"Never Let Me Go" 2/? (XMFC Charles/Erik)
Title: Never Let Me Go
Author: cgf_kat (ChristianGateFan most other places)
Rating: PG-13 atm, though it may be higher later
Word Count: 5,570 so far
Pairings: Charles/Erik
Summary: The mission to Russia goes differently, and with Erik dying in his arms Charles takes desperate, drastic action to save him.
When Charles woke there was a hand in his, he felt the same sort of cheap metal-framed bed beneath him, the same coarse sheets, and his eyes blinked open to the same dull gray ceiling he'd been seeing quite often in recent weeks-when he and Erik weren't out tracking down the mutants he'd found with Cerebro.
Erik.
Oh god, Erik…
And…not the same ceiling. The room was larger, the dull gray a little less dull.
"Wh…where…?"
The smaller hand in his squeezed, and then there was another on his forehead, smoothing his hair back. "It's not the base. We're at CIA headquarters."
Raven.
His head seemed to pound quite a bit harder than it should at the simple effort of turning his head to find his sister beside him, in a chair by the bed that really wasn't much more than a cot, and Charles grimaced. "What? Why…?" he asked faintly.
She'd looked pleased to see him awake, but her face quickly fell.
"Raven…?"
"Later, Charles," she winced. "You should rest."
He blinked around the crustiness in his eyes, realizing that if they were back in America he had been out of it for quite a while indeed. And Raven was upset-more upset than being worried about him. There was something else. "No…what happened?"
"Not right now-"
"Raven," he insisted, as sharply as he could manage.
She stopped and let out a breath, and looked away. Her other hand pulled away from his head and she squeezed the hand of his that she held in both of hers-looking at their entwined fingers instead of him.
"Shaw attacked the other base while you were gone. We lost Darwin and every single non-mutant that was there. Angel's gone too, but because she went with Shaw. The base is in ruins, and they destroyed Cerebro. Hank, Sean, Alex, and I are fine."
Charles just stared at her for a moment, trying to process all of that. He had to swallow hard before he could say anything. "Oh god," he managed. His eyes swam, and one of Raven's hands went back to his face and he turned his cheek into it, felt her thumb stroke across his cheekbone and brush away a tear or two before they could really fall. "And I thought Russia went badly enough…"
He heard more than saw raven bite back a sob. "I'm so sorry, Charles. I'm sorry about Erik…"
Charles let out a rush of uneven breath. "I…" He didn't want to go into that now. He couldn't.
He changed the subject.
"H-how long have I…?"
"A few days," she told him gently. "You were in the infirmary until today…something about readings changing and they were pretty sure you'd come out of it soon. You know I don't understand that stuff." She frowned. "No one knew what was wrong with you. You were just out of it. You wouldn't wake up. What happened?"
He shook his head. "I uhm…I don't know. I don't. I'm sorry."
Raven sighed and leaned up to kiss his forehead. "You're fine now. I guess that's all that matters…"
Charles licked his lips nervously. "Raven, did I…was I acting strangely at all? While I was unconscious?"
Please god, please…
His sister's brow furrowed again. "Now that you mention it…yeah. Kind of. You kept getting agitated, and you were muttering a lot. Half of the time it wasn't even English…Moira and Hank said it was mostly German. I didn't even know you knew any German."
Charles's eyes slipped shut of their own accord, and all of the breath went out of him for a moment before he could pull in any more air. "I don't," he said quietly.
Now she was confused. "What?"
He shook his head slowly. "Nothing. I uhm…Raven, if you wouldn't mind…I-I would rather be alone just now…for a while. You can tell the others I'm awake, but…hold them off for a bit? Please?"
His sister studied him for a long moment and finally nodded. "Okay…" This time she leaned in to let him kiss her cheek, and she squeezed his hand and reluctantly let him be.
When she was gone Charles realized that the room had several cots, and that three of the others were obviously being used. The boys, then-bags and clothes and things strewn across two unmade beds that would belong to Sean and Alex and one bed made as immaculately as the unused cots but with a suitcase sitting on the footlocker at the end that Charles supposed was Hank's.
But he quickly lost any interest in the rest of the room.
Erik?
There was no answer.
Erik…god, Erik…
Charles merely had to close his eyes to see all of it clearly-Erik's blood on his hands and the small, contented smile Erik had given him before he died.
Content just because Charles loved him.
He could still feel Erik's lips pressed to his…the sharp metallic taste of blood mixed with the sweeter tang of sweat and tears.
Erik!
German. He'd been speaking German in his sleep. He couldn't have done it if it hadn't worked. Something of Erik was inside him, somewhere. It was what he'd tried to do. He remembered now, the desperation, how hard he'd tried to pull Erik's mind into his.
It had to have worked on some level. Even if…even if it wasn't all of him.
A small sob shook Charles's chest at the thought that maybe he'd only saved pieces. Memories. Feelings. Not Erik. Not really.
ERIK!
"Please," he sobbed aloud. "Please, please, please…"
And something shifted in his mind. Awakened. Something moved about, felt strange and awkward and wonderful all at once, and Charles shivered and sobbed again when a groggy voice answered him from within.
Charles…?
Charles latched onto the presence like a life-line-found it and tethered it to the surface of his mind so it would never be lost again…created a safe place for it.
Erik! Oh god, Erik, thank god, you're here…
I'm…where? What the hell…what happened? Why can't I move? Why can't I see you where are you? I can hear you. Who the hell is so messy…?
Charles chuckled weakly, realizing that Erik must have had access to his senses but that of course he had no control...and he realized how confusing that probably was. He closed his eyes.
What…? The lights…
He ignored that comment and drew himself into his mind, to the safe place he'd created for the other consciousness that was there. In a moment he'd shifted their perceptions, and they were there. He wasn't sure quite how it was going to turn out, but when he opened his eyes-figuratively, really-it was the library at the house in New York.
Well, it had always been the only room in that house he truly loved, besides maybe his own. He'd spent so much time in here that he supposed it made sense that his mind would translate safe and warm to this.
And Erik was there, blinking at his surroundings and turning in circles as he took in the wood paneling and shelves of books and expensive furniture and huge fireplace.
"What…? Where the hell are we?"
There was no hole in his chest here. No bloodied clothing. Just his usual trousers and black turtleneck. What he was comfortable in. Charles's subconscious mind was creating this place and maintaining it now, drawing from Erik's as well.
Charles swallowed. "It's uhm…the library. In the house Raven and I grew up in. In New York."
"If you have a house with a library like this I don't know that I want to know how big the rest of it is…" Erik trailed. Then shook his head. "No, no, no. We're not in New York. We can't be. Where are we?"
"We're in my mind."
Erik stared at him. "We're…what? How is that possible? I can't remember…wait." He paused and looked away, his expression slowly becoming haunted as it came back to him. Finally his head snapped around, and his gaze fixed on Charles. "Charles, I…I died."
Charles crossed his arms over his chest and nodded wordlessly, gulping back the lump in his throat. And why did it have to seem so real in here, anyway? Sometimes he wished his powers weren't as strong as they were, as versatile. He wished it for different reasons at different times, and just now he wished it because his chest was tight and his throat was beginning to ache, and none of it was real but it felt like it.
"Then how am I here?" Erik questioned urgently. "What did you do?"
"I…I-I-I-"
"Charles, what? What did you do?" he demanded, and there was something akin to horror on his face and it was not the reaction Charles had expected.
"I-I saved you. The only way I could. I didn't know what else to do."
Erik blinked. "So what? I'm just…I'm in your head?"
He nodded again. "I pulled your consciousness into myself."
Erik swallowed now. "Then…when I woke up just now…"
"You were seeing and hearing what I was. Feeling, too, possibly. I'm not sure how far it goes. I-I…I've never done anything like this before. I didn't know if it would work, so I'm not entirely sure how it works, now…" He trailed off helplessly, with no idea what to say after that.
And Erik was upset. He could see it and he could feel it and Charles had come so close to losing him but he hadn't, not quite, and he didn't want to deal with Erik angry at him just now, if that was what was about to happen. He couldn't do that yet.
"Erik…"
"Charles, what the hell were you thinking? I can't stay here. I can't live here! Not forever. I'm dead, for god's sakes!"
"No you're not. You aren't! Your body may be gone but your mind is still here. You are not dead. You're here," Charles insisted.
"But for how long? This can't last, can it? This is only delaying the inevitable!"
"Well what if I wanted to!"
Erik went still, staring at him wide-eyed, and after studying him for a moment Charles realized that it wasn't anger in Erik's eyes. It was pain.
"Charles, I asked you to let me go," he whispered. "It would have been better if you'd let me go."
"I know that!" Charles choked. No I don't. How would it have been better? You would be gone. How is that better? He kept those thoughts to himself."I'm sorry! I panicked!" He wasn't sorry. But he had panicked.
Or…part of him was sorry, now. Erik was in pain, and it was his fault. Erik had thought it was over, but it wasn't. He was still here.
Charles had to convince him that it was a good thing.
It was, wasn't it?
Erik looked at him for a long moment, lost. "I don't understand…why did you…? I don't understand."
He sobbed once. He didn't mean to. "I couldn't lose you."
The look of pain and sympathy Erik gave him then was almost too much. "Charles…it's already over. It was over when the bullet hit me."
Charles shook his head stubbornly, not unlike he had before in Russia. "No! You don't understand. We can figure something out. It doesn't have to be over. You don't have to be…dead…gone…we can do something. We can figure this out. We can."
"Figure what out?"
Charles's eyes closed, and now the shake of his head was more helpless than anything. "I don't know," he moaned. "Erik, please, can we...not do this now? Do we have to do it now? I know this is crazy. I know I acted rashly. But you're here, and I just…please?"
He opened his eyes…watched the tension in Erik's shoulders ever-so-slowly release. The guarded, pained looked faded enough for him to see…whatever it was that was underneath. It wasn't quite clear, and Charles was too shaken to attempt to read anyone just now.
Erik came to him, slowly, and took Charles's shoulders in his hands. Charles looked up at him, bewildered, because he didn't know what was going to happen now.
"I'm sorry," Erik said finally. "You tried to save me and now I'm panicking, and I'm taking it out on you. I shouldn't have done that. I'm not making this any easier for you."
Charles let out a heavy breath. "It's all right…" he trailed weakly. He looked away, but Erik turned his chin back to face him.
"No, it's not. You're upset. Dying is one thing, but watching someone else die is worse."
"Certainly if it's someone you care about," Charles whispered painfully. Erik nodded silently. He didn't have to say anything else, because Charles knew that he knew. He'd watched his mother die. Charles had watched Erik die.
Warm lips pressed to his forehead, and Charles closed his eyes. "I just-I couldn't bear the thought-"
"Do you think I wanted to leave?" Erik whispered. "And…and after you told me what you did? I told you I was all right…I lied."
Charles sobbed again, and this time it came with tears. "Erik…"
Erik pulled him into his arms, held him close, and it was exactly what Charles wanted now. What he needed. His arms came up around Erik's shoulders and his fingers dug in but Erik didn't seem to mind at all.
Of course not. Because this wasn't real.
He buried his face in Erik's shoulder to smother another sob, let the fabric soak up the silent tears and he knew Erik wouldn't mind that either. Not now. He breathed in the scent of Erik's shirt and knew it was only from memory-his subconscious providing the sensation where it was needed to make this illusion complete-but he pushed knowledge of the fact aside and tried to let it soothe him anyway. It worked enough that he felt himself finally relaxing, too.
Once he had Erik pulled back just enough to look at him, to brush his fingers under Charles's chin and turn it up again.
But when he leaned closer Charles let out a small gasp and ducked his head, his face twisting in pain.
"What's wrong?"
He didn't see it, but he knew Erik was frowning, and his thumb still brushed against Charles's chin.
"I'm sorry," Charles cried quietly. "It's my fault. I couldn't protect you. She was a telepath, Erik, and I was stronger than she was! I should have been able to protect you!" He didn't look up. He couldn't look up.
But then his face was being turned up again, by force-not harsh force, just firm, but gentle-and then Erik's other hand was against his cheek, and Erik was shaking his head.
"It's not your fault. It happened. Things happen."
"But…" Could have fought her off sooner. Could have gotten you out of there. Could have MADE you not go into that room and you would have hated me for it but you would be fine…
Erik silenced him with a kiss, warm and soft and not much like Erik at all but somehow all him, and certainly not anything like Russia. But in some way it was what they both needed right now, and when it was done Erik left his forehead against Charles's.
"Shh," Erik scolded. "You're right; we don't need to do this right now."
"I wish we didn't have to do it at all," Charles swallowed.
"I know…"
Erik guided him to the couch by near the fireplace and drew him down onto it next to him, and Charles didn't protest. He didn't say anything, either, when Erik kept his arms tightly around him. Charles pulled his legs up onto the seat beside him and leaned into the touch. They were close enough that Erik could kiss him if he wanted to, and he did, more then once. Sometimes he pressed his lips to Charles's forehead, instead, or into his hair.
But otherwise they sat in silence, in each other's arms, together because they hadn't been before.
Slowly Charles began to sense Erik's emotions again, and he felt…love. He felt so much of it he didn't know how he'd overlooked it before.
But he also felt apprehension, and sorrow, and fear…everything he felt, too.
Where could they to go from here?
Author: cgf_kat (ChristianGateFan most other places)
Rating: PG-13 atm, though it may be higher later
Word Count: 5,570 so far
Pairings: Charles/Erik
Summary: The mission to Russia goes differently, and with Erik dying in his arms Charles takes desperate, drastic action to save him.
When Charles woke there was a hand in his, he felt the same sort of cheap metal-framed bed beneath him, the same coarse sheets, and his eyes blinked open to the same dull gray ceiling he'd been seeing quite often in recent weeks-when he and Erik weren't out tracking down the mutants he'd found with Cerebro.
Erik.
Oh god, Erik…
And…not the same ceiling. The room was larger, the dull gray a little less dull.
"Wh…where…?"
The smaller hand in his squeezed, and then there was another on his forehead, smoothing his hair back. "It's not the base. We're at CIA headquarters."
Raven.
His head seemed to pound quite a bit harder than it should at the simple effort of turning his head to find his sister beside him, in a chair by the bed that really wasn't much more than a cot, and Charles grimaced. "What? Why…?" he asked faintly.
She'd looked pleased to see him awake, but her face quickly fell.
"Raven…?"
"Later, Charles," she winced. "You should rest."
He blinked around the crustiness in his eyes, realizing that if they were back in America he had been out of it for quite a while indeed. And Raven was upset-more upset than being worried about him. There was something else. "No…what happened?"
"Not right now-"
"Raven," he insisted, as sharply as he could manage.
She stopped and let out a breath, and looked away. Her other hand pulled away from his head and she squeezed the hand of his that she held in both of hers-looking at their entwined fingers instead of him.
"Shaw attacked the other base while you were gone. We lost Darwin and every single non-mutant that was there. Angel's gone too, but because she went with Shaw. The base is in ruins, and they destroyed Cerebro. Hank, Sean, Alex, and I are fine."
Charles just stared at her for a moment, trying to process all of that. He had to swallow hard before he could say anything. "Oh god," he managed. His eyes swam, and one of Raven's hands went back to his face and he turned his cheek into it, felt her thumb stroke across his cheekbone and brush away a tear or two before they could really fall. "And I thought Russia went badly enough…"
He heard more than saw raven bite back a sob. "I'm so sorry, Charles. I'm sorry about Erik…"
Charles let out a rush of uneven breath. "I…" He didn't want to go into that now. He couldn't.
He changed the subject.
"H-how long have I…?"
"A few days," she told him gently. "You were in the infirmary until today…something about readings changing and they were pretty sure you'd come out of it soon. You know I don't understand that stuff." She frowned. "No one knew what was wrong with you. You were just out of it. You wouldn't wake up. What happened?"
He shook his head. "I uhm…I don't know. I don't. I'm sorry."
Raven sighed and leaned up to kiss his forehead. "You're fine now. I guess that's all that matters…"
Charles licked his lips nervously. "Raven, did I…was I acting strangely at all? While I was unconscious?"
Please god, please…
His sister's brow furrowed again. "Now that you mention it…yeah. Kind of. You kept getting agitated, and you were muttering a lot. Half of the time it wasn't even English…Moira and Hank said it was mostly German. I didn't even know you knew any German."
Charles's eyes slipped shut of their own accord, and all of the breath went out of him for a moment before he could pull in any more air. "I don't," he said quietly.
Now she was confused. "What?"
He shook his head slowly. "Nothing. I uhm…Raven, if you wouldn't mind…I-I would rather be alone just now…for a while. You can tell the others I'm awake, but…hold them off for a bit? Please?"
His sister studied him for a long moment and finally nodded. "Okay…" This time she leaned in to let him kiss her cheek, and she squeezed his hand and reluctantly let him be.
When she was gone Charles realized that the room had several cots, and that three of the others were obviously being used. The boys, then-bags and clothes and things strewn across two unmade beds that would belong to Sean and Alex and one bed made as immaculately as the unused cots but with a suitcase sitting on the footlocker at the end that Charles supposed was Hank's.
But he quickly lost any interest in the rest of the room.
Erik?
There was no answer.
Erik…god, Erik…
Charles merely had to close his eyes to see all of it clearly-Erik's blood on his hands and the small, contented smile Erik had given him before he died.
Content just because Charles loved him.
He could still feel Erik's lips pressed to his…the sharp metallic taste of blood mixed with the sweeter tang of sweat and tears.
Erik!
German. He'd been speaking German in his sleep. He couldn't have done it if it hadn't worked. Something of Erik was inside him, somewhere. It was what he'd tried to do. He remembered now, the desperation, how hard he'd tried to pull Erik's mind into his.
It had to have worked on some level. Even if…even if it wasn't all of him.
A small sob shook Charles's chest at the thought that maybe he'd only saved pieces. Memories. Feelings. Not Erik. Not really.
ERIK!
"Please," he sobbed aloud. "Please, please, please…"
And something shifted in his mind. Awakened. Something moved about, felt strange and awkward and wonderful all at once, and Charles shivered and sobbed again when a groggy voice answered him from within.
Charles…?
Charles latched onto the presence like a life-line-found it and tethered it to the surface of his mind so it would never be lost again…created a safe place for it.
Erik! Oh god, Erik, thank god, you're here…
I'm…where? What the hell…what happened? Why can't I move? Why can't I see you where are you? I can hear you. Who the hell is so messy…?
Charles chuckled weakly, realizing that Erik must have had access to his senses but that of course he had no control...and he realized how confusing that probably was. He closed his eyes.
What…? The lights…
He ignored that comment and drew himself into his mind, to the safe place he'd created for the other consciousness that was there. In a moment he'd shifted their perceptions, and they were there. He wasn't sure quite how it was going to turn out, but when he opened his eyes-figuratively, really-it was the library at the house in New York.
Well, it had always been the only room in that house he truly loved, besides maybe his own. He'd spent so much time in here that he supposed it made sense that his mind would translate safe and warm to this.
And Erik was there, blinking at his surroundings and turning in circles as he took in the wood paneling and shelves of books and expensive furniture and huge fireplace.
"What…? Where the hell are we?"
There was no hole in his chest here. No bloodied clothing. Just his usual trousers and black turtleneck. What he was comfortable in. Charles's subconscious mind was creating this place and maintaining it now, drawing from Erik's as well.
Charles swallowed. "It's uhm…the library. In the house Raven and I grew up in. In New York."
"If you have a house with a library like this I don't know that I want to know how big the rest of it is…" Erik trailed. Then shook his head. "No, no, no. We're not in New York. We can't be. Where are we?"
"We're in my mind."
Erik stared at him. "We're…what? How is that possible? I can't remember…wait." He paused and looked away, his expression slowly becoming haunted as it came back to him. Finally his head snapped around, and his gaze fixed on Charles. "Charles, I…I died."
Charles crossed his arms over his chest and nodded wordlessly, gulping back the lump in his throat. And why did it have to seem so real in here, anyway? Sometimes he wished his powers weren't as strong as they were, as versatile. He wished it for different reasons at different times, and just now he wished it because his chest was tight and his throat was beginning to ache, and none of it was real but it felt like it.
"Then how am I here?" Erik questioned urgently. "What did you do?"
"I…I-I-I-"
"Charles, what? What did you do?" he demanded, and there was something akin to horror on his face and it was not the reaction Charles had expected.
"I-I saved you. The only way I could. I didn't know what else to do."
Erik blinked. "So what? I'm just…I'm in your head?"
He nodded again. "I pulled your consciousness into myself."
Erik swallowed now. "Then…when I woke up just now…"
"You were seeing and hearing what I was. Feeling, too, possibly. I'm not sure how far it goes. I-I…I've never done anything like this before. I didn't know if it would work, so I'm not entirely sure how it works, now…" He trailed off helplessly, with no idea what to say after that.
And Erik was upset. He could see it and he could feel it and Charles had come so close to losing him but he hadn't, not quite, and he didn't want to deal with Erik angry at him just now, if that was what was about to happen. He couldn't do that yet.
"Erik…"
"Charles, what the hell were you thinking? I can't stay here. I can't live here! Not forever. I'm dead, for god's sakes!"
"No you're not. You aren't! Your body may be gone but your mind is still here. You are not dead. You're here," Charles insisted.
"But for how long? This can't last, can it? This is only delaying the inevitable!"
"Well what if I wanted to!"
Erik went still, staring at him wide-eyed, and after studying him for a moment Charles realized that it wasn't anger in Erik's eyes. It was pain.
"Charles, I asked you to let me go," he whispered. "It would have been better if you'd let me go."
"I know that!" Charles choked. No I don't. How would it have been better? You would be gone. How is that better? He kept those thoughts to himself."I'm sorry! I panicked!" He wasn't sorry. But he had panicked.
Or…part of him was sorry, now. Erik was in pain, and it was his fault. Erik had thought it was over, but it wasn't. He was still here.
Charles had to convince him that it was a good thing.
It was, wasn't it?
Erik looked at him for a long moment, lost. "I don't understand…why did you…? I don't understand."
He sobbed once. He didn't mean to. "I couldn't lose you."
The look of pain and sympathy Erik gave him then was almost too much. "Charles…it's already over. It was over when the bullet hit me."
Charles shook his head stubbornly, not unlike he had before in Russia. "No! You don't understand. We can figure something out. It doesn't have to be over. You don't have to be…dead…gone…we can do something. We can figure this out. We can."
"Figure what out?"
Charles's eyes closed, and now the shake of his head was more helpless than anything. "I don't know," he moaned. "Erik, please, can we...not do this now? Do we have to do it now? I know this is crazy. I know I acted rashly. But you're here, and I just…please?"
He opened his eyes…watched the tension in Erik's shoulders ever-so-slowly release. The guarded, pained looked faded enough for him to see…whatever it was that was underneath. It wasn't quite clear, and Charles was too shaken to attempt to read anyone just now.
Erik came to him, slowly, and took Charles's shoulders in his hands. Charles looked up at him, bewildered, because he didn't know what was going to happen now.
"I'm sorry," Erik said finally. "You tried to save me and now I'm panicking, and I'm taking it out on you. I shouldn't have done that. I'm not making this any easier for you."
Charles let out a heavy breath. "It's all right…" he trailed weakly. He looked away, but Erik turned his chin back to face him.
"No, it's not. You're upset. Dying is one thing, but watching someone else die is worse."
"Certainly if it's someone you care about," Charles whispered painfully. Erik nodded silently. He didn't have to say anything else, because Charles knew that he knew. He'd watched his mother die. Charles had watched Erik die.
Warm lips pressed to his forehead, and Charles closed his eyes. "I just-I couldn't bear the thought-"
"Do you think I wanted to leave?" Erik whispered. "And…and after you told me what you did? I told you I was all right…I lied."
Charles sobbed again, and this time it came with tears. "Erik…"
Erik pulled him into his arms, held him close, and it was exactly what Charles wanted now. What he needed. His arms came up around Erik's shoulders and his fingers dug in but Erik didn't seem to mind at all.
Of course not. Because this wasn't real.
He buried his face in Erik's shoulder to smother another sob, let the fabric soak up the silent tears and he knew Erik wouldn't mind that either. Not now. He breathed in the scent of Erik's shirt and knew it was only from memory-his subconscious providing the sensation where it was needed to make this illusion complete-but he pushed knowledge of the fact aside and tried to let it soothe him anyway. It worked enough that he felt himself finally relaxing, too.
Once he had Erik pulled back just enough to look at him, to brush his fingers under Charles's chin and turn it up again.
But when he leaned closer Charles let out a small gasp and ducked his head, his face twisting in pain.
"What's wrong?"
He didn't see it, but he knew Erik was frowning, and his thumb still brushed against Charles's chin.
"I'm sorry," Charles cried quietly. "It's my fault. I couldn't protect you. She was a telepath, Erik, and I was stronger than she was! I should have been able to protect you!" He didn't look up. He couldn't look up.
But then his face was being turned up again, by force-not harsh force, just firm, but gentle-and then Erik's other hand was against his cheek, and Erik was shaking his head.
"It's not your fault. It happened. Things happen."
"But…" Could have fought her off sooner. Could have gotten you out of there. Could have MADE you not go into that room and you would have hated me for it but you would be fine…
Erik silenced him with a kiss, warm and soft and not much like Erik at all but somehow all him, and certainly not anything like Russia. But in some way it was what they both needed right now, and when it was done Erik left his forehead against Charles's.
"Shh," Erik scolded. "You're right; we don't need to do this right now."
"I wish we didn't have to do it at all," Charles swallowed.
"I know…"
Erik guided him to the couch by near the fireplace and drew him down onto it next to him, and Charles didn't protest. He didn't say anything, either, when Erik kept his arms tightly around him. Charles pulled his legs up onto the seat beside him and leaned into the touch. They were close enough that Erik could kiss him if he wanted to, and he did, more then once. Sometimes he pressed his lips to Charles's forehead, instead, or into his hair.
But otherwise they sat in silence, in each other's arms, together because they hadn't been before.
Slowly Charles began to sense Erik's emotions again, and he felt…love. He felt so much of it he didn't know how he'd overlooked it before.
But he also felt apprehension, and sorrow, and fear…everything he felt, too.
Where could they to go from here?