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The flight from Paris to the port city nearest Genosha had been long, the boat ride to the island not much shorter, and Charles was tired and cross when they finally debarked.
Too weary to truly appreciate the lush beauty of the place. All he wanted was a nightcap and a bed. No, scratch that, the whisky was optional.
The dirt path through the thick foliage was wide and smooth, almost as if it had been designed with him in mind, but as he came into the clear and saw the compound, with so many of the little more than shipping containers up on stilts, his heart sank. "I don't suppose you live in one," one of a very few, "that's ground-level."
Erik shook his head and pointed at one of the containers, looking apologetic. "It floods a lot here, so elevating everything is necessary. I was rather hoping to get your input as to the best ways to make things accessible for you."
Charles appreciated the thought, but he still would have liked at least one g-ddamned ramp. He sighed. "Until you can build some permanent ramps, build me a set of these."
He projected an image of the portable ramps he had used in Westchester, simple u-shaped metal struts, light but strong, about six inches wide and adjustable in length. "Portable ramps."
Erik nodded. "Shall I make them now?"
Charles knew it would take but a few minutes, but he just wanted to get inside. "Later. I can manage for now. I just want to get inside and lie down."
"Do you want me to--" Erik gestured with one hand, and Charles felt his chair lift slightly.
"No." He could feel the curious minds that were gathering to see the newcomer, and he had a point to make. He could manage perfectly well on his own. If he needed help, he would ask.
Erik nodded, his mind radiating understanding, and he released his hold on the metal of Charles' chair.
Charles wheeled up to the steps, coming in at about a forty-five-degree angle, getting close as he could then locking his brakes. He lifted his feet off the footplate and set them on the ground, then he leaned forward, ignoring the screeching in his mid-back that reminded him he wasn't in his thirties -- or forties -- anymore, and planted his right fist on the second step. He braced his left hand against the front corner of the chair's frame, took a breath, then levered himself up and around so his arse plopped down beside his fist.
Erik was watching him intently, but with that seemingly ever-present undercurrent of guilt. He sighed, exasperated. "Really, Erik? I forgave you almost two decades ago. Forgive yourself."
"I've tried."
"Try harder." Charles returned his focus to the task at hand, pulling his feet onto the first step then hitching his arse up onto the next step. He pulled his feet up again, then leaned forward, unlocked his brakes, rotated the chair so the back faced the steps, and dragged it up beside him, locking the near-side brake to help hold it in place.
He took a moment -- damn, he really was getting old -- then hitched his arse up the last two steps onto the little landing in front of the door and pulled the chair up beside him, positioning it perpendicular to the steps and locking the other brake. He hauled himself backward until his arse was roughly in line with the back wheel, propped his legs so his feet were flat on the wooden landing, wrapped his left hand around the far corner of the chair's frame, set his right fist on the wood, and heaved himself upward.
He landed squarely on the seat and needed to reposition himself only a little. He set his feet on the footplate, then brushed dust from his hands. There was probably dust all over his arse, but so be it. He was up the steps.
He looked down at Erik as he unlocked his brakes. "Get up here and show me in."
Erik ascended the steps and led the way inside, flipping on the lights with his powers.
The place was simply furnished but key details jumped out at Charles. Widely-spaced furniture. An abundance of low shelves. Kitchen counters low enough that they had to be murder on Erik's back.
He stared in silence for long moments, taking it all in. His voice, when he found it, was hoarse with emotion. "Did you remodel all of this for me?"
Erik's cheeks reddened and he smiled softly as he said, "Actually, I built it for you. I always had hope that you would join me here."
"You're a romantic fool."
"Yeah, but I'm your romantic fool."
"So get down here and kiss me already."
Erik did just that, then, romantic fool that he was, he swept Charles into his arms and carried him off to bed.
No one saw them again until morning.