When he appeared in front of the cabin, blades ready, he had a fraction of a second to be surprised by his opponent, then the sharp weapons flew at the creature hovering over Charles Xavier. He had seen Hayes to one side, face chalky white, eyes wide, but she appeared unharmed. As did the professor, though he looked close to a collapse.
With a modicum of surprise Azazel witnessed the blades bite into the flesh of the creature, pass through, and draw no blood. There had been hardly any resistance, one that would come from hitting muscle and bone. It was like slicing through jelly.
The creature, for all its impressive bulk, swung around with a howl and Azazel blocked a swipe that jarred his shoulder.
It was powerful!
He narrowed his eyes, tail whipping behind him, attacking once more. He was an expert swordsman and had yet to meet anyone who could best him – aside from a metalbending mutant who could pluck the blades from his hands. But even without his weapons Azazel was a formidable warrior and hand-to-hand combat against a human was no challenge.
Again the blades struck home, but they didn't do any damage.
The creature snarled and lunged at him.
Azazel popped out of existence in a whisper of red smoke and the smell of brimstone, reappearing above the thing in the trees. It was lumbering below him, clearly looking for its target, but not aware of him above. He twirled the blades to face forward, readying to ram them into the massive neck below him.
::Azazel, wait::
The voice was weak, tremulous, and he wouldn't have recognized it as Xavier's if not for the mind-touch. He narrowed his eyes at the man leaning haphazardly against a tree not far away from his elevated position. The telepath was in no condition to assess the situation.
::It's not real:: Xavier added, the mind-voice sounding labored. ::Projection::
That had the red-skinned teleporter prick his ears. A projection? A very solid and real projection, if he was any judge.
::It's not real. The mutant… whoever he is… he brings it to life::
So all he had to do was take out the mutant.
::No! Wait! Please don't…::
Azazel did stop, but only to assess the situation once more.
x x x x x x x x
Charles was at the end of his rope, but he knew he was needed. Erik needed him. He knew the creature wasn't their enemy, that it was a defense mechanism, and that their real opponent was somewhere inside the derelict cabin.
As was Erik.
He shuddered, the anchor hurting so badly, all he wanted was to throw up, collapse, never get up again…
::Erik?:: he tried, but his fractured mind was unable to penetrate the wall between them.
Unconscious, part of him murmured. Erik was unconscious. That was why he couldn't touch him by mind.
The creature snuffled, having lost Azazel when the teleporter had disappeared, and he looked into its inhuman eyes.
Not real. He felt nothing from it.
::I know you're in there:: he projected at the mutant inside the cabin.
He felt the presence, somehow blurred and unfocused. Shielded, maybe? By the projection?
::Please… we never meant any harm. We'll leave you alone if that is what you want. Just let us get Erik…::
The creature bellowed, shuffling closer to the cabin, the spines on its back bristling.
Charles felt tears brim in his eyes.
::Please…::
Someone touched his arm and it was like a bucket of cold water to feel another psychically talented mind so close. Hayes was only a low-level empath, but at the moment she was a lot stronger than he was. And a lot more coherent.
"Professor… It's no use. Let Azazel get Erik out. We can't fight this."
It spoke of his declining state that he hadn't considered that an option. Charles held on to Hayes like she was his lifeline.
::Find Erik:: he told the teleporter high above in the trees.
Azazel response was his disappearance.
The monster screamed, whirling around and moving toward the cabin at a speed that was not natural. It also shouldn't be possible for the bulk of the creature to pass the door like it did, without ripping it off its hinges or bringing down the whole cabin.
x x x x x x x x
He appeared in the cabin in near-silence, swords ready. Everything around him was old, rotten, falling apart. The roof was leaky and dripped water onto the fungus-covered floor. Through the cracks in the walls he saw sketchy forest. It was dark and silent.
Except for the raspy breathing and a soft moan.
Azazel's eyes narrowed and found the source of the noise. Erik Lensherr. The human mutant was in a terrible shape, covered in his own blood, seriously injured, and hanging on to consciousness with a strength that surpassed what Azazel had thought him capable off. Then again, he had underestimated this man once before and nearly paid for it. He would never do it again.
The gray eyes widened a little as the red-skinned mutant stepped closer. Bloodless lips moved, whispering his name.
Azazel grinned. "Rescue squad."
The creature screamed and suddenly filled the doorway, pushing in. It shouldn't physically be possible to get through without tearing down the whole cabin, but it was oozing in. There was no better word for it.
Azazel knew it was no use fighting this thing, whatever it was, at least not with swords. He might have tried to teleport it to great height to let it drop above the ground, a body of water, a volcano… but right now he had a different order.
He unceremoniously lifted the semi-conscious mutant into his arms, drawing a cry of pain, then jumped. Just before he disappeared he thought he saw a girl hiding in the corner, wide eyes on him, then he was outside.
x x x x x x x x
Azazel reappeared with the now unconscious Erik in his arms and Charles nearly threw up for real now. For a brief second he saw terrible wounds, blood and shredded clothes, then he was grabbed and the sensation of the teleport washed over his already stressed-out mind.
x x x x x x x x
Erik was unconscious, a dead weight in his arms when he reappeared, and the moment Xavier laid eyes on his partner, the telepath seemed to break down like a puppet without strings. Hayes gave a cry of alarm, trying to catch his fall, but she was too slow.
The monster wasn't.
It was there. Impossibly close and looming, a stench rolling off it that had even Azazel gag.
How? How could it have reappeared so quickly? It had just pushed-oozed into the cabin!
Hayes grabbed one of Charles' wrists, curling her free hand around Azazel's tail.
"GO!" she screamed, terror in her eyes.
And he went.
x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x
The mansion's medical wing was equipped to deal with all kinds of mutant-power-related accidents and injuries. When Azazel appeared, carrying a bloody Erik, Hayes holding on to his tail and keeping a firm hold on Charles, Hank nearly fell off his chair in shock.
"Holy…!" he exclaimed.
Azazel placed his precious cargo onto the nearest bed, the blood immediately soaking through the white linen. The blood on his black coat glistened wetly.
"What the hell happened?" Hank blurted.
"Big ugly monster with claws," Hayes stammered. "It got Erik and Charles was caught in the backlash."
Hank glanced at the unconscious telepath, lips curling in an unhappy growl. Then he moved on to his more serious patient. Hayes sat on the ground, next to Charles, still holding his wrist.
"This is bad," Hank only said.
Azazel knew that was an understatement.
"I can't handle this on my own," the blue-furred mutant went on, carefully checking the vicious wounds. "Where's Reaper?"
"Stuck at the airport," Hayes answered automatically.
Azazel cocked one eyebrow. "Fetch?" he joked.
"If you wouldn't mind."
"Be right back." And he was gone.
Only to reappear with Reaper a few minutes later.
Hank didn't need to tell the young woman much. She took in the scene, her black eyes first flaring yellow, then turning a bluish-black.
"Hayes, call Dr. Reyes!" Hank barked, snarling at what was revealed under the soiled bandages.
Hayes swallowed reflexively and nearly threw up. She was glad to flee the room and call for back-up.
Azazel placed their unconscious telepath onto another bed and then stood back, simply watching. He didn't mind the gore and blood. He had seen things and done worse himself. Something else was on his mind: the creature. He hadn't been able to get a good whack at it and it had been like fighting a gooey mass.
And Xavier had called it a projection.
By the mutant.
He curled his upper lip. He could have gone into the cabin and found the one doing this, and taken him out.
He hadn't.
Because Xavier had asked him to.
Azazel curled his lip again.
::Thank you:: a faint voice said in his head.
Azazel narrowed his eyes and looked over at the bed where Charles Xavier lay. His eyes were barely open, his breathing was shallow, his skin the color of washed out linen.
::Thank you for not killing the other::
He snorted.
The telepath didn't say anything else, just looked at where Reaper and Hank were giving Erik's wounds a first aid treatment while the monitors displayed how bad it was in numbers and colorful images.
Azazel waited. He knew that there would be one last task for him. And even then he would keep an eye on proceedings.
x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x
Dr. Cecilia Reyes was the person Hank turned to when the school needed medical help that he couldn't provide. In the case of Erik he had desperately needed help. His own emergency treatment of the terrible wounds hadn't been enough and none of the students or teachers were healers.
Reyes was a mutant herself. Charles and Erik had met her throughout their first recruitment run four years ago. While she had declined to help them fight, she had offered to help in his capacity of a trauma surgeon. That was why he had called her.
"His injuries are extensive," she told the assembled 'senior' mutants of the school. "His shoulder was a mess. He has a deep stab wound that fractured his clavicle but luckily missed the bigger blood vessels. His humorous is fine, but the shoulder blade suffered bone chipping. I removed all bone fragments from the tissue. Muscles and tendons were torn off or torn apart. That needs healing. The slices to his stomach were more serious. A lot of musculature was torn apart and he lost the most blood there. His organs are fine, but the trauma is too extensive to be taken lightly. It will take a while to heal properly and for now I want to keep him under. You said some kind of mutant monster did this?"
Azazel shrugged. He was leaning against the wall, looking mostly disinterested in everything, but the keen look in his eyes betrayed the indifference.
"Xavier said it's not real, that it was a projection," he rumbled.
Hayes nodded her agreement. "He insisted that it wasn't there at all, but that thing was very real. I could smell it. Awful. The claws alone looked like knives!"
Reyes frowned. "Well, those injuries are very real as well. Erik's in a superb physical condition, which accounts for his survival, but even he is only human. He won't lose the use of his shoulder, but physical therapy will take a while to restore him. Now I want to take a look at Charles."
x x x x x x x x
Examining the exhausted telepath took less time and Reyes gave the pale man a smile.
"Get some rest, Charles."
"I'm trying," he murmured.
She brushed a caring hand over the floppy, wavy hair. It hung almost limply into his eyes and he was at the end of his emotional as well as physical rope. But he was also tenacious, something she hadn't seen the first time she had met Charles Xavier and Erik Lensherr.
Cecilia Reyes was the daughter of Puerto Rican immigrants and had been born and raised in New York. She had gone through med school and become a superb trauma surgeon, despite whatever opposition she had met. That she was a mutant had neither helped nor obstructed her chosen field of work. She could create force fields; psio-plasmic biofields, Xavier had called it. She didn't care. She had never wanted to use her abilities as a weapon. They kept her from physical harm and appeared almost unbidden, instinctual, when she was in danger. It was how she had survived a car crash, had walked away without a scratch.
When Charles and Erik had found her one night in the emergency room, just after her shift, she had declined their offer. At the time she had been surprised to find more people with so-called gifts, though in New York you ran across some physical mutations now and then. Cecilia would treat those people pro bono, but still they came to her only reluctantly.
Thinking back she had been convinced at the time that those two had shared something already. She had been surprised that they had been at the beginning of their relationship. It had been so intense back then.
When she had met them the next time, two years later, the intensity had grown.
"Erik needs this, Charles. I know you can feel the separation and it hurts, but you're stronger than this. As hard as it sounds, you've lived without him all your life."
"He's my anchor, Ceci."
She nodded. Charles had told her in a private conversation about the existence of this anchor. Cecilia was very interested in learning about telepathy. Charles had told her about this counterbalancing effect of another mind, about needing the calmness when he overdid it, and about Cerebro. Both the machine and the battle against Shaw had pushed him into anchoring himself in Erik.
Who didn't mind.
That had been the biggest surprise.
"I know that," she said calmly. "And I know you once said it was a dangerous connection for the two of you. That you might one day regret it."
He closed his eyes, fighting the pain she knew he had to feel. "I need him. He and I… we fit, Ceci. We always did. Right from the start. It's hard to explain and was hard to accept, but he is a part of me. I can't regret needing him like this. I never regretted it…"
The surgeon sighed. "Oh, Charles…"
"I can't be that strong," he added, sounding lost. "Not anymore."
"You can. You have to be. You have to work through this and come back. There is a whole school of young mutants who are worried about you."
The blue eyes were too bright for her liking, red-rimmed and filled with repressed tears. This was eating at him and she had no prescription to help.
The telepath looked at his hands, shaking ever so slightly. "I love him, Ceci."
"I know. And you have to fight."
"I'm trying."
"Charles, get yourself together!" she snapped, startling him. "The school needs you. And Erik needs you strong and healthy when he wakes up!"
It jarred him out of his misery for a moment, clearing his eyes. He blinked. Cecilia smiled.
"He's your anchor. He will be back, Charles. He will be there again." She touched his forehead, stroking over the lines of pain. "Let him heal." Her dark eyes met his blue ones. "Now get some rest. In your own bed, okay?"
He nodded.
Not that she believed him in that regard. The bond between the two men was too strong to keep Xavier away from Erik. She smiled slightly at that thought, then affectionately squeezed one shoulder as she left.
"Sleep," she reminded him. "I'll be here until Erik is safely on his way to a full recovery."
"Thank you, Ceci."
She smiled at the sincere words. "You are very welcome."
tbc...