The first time Erik truly woke was only for a few minutes. Charles stood back, pale and reflecting how badly he had slept in the past week. There were dark patches under his eyes and his hair was tousled. A light shadow of a beard stood out starkly against the chalky skin.

Erik's eyes cracked open, light gray and clouded. Dr. Reyes was talking to him, calmly, professionally, telling him he was fine, to breathe normally, that he was home.

Charles noticed a light tremor running through the metal tray at his side.

::Erik, you're fine:: he sent, ignoring the sharp pain of the severed line as it came in the way of their contact.

But he had reached his lover. The tray calmed down.

Cecilia gave him a brief nod, then went about checking her patient's vital functions.

Charles felt only a flutter of consciousness from Erik, then he was asleep again. He fell against the wall, shaky, mouth suddenly dry. It would have been so very easy to reestablish the connection, but he refused to be needy, to give in.

It would be Erik's choice.

x x x x x x x x x x x x

The next time Erik roused was for a longer stretch. More tests were performed, bandages changed, and he was given a few sips of water. The IV was his only nutritional source and while there was a moment when his abilities went a little haywire, Charles managed to calm him with a touch and a smile.

The syringe, needle and assorted small metallic objects quieted.

Gray eyes looked into blue, still confused, still reflecting the suffering this man had gone through, and Charles bit down hard on the surging need to reestablish what they had lost.

He wouldn't take advantage of this. Erik hadn't been able to choose the last time and maybe he had only accepted the connection because there had been no other solution at the time.

And Charles wasn't dependent. He had never been, he never would be.

And if he told himself that 24/7 he might just start believing it.

No one knew about the severed anchor. Barely anyone knew about the anchor. Only a select few. And aside from maybe another telepath no one could understand it anyway.

So Charles ran a caress over the unshaven cheek of his partner, smiled at him, reassured him.

Inside he was slowly tearing himself to pieces.

x x x x x x x x x x x x x x

Whenever he was lucid enough, Erik allowed himself to slide towards the warm point in his mind where Charles' mind welcomed him. There was an odd quality to it, but he put it down to the drugs. Its character was different, missing Charles' beauty and power, but he put that down to the drugs, too. And it was missing the almost silent, underlying pulse of Charles' heartbeat; again, he blamed the medication that kept his sensation fuzzy and his thoughts jumbled.
It was okay though, because Charles was there with him.

Only when he started to have moments of actual wakefulness did he start to wonder. One afternoon he woke. He knew he was awake even though he couldn't feel his body, because he could hear soft snoring. When he turned his head, he saw Charles, arms crossed on the edge of the mattress, head down, sleeping fitfully. The only part of himself he was capable of moving was his hand and that was trapped under Charles. Which was fine. But as he smiled to himself and closed his eyes again, slipping back to unconsciousness, he had a second to realize there was something strange about the connection in his mind; it was awake. In his head, Charles was awake.

It was wrong. But the thought didn't stick, slipping away from him like oil as darkness took him.

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

When he was finally awake for longer stretches of time, Erik Lensherr became clearer on his environment. He realized he was home, safe, and that Charles had found him. He had been told about the extent of his injuries, how serious it was, and that he had been out for a week. He understood the need for his body to regain its strength and that being confined to the hospital bed was for his own good. Not that he felt strong enough to even get out of said bed.

Visitors were monitored and whenever he got tired, Hank or Cecilia ushered them out. The only person who was allowed to come and go as he wished was Charles.

Who looked like crap.

Erik's sharp eyes took in every line, every shadow, noticed the pale skin and the exhaustion in every move or gesture. While Charles tried to uphold a façade of composure and control, he was failing on all fronts when it came to Erik.

Because Erik knew him. Closer and better than even Raven, who had mentioned something once or twice that her brother wasn't handling this well. Erik had noticed the hint and he had tried to pin down just what it was.

He had gotten hurt. Charles had been worried. But he had found Erik and brought him home. So what was the problem?

"You're not talking to me," Erik said as he sat half-propped up in bed. His stomach protested prolonged sitting.

Charles looked at him, startled. "I don't?"

"In here." Erik touched his temple, IV lines and cables trailing down his arm. He felt like a freaking machine himself.

His lover looked caught. There was no other word for it.

"Charles?" he queried, voice growing sharper.

What was going on?

"You need rest," the telepath murmured and was about to rise, but Erik's hand shot out and grabbed the fleeing man.

Charles froze.

"What aren't you telling me?" the other mutant demanded.

For all his missing strength, his mind was clear and sharp. Gray eyes narrowed dangerously.

"Charles?"

"We can talk about that when you're well again, my friend."

His jaw hardened. "I'm as good as it gets right now. And we talk about it. What. Is. Going. On?" Erik growled, tugging at the wrist in his grasp.

Charles didn't fight him, probably afraid to hurt his lover, which was ridiculous. Narrowed eyes looked over the washed-out appearing man, noticing how bad he was again. This was far from worry. This was more.

"Charles, talk," he bit out. He tried to broadcast the order, but he only got a little flinch from the other man and that wasn't normal either. "What have you done?"

"Nothing. I didn't do anything," Charles answered quickly.

Erik's mind was racing. Something had happened. Something bad. Something that stopped Charles from doing the natural thing… Mind-talk.

::Talk to me!:: he yelled loudly.

The blue eyes widened abruptly and Charles gasped, knees buckling a little. Erik held on to his wrist, refusing to give him the chance to run for it, and Charles fell onto the chair that was still next to the bed.

"Did this thing hurt you?" Erik demanded. "Was it psychic as well?"

"No! No, it wasn't that…" Charles drew a deep breath, weakly trying to tug his hand out of the tight grasp.

Fat chance, Erik thought, looking directly at this lover.

"It didn't hurt me, Erik," the telepath tried, voice dropping to a calm and soothing manner.

Not working either, Erik growled to himself. He wouldn't fall for it. He was no longer a victim of too many drugs in his system and the pain in his body was a welcome distraction to the muddled thoughts of before. Pain was a known factor, an old friend, and he used the sharp aches to focus.

"What happened?" he repeated coldly.

Silence.

"Charles!"

It got him a shiver. "When the creature hurt you… it… backlashed."

He frowned.

"Into me."

Well, shit!

Charles smiled weakly. "Yes."

It still wasn't the whole truth. Charles was a strong telepath and he had fought off attacks before. He had influenced a thousand minds four years ago, wiping their actions from those minds, and he went out into the world on a daily basis with that receptive brain of his. He had held his own against Emma Frost. He had honed his skills and become so much more, so much stronger…

Erik frowned more.

Something was missing.

And then it hit him like a ton of bricks between the eyes.

Something was truly missing. Something… something like the gentle touch of the telepath against his mind, the warmth, the curl of strength that had been there ever since the start of their relationship off the coast of Miami. Erik was used to being Charles' anchor, his balance, when the telepath needed him. It was second nature and it didn't bother him.

Now there was… nothing…

"Charles?" he queried tonelessly. "What happened to the anchor?"

His lover paled dramatically. Bingo!

"Charles… What happened?" he repeated more loudly.

"It's… gone," was the quiet answer.

Erik felt shock course through him. Violent and with the force of a tidal wave.

Gone.

The anchor line was… gone…

"How?" he stuttered, totally overrun by the information.

"The backlash. Your pain… it was too much. I couldn't buffer and it took me out," the telepath whispered, voice almost monotonous. "It simply collapsed."

"Simply?" he exploded, fingers digging into the wrist he held. "Simply, Charles?"

The noise of pain had him freeze and he let go of the wrist, guilt flooding him. Charles only looked at the mistreated limb, but he didn't flee. He sat there, next to Erik's bed, looking miserable and alone and small and hurt…

Without the anchor line.

Damnation!

Erik used the remote to push himself up further and gently placed a hand onto Charles' arm.

"Look at me."

Charles sighed and raised his head, face filled with so many emotions they took Erik's breath away.

"Why didn't you reestablish?"

"It would have meant taking advantage of you."

He stared. He blinked. He would have laughed if it hadn't been so shocking and ridiculous and mind-numbing. His stomach ached and his shoulder protested his movements, but he shoved the pain away.

This had to be dealt with.

Now!

"Repeat that, please," he heard himself say tonelessly.

"The first time I anchored I did so without your consent," Charles replied, voice growing stronger, growing angry. "I took. I never asked. I didn't think it would become permanent! It did and it became a liability!"

Erik opened his mouth to say something, but the sharp words of his lover cut him off.

"I took from you and you never had a choice! Now you have it! You know the downside to it, the backlash it can hold! I'm not going to just take again! It's an intrusion, a breach of privacy and trust! You never knew what you were getting into! Not this time. I want you to understand what this is, Erik. You've seen the negative sides. You know what it does to you…"

"Good god, shut up!" Erik yelled, wishing he could get up.

Pain flared in his body, too many places to count. He ignored it again. Charles looked at him like a startled rabbit.

"Will you please just shut up?" the other mutant repeated. "I'm not the victim, Charles! You didn't take advantage of me!"

"I did!" the telepath yelled back. "I took, Erik! I became a leech! You didn't know and you couldn't choose!"

"I chose to stay, you moron!"

Charles violently shook his head.

"I chose you!" Erik added harshly. "I chose you, Charles. Only you! And with it the telepathy! I trusted you with my mind and the anchor… the anchor is nothing compared to what you could do to me!"

"It's not about my abilities, don't you understand?"

"No, it's about your misunderstood code of chivalry!"

Erik gritted his teeth against a new surge of pain. Charles was slowly retreating, body and mind, and he used a fraction of his power to slam the door shut.

"Erik, open the door," came the toneless order.

"Make me!" he challenged.

Blue eyes burned with self-recrimination and anger. Gray eyes held the fury and met it with their own.

"I understand it, Charles. I know what the anchor means! YOU told me. YOU! And you said you would have removed yourself if I had said no!" Erik drove his point home.

Charles shook his head.

"I want this! I want you, dumbass! I want this connection!" Erik held his stomach with his right hand, the left immobile due to the shoulder brace.

"It's a liability," came the weak argument.

"As is my inability to breathe underwater," Erik deadpanned.

Charles stared. "W-what?"

"I want you by my side," Erik repeated what he had said so long ago. "You and me, together. The past four years have been incredible. I don't want to lose that, Charles. I don't want to lose you. I want the anchor."

"Not while you're on drugs, in pain… This has to be a conscious decision…"

"I can't get any more fucking conscious, Xavier!" he snarled. "Stop playing the martyr and think of yourself for once, for god's sake!"