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He stared into eyes the color of the Cuban sky overhead, eyes now hazed with pain and the bitterness of loss. Yet the one thing Erik didn't see reflected in those cerulean orbs was the hatred he so richly deserved.
He'd allowed his own hatred to blind himself, had turned away from the purest gift he'd been granted in the years since his mother's death. He'd turned away from Charles, had been on the verge of walking away entirely, had been prepared to leave him bleeding on the beach, all because he could see no path beyond the one forged by his rage.
Seeing Moira cradling Charles' head in her lap, knowing she knelt where he belonged, had finally kindled in Erik the recognition of what he was about to throw away.
So he had stopped. Had returned to Charles' side as the younger man had stammered out the words that had brought a cold chill to Erik's gut: I can't feel my legs.
Those words had changed everything. Nothing beyond getting Charles safely off the beach and to a hospital mattered anymore.
Not that it was easy. Shaw's followers had taken advantage of the confusion after Charles had gone down and had fled. No great loss, but they really could have used the teleporter.
Instead, Hank had directed Erik in using metal from the plane to make a frame to immobilize Charles, and they had all made their escape just ahead of the men sent to detain them.
That had led directly to their presence here, in this little shack outside Havana, waiting for nightfall and the smuggler who would get them off the island.
Hank hovered nearby, monitoring Charles' condition carefully. The delay was far from ideal, but Hank had gotten the bleeding stopped, and Charles was stable as was possible. They'd gotten him this far; they'd get him home.
“A penny for your thoughts.” Charles' voice was a little hoarse, a little weak.
“Just thinking what an idiot I am.” True, but quite incomplete.
Charles allowed the omission. “This just occurred to you?” Even wounded and in pain, Charles was trying to make him smile.
And he did smile as he brushed a bit of sand from Charles' cheek. “I've known for a while.”
Charles smiled back, a little shakily. “How long before nightfall?”
“Maybe three hours before we dare to move.”
“Before you dare to move me, you mean.”
“Yes.” Erik tried for a reassuring smile, was pretty sure he failed miserably. “How are you holding up?”
“The painkillers you got me are helping, but my back still feels like someone set it on fire.”
“And your legs?”
Charles shook his head. “Still nothing.” His hand skimmed down his side, between the slats of the metal frame, coming to rest about midway between the bottom of his ribs and the crest of his hip. “Nothing past here.”
Erik covered Charles' hand with his own. They both knew the likelihood that the injury was permanent. “I'm sorry, Charles.”
“You shouldn't blame yourself.”
“Even though it was my fault?”
“You were defending yourself. You didn't mean to hurt me.”
“Never.”
Charles smiled softly. “That's what matters.”
Erik knew Hank was there, doubtless still monitoring Charles' condition, hearing their every word they said, but he no longer cared. He'd almost lost Charles; he wasn't going to hide anymore, especially around the ragtag family they seemed to have acquired. “Whatever happens, I'm not going anywhere.”
He got to his knees then bent to kiss Charles, little more than a brush of lips, chaste and full of promise.
Unthinkingly, Charles tried to lean up into the kiss, was brought up short by the metal bamd across his chest, and slumped back with a soft, sharp cry.
Erik sank back on his heels, trying not to show the fear ricocheting along his nerves. Ridiculous, he realized. Charles was a telepath who could read his surface thoughts more easily than the expression on his face.
Not quite, love. Erik heard the affection that warred with the pain.
“Charles? Are you all right?” Hank came forward, concern clear on his furry face.
“I'm fine, Hank, relatively speaking. I just shouldn't have tried to move.”
“Do you need more painkillers? It's about time.” Hank pulled the pill vial from a pocket, opened it with surprising dexterity given his long claws.
Charles accepted the pills, and Erik supported his head as Hank held a tin cup to his lips. Hank caught Erik's eye and said, “If you need me, I'll be outside. I think the two of you would like a few minutes alone.” There was no revulsion in his voice, just resignation.
“Thank you, Hank,” Charles murmured.
Once Hank was gone, Charles patted the space beside him. “Lie down beside me.”
“I don't want to hurt you.”
“I don't think you could.” Charles tapped the frame that held his body rigid. “And I suspect the damage has already been done.”
Automatically, Erik opened his mouth to apologize.
“Don't.” Charles stopped him, his voice firm, but after a moment he spoke again, his voice now starting to shake. “Please.”
Erik nodded, gingerly took his place on the pallet -- little more than a layering of blankets and straw. He placed his hand on Charles' shoulder, aching to take the younger man into his arms. “How's this?”
"Good." He could still hear the tremors in Charles' voice.
After a moment, Charles spoke again. “Hold me. Please. I need to feel you.”
Erik eased onto his side, wrapped his arm around Charles' shoulders, pressed his body gently to Charles' side
“I can't feel you,” Charles whispered, and Erik could hear the fear Charles had been holding at bay finally overwhelm him. “I can't feel anything.”
“I know.” Erik looked down at Charles' leg against his own, numb, motionless, held stiff by the metal frame. Tried not to remember those legs wrapped around his hips just the night before, those legs pinning him against the study wall, those legs driving his cock into Erik alongside a desert highway in the rain.
Tried. And failed. He knew Charles sensed his thoughts, and the younger man grew very quiet. I'd understand if you wanted to leave, Charles thought sadly. You didn't sign up for this.
I've made my decision.
You know I'll probably never do any of that again.
Erik knew. I'm still not going anywhere. I love you. Words he'd never believed he'd utter.
I love you, too. Charles pressed a kiss to the top of his head. But I'm scared, he admitted.
You'd be a fool if you weren't. And you're no fool, at least in that regard.
Thank you for that.
Seriously, if anyone can get through this, you can. And you're not alone. Charles, you're not alone.
The words I said the night we met. The painkillers were starting to work now; Charles thoughts were growing fuzzy.
Yes. He gave Charles a gentle hug. Rest for a while. We'll be leaving soon.
Erik listened as Charles' breathing evened, the medication easing him into sleep. And he stayed at Charles' side until Hank returned with Raven, announcing it was time to move out.
The three of them lifted Charles carefully and carried him outside. He stirred and moaned but never came to full consciousness.
A light rain was falling, harbinger of another storm. Erik stared into the breeze-blown droplets and a chill ran through him. They had dodged the full onslaught of the storm this time, but Erik knew there was still a hurricane brewing. He just hoped this ragtag little band could continue to stand strong.
He himself didn't have much hope. But he'd fallen in love with an optimist.