Charles scrambles to his feet, heart beating in his throat the second he hears the name.

No-

Scott. He completely forgot, and now he's here, and Erik will-

Instantly panicking, he rushes down the stairs.

And all but runs into Victor Creed standing in the hallway.

Charles recoils, cold fear rushing through him at the sight. Victor turns to look at him, one eyebrow raised with a look of derision. The left side of his face is discolored, blue and purple, his lip split, like someone punched him in the face more than once.

Victor's eyes turn to slits the longer he looks at Charles, face twitching. Charles stares back, breathless, frozen, back pressed against the staircase. Victor smirks at the look of anxiety on his face, opening his mouth as though to say something, but in that moment Erik steps out of the living room, walking up to them and taking Charles by the arm, pulling him back slightly.

"What did you say?" he asks, voice sharp, and Victor turns and repeats his words from earlier.

"Copper's here. Jimmy's stalling him but he's pretty insistent. Says he'll get a warrant if you don't talk to him."

Erik's face darkens. "Bring him up then. Let's show him we have nothing to hide."

Victor turns, wordlessly leaving the apartment. Erik's eyes fall on Charles who is still standing with his back to the stairs, ashen and sweaty.

"You should wait with the kids. This won't be long. The cops know they have nothing against me, but they like to try to rile us up periodically." He sounds much too calm, like this has happened a hundred times before. This time though, it's not just some random police officer.

He has to tell Erik, as terrifying a prospect as it is. The man will find out anyway in just a bit and Charles doesn't want to be in the kid's room when things go down.

"I know him." Charles forces the words out. "He's here to see me."

Erik's eyes widen imperceptibly, fingers twitching around Charles' arm.

"I didn't call him," Charles adds hastily, stumbling over the words, "I just- he's my friend. I- I asked him about Shaw, because I was worried...and-"

"And he told you about me." Erik nods in understanding, frowning as he puts the pieces together. "Alright," he says after a moment, determination setting over his face. The sight fills Charles with dread.

"Let me send him away," he says without thinking. Fearing for Scott on top of everything else is proving too much for his brain to handle. Erik frowns and Charles flounders, "I just mean...he's worried. He won't go as long as he thinks I'm in danger."

Erik looks down at him for a long moment, too still, face unreadable, and Charles thinks he might have a heart attack, more so when the man suddenly leans in, cupping Charles' chin in his hand.

"You're not in danger," he says lowly, voice velvet and eyes liquid steel.

Charles forces himself not to move, hyperaware of the staircase already digging into his back.

He swallows. "I know."

The lie must sound pathetic, considering what he yelled at Erik not an hour ago and how he looks now, red-eyed and shaking.

And yet, by some miracle, Erik nods.

"Alright. You open the door."

With that, he lets go, thank god, and backs up, just in time for the knock on the door.

Charles walks over and opens the door before Erik can change his mind.

Then, Scott is standing in front of him, flanked by Victor and Logan, and Charles has to pull himself together with all he has so he won't break down again.

As with Raven, Scott's eyes immediately flicker from his head wound to his cast, widening in understanding, and then narrowing in anger.

"I'm here to take you home," he says without preamble, his tone different from how he would usually speak to Charles, which is likely to support his tough cop act in front of the mobsters.

His eyes betray it all though, his worry, his regret. He thinks this is his fault for not watching out for Charles.

It's almost physically painful to be forced to ignore Scott's distress and keep up his own act. Especially when safety and comfort is so, so close, and yet so very far. He wants nothing but to beg Scott to take him away, but he thinks of Raven and the kids and straightens his shoulders.

"What are you talking about? I live here."

Scott's face falls, hands clenching to fists by his sides, dangerously close to his concealed sidearm. "He found out, didn't he? He hurt you? Threatened you?"

The last two questions sound more like angry statements, like it's obvious. It probably is.

Scott is looking over Charles' shoulder, into the apartment, side-glances at Victor and Logan in the hall. He looks like he is about to shoot someone.

"No, of course not," Charles says quickly, trying not to think of the gun, of how dangerous this could become if he doesn't manage to calm his friend. "Everything is fine, you don't have to worry. I talked to Erik, we- he explained everything and we're fine."

Scott looks at him like he has lost his mind. "Explained? Explained what, Charles? You can't possibly still refuse to believe that he is a dangerous criminal, a killer most likely! But you don't, do you?! He's making you-"

Charles falters, false bravado beginning to crumble under Scott's insistence.

It's like Erik can read his thoughts, or maybe he reads the defeat of out the set of his shoulders, because instantly, there is a hand at the small of his back. Charles barely suppresses a flinch.

"Good day, Detective," Erik says smoothly, voice professional, almost amiable. "Wouldn't you like to come in, continue this conversation in the living room?"

It sounds like an innocent invitation, and maybe Erik really just wants to show he has nothing to hide, but Charles immediately tenses even more. No way is Scott coming in here, where there are no witnesses.

Scott doesn't move, merely looks at Erik with an expression of dark anger and disgust. His fists tighten when Erik rests an easy hand on Charles' shoulder, eyes flashing.

"No, actually," he bites out, "I want Charles to come out."

Charles shakes his head, interrupting for fear of what Erik's answer might be. "I can't right now, Scott. We're expecting guests."

"I can imagine what kind," Scott scowls, "Charles, listen to me. You don't have to be scared to go with me right now."

"I'm not scared,"´Charles says, one last time, resolute, too harsh in his desperation, "I don't need you to baby sit me, okay? I can take care of myself and I'm telling you there is nothing wrong."

It's not harsh enough.

"Charles-"

"Really, Scott?" Chalres snaps, flashing anger, "Stop it already, I'm tired of your paranoia! Nothing's wrong here. I'll see you when you've come to your senses."

He slams the door.