Charles wakes up in his own bed, blanket warm around him, sunlight in his face and birds chirping outside, and for one second he can't fathom why he feels sick with apprehension.

Then, it all comes rushing back and he sits up with a start, heart racing as his eyes dart around the room.

Erik isn't there. He is alone.

He has to force himself to take deep, slow breaths instead of giving in to the feeling of suffocation that hits him.

Breathe in.

The door's closed. It's quiet outside. No immediate threat.

Breathe out.

His head is still slightly fuzzy, the pain killers not having quite worn off yet it seems.

The pills...Erik holding him down...the feeling of-

Breathe in. Breathe out. Breathe in.

He can't panic. He has to think. Think.

His wrist is in what looks like a makeshift cast, some tape and a ruler, and it's aching dully.

He tried to push Erik away, but couldn't- he told him no but Erik didn't even listen-

The next breath he drags in is more of a sob.

Just hours ago, Charles wouldn't have thought he could be any more afraid than he was when he thought his fiance was going to kill him. Now he knows better. New dimensions of horror are opening up before his eyes.

He struggles out of the sheets, suddenly hectic.

He has to get out of here.

His brain is supplying that he isn't wearing his clothes anymore, but a clean shirt instead- Erik- He has to push the thought of it down with force, because the mere notion of having been unconscious next to Erik leaves him shuddering, stomach cramping up, and he has to keep his wits, has to focus. He blindly pulls a pair of pants out the closet, somehow getting them on despite the cast.

Then he hurries over to the door, heart in his throat as he listens for sounds in the hallway. Nothing but quiet. He pushes the door open, breath held, and silently slips outside when there is no one to be seen.

The whole apartment seems deserted, quiet, and Charles rushes to the door, nearly opening it before fear stills his hand.

Even if Erik has gone somewhere...he would probably have left Logan, or worse Victor, behind. Charles' hand falls, trembling. No, he can't risk walking out there.

He spins around, hurriedly beginning to look for his phone, any phone, in any place he can think of. He needs to call Moira. She doesn't know where they live, probably will just stay at her place until Charles comes by...but what if she doesn't? What if the kids tell her the address? No. No, he can't let them come back here. He has to go get them and then go...where? His apartment is gone, the school is out...Raven? No, he can't drag her into this either.

Scott. Yes.

Finding no phone, he rushes into the study, running back out with his laptop. This will do. He can email Scott and-

As soon as he opens up the laptop, he hears the front door. Charles jumps, panicking and shoving his laptop under the couch seconds before Erik walks into the room. Charles struggles to his feet, heart racing as his eyes find Erik -and the man walking in behind him.