leaking through, "luckily we'll be in this like corner, or whatever, so we should be seen as long as we keep it real stealthy, okay?"

"You've got it." Charles says dryly.

"Cool, man." Wade flashes him a thumbs up, and then carefully lifts the grate off of its already loosened hinges, climbing out into the light.

Charles clambers out carefully after him, blinking. True to Wade's word, they're standing in a corner surrounded by more cargo containers, relatively sheltered from view, thank god. The room itself is enormous; a huge hanger that contains multiple ships, most of which appear to be the standard Nyrulian Bug Fighters—named for their beetle-like appearance—but one ship stands starkly out from all the rest.

"Isn't she something?" Wade whispers, practically radiating his pride. "Want to know her name? I named her after my favorite color."

"Oh?" Charles asks absently. He's still staring at the ship. He bets it's something to do with red, because Wade sure wears a whole damn lot of it.

"Yep," Wade says with a nod, "her name is Bright Morning Sun Rising Over the Tall Craggy Mountains While the Silvery Mist Curls Gently Through the Trees on a Light Breeze that Wafts the Smell of the Cooling Pie Sitting on the Windowsill Throughout the Entire Log Cabin."

Charles takes a moment to soak that up. It's a lot to take in.

Wade shrugs. "Or I just call her Marvin for short."

"Oh," Charles says, "of course you do."