A/N: So, this chapter is kinda short. And kinda cliffhanger-y...sorry? But it's either the next chapter, or the one after that where we turn Cherik, just for everyone to know! So, sorry about the shortness of this one again...and the obssessive amounts of Cap Locks...

Disclaimer: If I owned any of these things, I'd be doing much more than just writing fanfiction... All rights belong to the proper people...

"Charles? What do you possibly think that you are doing?" Erik screeched out from the end of the hallway. It had been at least two hours since he had left Charles to head towards his room by himself. Now, as he headed to his own room, he saw something that looked quite a bit like Charles' wheelchair down at the end of the hallway.

As tired as Erik was, he ran down the hall to check on his friend. "Charles?" he said softly, lightly tapping his friend on the shoulder. "Are you okay?" Charles tossed a little bit on the floor, and slowly opened his eyes. "Why are you sleeping out in the hallway Charles?" Erik said, surprisingly calm.

"The floor looked cozy," Charles responded, obviously trying to lighten the mood.

"And not your bed inside your room? Why aren't you sleeping in there?" Charles didn't respond at first. He just gave Erik that glare that Erik was suddenly getting used to.

xxxxx

"Why didn't you go into your bedroom Charles?" Erik asked again.

"My chair wouldn't fit through the doorway," Charles mumbled, hoping Erik could still hear him, so he didn't have to repeat himself. Charles watched as Erik's face changed to sudden shock.

"Well why didn't you call for help? You know someone could have easily…"

"NO!" Charles shouted. "ERIK YOU DON'T UNDERSTAND! YOU DON'T GET IT! I DON'T WANT YOUR HELP. HANK'S HELP. ANY ONES' HELP. NO ONES'!" Charles stopped and took a deep breath. He saw Erik's face of pure shock, but didn't stop. "AND YOU, OF ALL PEOPLE, ARE THE PERSON WHO I WANT THE LEAST HELP FROM! YOU'VE DONE YOUR FAIR SHARE OF HELPING ME! IF IT WASN'T FOR YOU, EVERYTHING WOULD BE NORMAL. I'D BE WALKING, AND EVER ONE WOULD HAVE BEEN TRAINED 4 MONTHS MORE!"

"Charles, if you don't want me here…" Erik tried to cut it.

"NO ERIK! I DON'T WANT YOU HERE!" Charles took one more deep breath, and spoke very softly, "Please. Leave us. We'd be better off if you weren't here as a constant reminder of why it happened."

Charles saw a small tear slide down the side of Erik's nose, and immediately wished he hadn't said any of that. Where was this all coming from? Before he could say anything else to Erik, he saw him head towards his own room, walked inside, and came back out, with something in each hand. His right hand held the suitcase that he had lived out of at the hospital. In his left hand held the helmet which had previously belonged to Sebastian Shaw.

Please Erik, no. I didn't mean any of it. Erik. Please. But before any one of the thoughts reached Erik's mind, his head was covered with that horrible helmet. Within the next minute, Charles heard a loud slam of the front door. Please Erik…

Immediately after the loud noise, Charles saw five bodies rushing toward him down the hallway. They were all asking him why he had been sleeping on the floor, why Erik had left, but Charles blew off all of their questions.

"I couldn't get my wheelchair through the door. Hank would you mind getting me and my chair into my room?" Hank nodded, and lifted the wheelchair at an angle so that it's fit through the door way. Then Hank picked up the telepath and put him into the chair.

"Will you be good from here Professor?" Hank asked, and Charles gave the blue boy a kind nod. "Ok, well if you decide you need any help, don't be afraid to call," and Hank wiggled his fingers next to the side of his own head. Charles gave a small chuckle.

"I will," Charles responded, feeling a little bit better, but suddenly felt terrible again. Why did I say that to Erik? How did I send away my best friend? Erik, if you can hear me, I'm sorry, I didn't mean any of it. Please come home. Charles projected to the metal bender, secretly hoping that putting on the helmet was just an act.

Charles got himself dressed in his pajamas, and rolled his chair over to the side of his bed. He steadied his arms on the mattress of his bed. He pushed himself up, and turned around, now sitting on his bed – his legs hanging over the edge. Charles grabbed his two limp legs, and lifted them up onto the bed. He positioned a few pillows behind him, and laid his head down.

I'd better get some good rest. I've got lots of fixing to do tomorrow.

Good night Erik he thought instinctively.

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