(Untitled)

[groovy_mutation]

Characters: Charles Xavier & Erik Lehnsherr
When: Sometime after the event has ended.
Where: The abode of Charles, Erik and the X-Babies.
What: Erik having a difficult time handling things and needing some comfort.
Open or Closed?: Closed
Rating/Warnings: PG-13, bad memories and thoughts possible.

Comments

[token_vengeance]

He couldn't sleep. Every time Erik closed his eyes in the darkness, he saw the young girl he had never been able to save, felt the throbbing of his wrist, and the sicking sense that he had nearly died. Because he hadn't found the solution fast enough. Rukia was fine, now--but not from his own work. There had been teamwork, yes--but he couldn't help but feel if he had been better, stronger, faster...he could have extricated them from the cuffs earlier.

But he hadn't. And if Shaw had been there, Rukia would have lost her hand. A point in failure. Always that.

Getting out of bed, he changed the bandages on his wrist again (torn and huen, a bleeding mess), before slowly moving out of his bedroom toward Charles's.

He had no right to knock; no right to wake him.

But he found that he needed something, right now. Erik just wanted something small--to eek some comfort out of someone who might give it.

Letting out a breath, and adjusting his pajama bottoms (the only thing he wore), he knocked on the door, before peaking his head in."...

[groovy_mutation]

The knock doesn't wake him, his name being called into the dark of his room stirs him. Partially awake it's the guilt that has him fully coming to. Erik's guilt is heavy and he finds it difficult to feel it as he rolls over, rubbing sleepy eyes to peer towards his door in the dark.

"Mm? ... Erik? What is it? Something the matter?"

[token_vengeance]

"...I can't sleep."

Even as it leaves his lips, Erik realizes how stupid it sounds. Like some child, coming to their mother for comfort. Letting out a sigh, he still enters the room, running a hand through his hair. The door closes behind him, and still he's moving forward, edging to the bed.

"Just--"

He looked down, shaking his head.

"--I just don't want to be alone."

Such a simple thing. Such a hard thing to voice.

[groovy_mutation]

Charles will slowly sit up as Erik makes his way over, as he seems to struggle with simple words to express himself. What he wants, needs. Tugging at the flannel nightshirt he's wearing, fixing it really a bit crooked from moving around in bed, he'll then reach out to rest a hand on Erik's cheek, thumb gentle as it strokes it.

"You're not alone, Erik."

A tired smile, warm, understanding. And his hands will linger, before dropping and he'll scoot back a bit, making room on the bed for Erik to join him. Laying down and making himself comfortable he'll look up at his friend, expectant for him to do the same.