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AN: These will get somewhat darker as the series progresses, this one isn't that much, but the next one has some darker themes and uncomfortable conversations.
His phone rings, while he's asleep. Rolling over, he stuffs his face into the pillow. The phone keeps ringing. Then it stops. Then it starts again. He pulls the phone to his hand so hard it would probably leave a bruise on his palm, "what?"
"Um, hi. Sorry if you were asleep." A calm, relatively deep voice, with a definite southern drawl.
"I was. Who is this?"
"Dr. Harold Henderson."
Erik frowned. He hadn't seen Mystique in two days, though that wasn't anything unusual.
"A man was brought into my ER, collapsed lung, few other injuries, car crash during this storm we're having. This number was listed as his emergency contact, as well as the one he gave for both his next of kin."
"Name?"
"Charles Xavier."
Erik frowned, "why isn't he calling me himself?"
"He just got here a few minutes ago, they're still stabilizing him. Usually we'd wait a bit longer to make calls, but..." his voice got a lot quieter, "I"m an empath, I can tell he's a mutant. I just need to know if there are any tests that will show up on. I can keep it quiet, but the deep south isn't exactly the most open minded of places, and I need to know..."
"He's a telepath. Anything with brain activity would be abnormal, but everything else besides genetics should be fine."
"He doesn't have any head injuries, so that shouldn't be a problem. Will you be coming down?"
"I...can't, not right away." He was surprised how frustrated he was by that, but he really couldn't, they had an operation scheduled for tomorrow they'd been putting together for weeks, "but if he's there more than two days, I can."
"He probably will be, his injuries are fairly severe. Mostly he'll need to be on oxygen for at least that long."
"Then I will be there, as soon as I can. Probably by night Friday."
The plane ride was uneventful, As they got closer to their destination, he could start to feel Charles in his mind. By the time he landed, Charles didn't have to strain to touch him, though they were still too far for conversation. The drive south was boring, until, finally, "Erik."
Charles felt so warm, there was no doubt that the other man was very glad he was coming, though he also felt exceedingly tired, "Charles. Why are you in Alabama?"
"I had to speak with someone, face to face."
"Did you manage that before you decided to make closer friends with a tree?"
"Yes. I was heading back to the airport."
Just talking with Charles was making him sleepy, he frowned, "are you trying to make me join you in the hospital?"
"No, I'm sorry. They gave me a lot of pain medication."
No wonder Charles's responses had been so formal, he was trying not to be completely loopy.
"Go to sleep. I'll be there in an hour or so."
A wave of warm affection came back to him, and then the contact faded to just a small, warm corner of his mind, as Charles succumbed to sleep.
Walking into the hospital room, he found Charles completely insensate, face buried in the pillow, an IV going into the back of his hand. Erik checked the label–morphine. This would be interesting.
Laying a hand on Charles's back, he smiled, at the immediate strength of the connection–though the pull was so insistent, he nearly fell asleep right there, at Charles's side. The other man stirred, though, as Erik pulled at him, and finally he opened sleepy blue eyes, "mmm, Erik?"
"Here."
A somewhat loopy smile, and Charles reached out, latching onto a fistful of his shirt, "glad you're here."
Erik eased onto the edge of the bed, pulling a piece of fuzz out of Charles's hair, "you look like hell."
"Don't feel like it. Feel like bubbles."
Erik stared at the other man. Charles patted his stomach, twice, and then seemed to fall back to sleep entirely. Erik couldn't help but be amused.
Charles on morphine is amusing, he doesn't make much sense, and his earnestness is very endearing. But he's also not got much in the way of control, and when he's dozing, it's all Dr. Henderson can do to keep the other people in the hospital awake.
Erik is not going to tell his friend that he's endangering other people, especially because he's got two broken ribs, and without the pain medication, that will hurt like hell. And while it's technically probably sooner than would normally be a good idea, Henderson discharges Charles, and Erik takes him to a motel, where they both sleep for nearly a full day, until Charles wakes up in pain, and Erik gives him the oral meds Henderson prescribed, and they head out as soon as they take effect.
"Do you like bananas?"
Erik blinked, and glanced at his friend, as they drove. Charles still looked sleepy, in the front passenger seat of Erik's rental car, watching Erik drive.
"They're...fine."
"Strawberries are better."
"I agree."
Charles nods, yawning, wincing as he does so, and pressing a hand to his side, "dammit."
"This is why we don't crash into trees, Charles."
"Oh, shut it."
Erik grinned.
Charles is a complete lightweight when it comes to narcotics. He's not for alcohol, Erik knows that for sure, but opiates are apparently a different matter, as Charles is on codeine, and his train of thought still very closely resembles some sort of carnival ride with an above average number of twists and turns.
Driving all the way back up to New England with him has been quite an experience, and Erik is getting a bit sick of it, to tell the truth. There's no way it would be safe for Charles to ride in a plane, even on a much lower dose, he still makes Erik feel sleepy, and traveling would be way too painful without the pain meds. So they keep driving, and Erik doesn't wake Charles up when he falls asleep.
Delivering Charles to the mansion, he winds up just standing outside and knocking on the door, their professor sound asleep in his car. A woman with white hair opens the door, and stares at him, "yes?"
He knows Charles called to say he was hurt, but on his way back, and that everything was fine, but other than that, he hasn't been to communicative to his students.
She looks upset, and haggard, and seems impatient.
"I think I have something of yours."
She frowns, raising an eyebrow. He jerks his thumb at the car, "your Professor."
She walks past him, to the car, and leans down to look in the window. Charles is fast asleep against the window. She turns around, "you drove him here?"
"From Alabama."
Carrying his sleeping friend into the mansion, he feels a lot less annoyed. Now that he isn't stuck with him anymore, the past week seems a lot more amusing. They've been seeing an awful lot of each other, and maybe they're just not built for that. At least, Erik isn't.
Though, he's still just the tiniest bit remorseful, as he leaves his closest friend to the care of a crowd of strangers, even if they are Charles's students and friends.