Charles hasn't been that awfully embarrassed in a while. He opened the door without any second thought, barely awake and not coherent, and stared at Erik for two minutes unable to say a word. He was so ashamed when he had to remove books from the armchair, because there was nowhere to sit. But the worst thing and even the thought of such a terrible misstep on his part – oh Lord – he shamelessly offered his guest brandy, though normal people started their morning with tea or coffee. Erik's ironically raised eyebrows were the only indication of his bewilderment.

Erik is a polite and intelligent companion. To think, that they talked about Charles' expedition half an hour.

Oh, dear…

He is a fool… Erik… Erik with his noble upbringing was so patient that allowed Charles to continue, without betraying his obvious boredom.

Marvelous… Just great. The only person he got acquainted with wouldn't want to see him again. And would be absolutely right.

Charles tried not to get more upset. He needs to find something to do, to keep himself occupied. Tomorrow, they arrive in the port. In fact, he had nothing to do, but checking the documentation and rearranging the names of the plants in the alphabetical order was a good distraction.

Evening came quickly.

Alex and Sean came to check on him. Hank knocked and asked some vague questions every single hour. Poor Henry was as far from discreet as Cain from intelligent, which reminded Charles again… No, there will be time to think about that. But not now.

Soon, concern, expressed by Hank and boys, was too much to bear. There's no need to get so agitated. For God's sake!

He took his coat and quietly closed the door behind himself. Getting fresh air – seemed like a brilliant idea.

There were more people on the deck, than he expected. Armchair, which has served him as a coach the previous night, was occupied by an elderly lady. Young girls stood nearby – their laughter, light and merry echoed through the deck and disappeared in the distance, joining the drowning sun. A couple went by and a woman took one look at him and whispered something to her husband. They looked at him and smiled unkindly. Wind carried the fragments spoken in French – '…the one from last night' and '… look at him, probably too ashamed to show up… disturbing good people…'

Only now he realized what was meant by Erik. What an amazing thing – rumor? The more absurd and bizarre it is the faster it spreads. In fact, it was his fault. Charles pretended to look for something in his pocket – his fingers clutched the almost round shape of the watch. He tried to mask the treacherous wave of embarrassment. Very really he was in public. How did they recognize him? Strange. If he was a suspicious man, he might have thought that rumors were Alex's doing. Young man never failed to be surprisingly inventive then it came to his so-called revenge. Charles told himself that this feature demonstrates Mr. Summer's strategic thinking and soon will be used for good purpose.

Let's pray for it.

Deep rumble of familiar voice caught his attention. In attempt to retreat as quickly as possible he ran into a grey-haired gentleman, who stepped on his foot in retaliation. Charles tried to put some distance between them, but stumbled and blindingly bumped something hard. He looked up; the only thought was wildly circulating in his head – it must me doom. He knew without looking whose face he was going to see.

As expected, he was pressed chest to chest with no one but Erik Lensherr. He also grabbed the lapel of his fine grey coat with the same hand still holding his stupid broken watch. And Charles had hoped that this day wouldn't be getting worse. In vain.

Erik stared down at him – his eyes, glinting with a fascinating metallic hue – a striking colour, noticed Charles. Oh, he looked almost … friendly.

'Excuse me, my friend! Didn't notice you! I apologize, sorry!'

Charles has met a difficulty. He couldn't detach watch from Erik's coat. It was somehow strangled… loose thread. Worse and worse, signed Charles.

'Your friend, Herr Eisenhardt? Why don't you introduce us?' a charming lady broke awkward silence and flashed a wide smile.

'Charles Xavier,' Erik turned and meaningfully added, 'and without his help, I wouldn't be able to enjoy the pleasure of your company.'

'How interesting,' she made a graceful gesture of offering her hand, adding slowly, but surely. 'Countess De Kud. It's a pleasure. By the way, have we met before? Your name is familiar,' she looked him up and down, starting with his confused expression.

She was sharp and dangerously so, flashed a thought.

'Probably not,' Charles was carefully choosing his words. 'Unless you visit Oxford frequently. And if once seen, you are impossible to forget,' added he lamely, but sincerely.

'Madam, do excuse us, but Mr. Xavier and I have some unfinished business.'

Erik's voice didn't have any ounce of regret, fake or true.

They bowed to the countess, after exchanging some pleasantries.

'You've saved me twice, Charles,' said Erik mockingly and offered. 'Join me in the hall bar, that gambling paradise is amusing, if a bit noisy.'

About an hour later, Charles found himself fairly drunk in the company of indecently sober Erik. They didn't join the game, but Charles was presented with an opportunity to appreciate the local bar. And he did. Appreciated, that is. The rational part of his brain has ceased to show signs of existence after the second glass of that wonderful French cognac. Taking into consideration, that Charles has already started his day with brandy, his tongue took hold of his mind. And without any preamble he rushed to his favorite topic, unashamed about asking personal questions or inquiring Erik as if they were close friends. Erik, miraculously, answered him and even added something himself, while wearing a look of clear amusement. Charles was purposefully digging himself a grave, but at the moment he was beyond caring.

'Don't want to impose, but my offer remains. You mentioned, you were born and raised in Africa – just the area, which we'll be investigating – secluded and previously unexplored. Meeting you is a big success. For the project, I mean. Ah, thank you…'

Charles saluted the bartender and continued:

'As far as I understand, you are familiar with some breaking discoveries. Of course, they are not related to my field, which is entirely specific. I want to… Do you know that Africa is considered to be the cradle of human civilization? The flora and fauna of Africa – if you're looking for something specific, you may get lost in the variety of species. One may say, that native people also…'

He was babbling, realized Charles through drunken fog.

'Your offer is tempting,' drawled Erik gracefully holding his glass with long clever fingers.

Charles has caught himself staring, mesmerized.

'I have to fulfill a promise to a friend. And, I'm afraid it'll take more time than planned.'

'Sorry to hear it, but,' Charles wasn't giving up easily, 'do not forget, all arrangements will take, hm, approximately two weeks. If you'd be free by the time, we'll be glad to see you in our group.'

Erik nodded.

Charles felt strangely encouraged and elated.

'Speaking about Alex, I've reached the dead end. I must confess, I hoped to… how to put it… to channel his aggression into socially acceptable… you know. Ah, sorry, Erik. I think, I got to the stage of intoxication called – "begging for sympathy with the help of … stories, describing how difficult your life is in all details".'

Lord, he actually said that one.

'What's the next stage?' inquired Erik with a mischievous glint in his eyes.

Charles was diligently searching for the answer at the bottom of his now almost empty glass. A thought nagged at him. Was it unease from before? Right, he may ask now. There's no dignity left to lose.

'Here's the strange thing, Erik,' he said, instead of answering. 'That night, I had the hell of the headache, but when I woke up – I bet, I felt someone's intent… as distinctly as I can feel your disbelief right now. I saw you so clearly. I still cannot understand what has led me to you. A moment of serenity…' muttered Charles in the end and nearly shivered at the phantom memory.

'This moment you described, would be craved into everyone's memory for sure,' Erik shook his head. 'You have to become a poet. Don't let that talent go to waste!'

Charles laughed in response – he was basking in the delight of complete relaxation.

'Erik, you've got a great sense of humor. Excuse me, but may I ask you a question?'

Erik's answered by lifting his glass.

'It goes without saying, that it's none of my business,' he leaned closer and conspiratorially lowered his voice. 'Is everything all right? There was somebody on the deck, someone who pushed you, and I must confess, I've never seen anything like that before…so…' he paused to take a breath, 'someone was there to kill you. Maybe, just maybe, I'm overdramatizing here, but the only possible conclusion I've made is, well, it has something to do with your secret mission – you're travelling incognito; our captain gave you an opportunity to escape immediately after the incident. I'm not complaining, but I had to spend about an hour in his quarters, and got tired retelling and remaking the story due to your absence.'

Erik looked straight into Charles' darkened eyes – the bizarre shadows made them black and bottomless. Almost like the first time they met. Charles in his helping mode was quite persistent. Erik wholeheartedly understood the lad – Alex was his name…

Do not rely on others when you can do something yourself. Every page in his life has provided infinite proof of this rule. Besides, this case was of dangerous and delicate kind.

'You're a good person, Erik. If there's something I can help you with, just say, and I'll gladly…'

'Hey! What a surprise? How is life treating you, Charlie? Finally decided to come out, huh?'

Erik turned and saw the owner of the loud voice – a big, gaudily dressed man. Erik recognized him from before. This man's failed attempt to cheat in poker had resulted in a minor scuffle a few days earlier. At the time Erik decided to help the victim by preventing the clumsy attempts of an elderly baronet to rush out with his fists. If you ask Erik, it'd look like a battle between an old monkey and a hippo. This so-called fight only reinforced his opinion that almost all humans do not know how to gauge their strength.

'Did you run out of alcohol and decided to switch to the bar?'

'Cain, it hurts to imagine how much time you have spent coming up with such exquisite remark,' Charles clasped his hands in the lock so hard that his knuckles turned white. 'Would you be so kind and think on your next pun somewhere else?'

The hippo-man sniffed, indignantly.

'Cain, you should act like adult. Childish pranks are not in fashion any more. Do you want to talk about anything?' calmly asked Charles, and Erik, a silent observer, has noticed a barely concealed nervousness in his tone.

'Bastard… Acting high and mighty, I see,' muttered the hippo-man, face flushed with anger.

He faced away as if preparing to go. But suddenly he turned around and the next moment he was dangerously close to Charles. That won't do. Erik grabbed the offending fist in mid-air and slammed down on the countertop. There was a snap of broken glass – man's meaty fist has met a tumbler and red blood mixed with spilled drink was flowing in thin ribbons. Like tiny red snakes…

It became very quiet for a moment, but only for a moment. Here and there the occasional laughter can be heard as well as the clinking of glasses and agitated calls.

Charles seemed to stop breathing. Abruptly, he turned deathly white and looked at Erik as if he was drowning.

Erik raised to his feet and put a firm hand on Charles' shoulder.

'Charles, stand up, we're leaving. If I see you once again,' stated Erik simply, turning his head in hippo-man's direction,'the consequences will be more… unpleasant.'

Hippo-man was pressing the towel, provided by bartender, to his injured hand. In his small eyes the ocean of fury was boiling. Impressive emotions, decided Erik. That's a pity, that vessel was not as impressive.

'You'll regret it, Charlie! Did you hear me? First, I'll smash that lap dog of yours. Hey, you're not listening to me!'

Soon, his voice has turned into unrecognizable growl. Erik never looked back.

He didn't remove his hand. Instead, he had to drag Charles all the way like a puppet, literally. They must make quite a picture.

It turned out, that the door of Charles' cabin was unlocked. As expected, sighed Erik. He decided, that armchair was comfortable enough. Charles leaned back and slowly started to regain himself. Erik helped him to hold the glass of water.

In a minute, his eyes became focused and apologetic and his breathing evened out. Charles squeezed Erik's hand and Erik let him, though he had to remain in an uncomfortable not quite standing position.

'Erik, I don't even know where I shall start. I apologize so often, that you must be tired,' he swallowed the end of the sentence. 'Cain is my brother. No, not in that sense. He is my stepfather's son. And Cain is a bit… um… short-tempered and rude – the faults of his upbringing, I assume. In addition, we've had a … disagreement. Well, you know these family matters… Hard to find a compromise…'

'Charles, are you trying to rehabilitate this pathetic excuse of human being in my eyes?'

'Am I really? Yes, you've caught me.'

'Next time, you should try better. Why are you so concerned about him? Because, I hope I won't be seeing this … stepbrother of yours anymore.'

'Oh, no! Erik, please, listen to me carefully, my friend. Cain may be unintelligent, but he is cunning and ruthless!' he wearily added. 'What I ask you is to be careful. Will you?'

'Believe me, Charles, there's nothing to worry about.'

'Well, and this phrase usually works as a catalyst… You've accepted it so stoically – I mean, my behavior hasn't shocked you. I'd apologize again, if there was some sense in apologizing.'

He looked at familiar calm expression. He was still drunk so he uttered, unthinkingly, 'Your eyes are of the most unusual nature I've ever seen. So interesting! I was ready to swear that they are grey, but they were blue a minute ago, and now they are green… Perhaps…' Charles tried to take a closer look.

A knock has shattered his world into pieces. Like glass, crushed by Cain's fist.

'Come in!' he called out, because getting up and opening the door was beyond him at the moment.

Erik gently removed his hand and stood straight on his right. He should take a sword in his hands and put on a cape – purple will go, so the image of the knight will be more striking. Well, it's not that Erik isn't extremely good-looking as he is… Charles chuckled to himself only to be addressed with a worried look. Great, now his rumored insanity is confirmed once and for all.

Hank pushed through the half-open door in his usual manner. He entered each room as if he was afraid that the assassin is standing by the door, ready to chop off heads.

Charles cursed – alcohol hit stronger than usual. His mind is playing by its own rules.

'Professor, can I speak to you? Sorry to interrupt,' he glanced at Erik with open anxiety.

'Hank, this is my friend, Mr. Len…'

'Maximillian Eisenhardt,' interrupted Erik, emphasizing his surname.

Charles wanted to bite his treacherous tongue in half. Another nail in the coffin of his friendship with Erik.

'Henry McCoy, you were the one drowning,' Hank's eyes behind his glasses narrowed.

'Mr. McCoy, you confused me with somebody else,' he nodded to Hank and looked at Charles. 'Charles, it was my pleasure. Be safe.'

'You too! And don't forget about my offer! It stands good!'

The door has already closed behind Erik and Hank's fidgeting finally got his attention.

'Hank, how can I assist you?'

'It's about tomorrow. I'd like to know… ' Charles calmly waited for him. It was pointless to make Hank hurry – this was one of the lessons learned from personal experience.

Of course, he was waiting for Erik near the cabin. Hiding in the shadows – a proper place for cowards. Darkness has been his ally since as long as he remembers. In the dark he saw more clearly than some individuals at noon. The stance of the boxer, apparently. Well, that makes it easier. Erik grabbed a fist aimed at his head and twisted it. The second hand, aimed lower, met nothing.

Erik pushed his attacker chest to the door, and fumbled with a lock. Door opened inside and Cain fell on his face like a sack of stones. No balance at all. Erik was on him before he managed to get to his feet. Steel fingers locked on his throat, preventing him from making a sound. Erik lifted him off the floor and slammed against the wall. He gasped and struggled but Erik did not let go.

He continued to choke him until Cain's face became a picture of blue and red. Then, he stepped back.

After an obligatory coughing, Erik spoke in the measured voice:

'Can you taste death right now? I guarantee that I'm one of those people who hate unfinished jobs.'

Cain was breathing heavily and clutching his bandaged hand to his chest.

'You are a beast! Monster!' he croaked. 'Wait, till I speak to authorities, and you'll get exactly what you deserve.'

'I see. The irony of your position is slipping away from you.'

'What? How dare you laugh at me?'

'You attacked me in my own room. After the bar, and, by the way, there were a lot of witnesses; you were stupid enough to break in here.'

Erik shook his head in honest disbelief – logic is powerless in this case.

'Charlie found himself a guard dog. That scrawny bastard cannot even stand up for himself. Loser…' wheezed out Cain in pathetic attempt to blame someone else for his failure.

But Erik suddenly became enraged. Something in him snapped and Erik hit without holding back. Punch to the head, twist the wrist and hear the satisfying sound. Good. Elbow to the ribs. Break, kill, destroy.

Through the haze of pain Cain heard someone's terrifying growl. Strong arms lifted him to his feet and shook. Before he was pushed to the corridor, a voice roared in his ears:

'Stay away from him! Otherwise, I'll find you and break every single bone in your body!'

Abruptly, the door slammed shut, and Cain heavily leaned against the wall on shaking legs, trying to figure out who or what has just beaten the hell out of him, as if he, Cain, was the petty weakling.

oOo

OooOooO

oOo

Author Notes:

Well, thank you guys for reading. The story was published on AOZ, but today the author has decided to engage in a battle with formatting. Anyway, hope you'll like it.

Feedback would be lovely as well as criticism - I'm not an English speaker, but I like the language and ready to work on my mistakes.

Have a nice day!