Erik Lenhsherr was not a tender man.

"Erik, that's enough.", whispered the professor between his clenched teeth.

"What was that Charles?". The metalbender was grinning slightly and seemed highly pleased with himself.

"Erik…", Charles mumbled. "Careful…" One last step on the accelerator-

"Come on Charles, don't be such a-

"Erik that's enough!".

When it came to mutants search, it was the two of them. They would travel together, sometimes by plane, but usually they had to go through endless car trips. Erik would drive too fast, taunting Charles as the telepath would gradually grow uneasy. Today was no different. As far as he could remember, the metalbender had always loved driving hefty and fast vehicles. The CIA cars were like a childhood fantasy to him

There was no sign of amusement in his friend's voice. Charles was genuinely frightened. Erik began to slow the car down. He was always impressed by the authority his young friend could display when he was on edge. Himself had trouble disobeying Charles when he raised his voice. Providing it wasn't only because the telepath was messing with his mind, the man will make a good teacher.

"Really Charles? Are you going to scold me like one of your students after what happened last night?" asked the metalbender teasingly. His friend cast him a quick and dark glance but feigned deafness.

After a minute of sulky silence, the telepath decided it was time to retort :"I think you have a defective mutant gene my friend. You should have been a speedster, not some kind of human magnet."

"You're the one with the defective genes, Charles. Are you sure your telepathic skills are working properly?" asked Erik as he watched the scenery outside the car. They appeared to be lost in the middle of nowhere: they had left the main road and were now following a lonely track barely visible on the burning sedimentary soil of Florida.

"I'm positive the mutant we're looking for is around somewhere."

"That's what you said when we were in that creepy dead end three hours ago."

"I told you his thoughts are blurred. That's why it's more difficult than usual." replied the telepath. "And you didn't complain about the unfrequented dead end then" Oddly enough, Charles had the tendency to deliver innuendos mentally. Erik was about to reply when his friend cried out : "Look! Isn't this a house?". He noticed a black dot in the distance : they were approaching a crooked wooden shack. It was actually the only proof living particles had reached this part of the territory.

They stopped the car.

Charles was now able to focus more efficiently. When the two men got out of the vehicle, a rush of memories invaded his mind. Memories that didn't belong to him. Violence. Torture. Memory wipe. Prison. He winced as an overwhelming pain swept over his own thoughts. Death. Soldiers. Pain. They were running experiments on him. Each of his cell was crying for release. He wanted to die but kept recovering from the bullets they shot in his chest. He wanted to kill but he couldn't move. Tied up on a metal bed. Stinking cigar. Laughs. "Looks like your healing factor saved you again Wolverine." Chains. Shotguns. Knives. "Bite the bullet furball." A hole. Escape. Metal claws. He was angry. Blood will be shed.

He heard a cry, but wasn't able to tell if it was from Wolverine or from the soldiers. He suddenly understood it was his own.

"Charles? Charles can you hear me? Are you okay?" Pain was fading. The sounds in his head became echoes. They were gradually replaced by a familiar and friendly voice . The telepath tried to open his eyes slowly. He was two feet away from the car and Erik was looking down at him with concern. He wasn't able to speak proprely : "Metal... Adamantium claws". He realized he was lying on the ground but didn't even remember falling down. He tried to get his head straight but couldn't conjure away the sight of blood on his hands nor the sound of bullets piercing his skin. He had dirt in his mouth and in his eyes and the blazing sun prevented him from opening them completely. He tried to spit but his throat was dry. Instead he muttered : "He's not here." But Erik was barely listening. The mental bender picked him up and carried him back to the car.

"He's not here... He's... I think I'm going to be sick."

"Let's get away from here." uttered Erik harshly. He was angry with this unknown mutant for harming his friend. He was angry with himself for allowing them to run after a guy who clearly didn't want to be found. He was angry with Charles for acting the Good Samaritan without caring about the danger his was facing.

But anger vanished as he watched his half-counscious, shivering friend curled up into a ball in the backseat. Erik felt a flowering of tenderness and concern for the telepath. He seized him by the waist to let him rest on his shoulder. With his hand, he removed carefully some dirt still stuck in Charles' hair and gently stroked his forehead.

After a while the young professor seemed to relax and was breathing more easily. He still looked exhausted but not in pain anymore. A tiny smile even appeared on his lips when he realized the metalbender was holding him.

"I told you you were the one with defective genes"

The telepath laughed sleepily : "Get lost!".

Erik complied and made his way to the front seat. "I'll drive slowly" he added teasingly.

Erik Lenhsherr was not a tender man, but there was hope for him, yet.