Work Text:
Running
They’re running.
Erik can feel his breath running short as his long legs pump beneath him, carrying him through the underground mineshaft. His lungs are burning and his head is pounding to a rhythm he doesn’t quite like, muscles weighing him down with fatigue and unstable like lead. He can feel a sheen of precipitation slide across his neck as he licks his dry lips, dim lights flashing in and out of his vision as they continue to run through the shaft.
Just a little longer, Erik, Charles’ voice echoes reassuringly within his mind, and he can barely spare the energy to turn his head and gaze at the telepath running beside him, breaths escaping his lips in short, shallow gasps.
Erik mutely nods and they keep going, rushing through the rocky corridors. Beside him, Charles is pale and his hair is tousled, falling like a shadow over his eyes. He feels a sharp pang of concern radiate through his chest when he faintly notices the lightest of tremors passing through Charles’ bad leg, and something in his chest aches for a moment.
He can feel Charles in his mind, a calming reassuring presence that’s kept him sane all this time, and as they begin to slow down slightly to a quick-walk, he clings to the presence like a warm comforting embrace.
Just a little longer, he sends back mutely as they reach a turn. Heading towards the right, Erik knows they’re leaving out the right way- he’s certain this is the way they came in, not long now- but it feels like the lights are getting dimmer and the walls are getting closer, not further apart like they should be. He knows it’s his mind playing tricks on him- the fatigue, the restlessness, but he can’t shake the feeling something’s going to go seriously wrong.
“Charles-” they’re rushing when he suddenly stops, turning to his lover quickly. Charles is quick to pause in his motions and divert his entire attention to Erik- “do you hear that?”
There’s a moment of silence when neither of them say a thing, when they’re breathing heavily in corridors that are far too small to be comfortable, and lights too dark to be reassuring-
“I don’t hear anything.” Charles replies, albeit a little uncertainly. Erik knows his friend’s senses are sharp and instinctual, but he also knows that Charles has faith in him when he thinks something’s wrong.
“It’s like a crack, I don’t… Never mind, we should continue. We’re almost there.” Charles sends him a concerned glance from the corner of his eye and he replies with as much calm and assurance as he can muster at the moment, and they continue rushing down.
They’re almost there and out, where everyone else will be waiting for them. It shouldn’t take long for them to make a clean break, in and out without anyone noticing- sneaking through the covert underground CIA base within the mines. The files they’ve retrieved are still clutched tightly in Charles’ slender fingers and they’ve gotten what they came for, all they have to do now is get out.
And they’re almost there, Erik can sense it. He can feel the slightest particles of metal-not wires or cables imbedded into stone walls- just out of his reach, outside of the mine shaft less than a mile away. The thought sends a chill through him however, because he feels like that mile is going to be far more than it seems.
It’s only a few minutes later, when his legs are aching and his lungs feel on fire- does the sound come again- and this time it’s louder, clearer, and Charles’ heard it too.
He curses in German as his friend’s eyes widen.
“Voices.” He can tell the telepath is stretching far, trying to touch the minds he can feel coming nearer- but he also knows Charles is tired, exhausted, and his abilities are just so. Nevertheless his friend tries, and Erik’s heart beats a little faster when Charles’ suddenly freezes- fingers tightening around the files just that much more.
“They’re coming towards us-” They- “Erik, its bad. There’s…” Charles takes a moment with two long fingers pressed against his temple, “maybe fifteen- sixteen of them. Armed. It’s impulsive, unplanned- they might suspect something.”
“Damn it.” He curses softly as they stop and lean against one of the walls to regain their breaths. Erik tries to regulate his breathing while Charles spreads his mind like a net again-
“There’s”, a pause- he’s about to ask what’s wrong because Charles’ has lost a little more colour and Erik’s starting to get worried- “more of them.” Erik bites his tongue angrily, this couldn’t have gone worse, “they don’t know we’re here, but- Erik we have maybe five, ten minutes before they arrive.”
Erik shakes his head to clear his thoughts. It isn’t the best situation but they’ve dealt with worse odds, and he projects to Charles as such.
“I know my friend.” Charles replies, and he can hear the weariness in his tone.
“Can you sense Havok or Hank or Banshee? Raven?” He asks, and hopes to god there’s a yes in there somewhere. Charles takes another breath and puts his fingers to his temple gently again-
“Alex’s coming, so it Raven. Raven’s closer, she’s with the soldiers- they must have seen them enter. They’re getting closer, Erik- but we can’t go back now.”
Erik turns his head back and peers at the darkness behind them, agreeing with Charles entirely. There’s nowhere to hide now, there’d been nowhere to hide behind them, either- not for miles. They couldn’t afford going back in further and risk losing possession of the files.
“Can you freeze them?” Erik asks helplessly because the entire point to this was to avoid the confrontation- the bloodshed. Charles shakes his head with a sigh,
“I don’t know how safe that would be in this state,” he replies wearily, “but I think I can make us invisible- to them, I mean. So long as we don’t make contact with them, they should move right past us.” Erik nods, and turns to look at Charles. They haven’t got much time left.
He looks at the corridor surrounding them, barely three metres in width and wonders how they’re going to avoid making contact with over a dozen armed soldiers. He doesn’t know how they’ll get out of this, but he knows the will. So he stretches his arm and takes Charles’ cold hand in his own, brushing his thumb softly against the pale flesh before nodding.
Charles sends him a smile and he replies with the same, before releasing the hand from his reassuring hold. He takes the files from his lover’s grasp and moves so that he isn’t touching him. Charles needs to have complete concentration right now.
They press themselves tightly against the wall when the sound of footsteps begin to reverberate around the walls. Charles has two fingers at his temple and a determined gleam in his eyes, before he projects to Erik,
“Brace yourself my friend, be prepared to run if need be. We may have to improvise.”
Erik soundlessly nods before projecting back,
“We’ll be fine.” And silently wishes he was as confident as his thought process.
Moments later, there’s an agonising few seconds when the footsteps reach them, and a few more until they can see the soldiers. Erik forces himself not to sigh in relief, because they’re following military precaution and walking in two single files, leaving enough space between them and the wall not to make contact with the mutants.
Erik wants to close his eyes but doesn’t, instead concentrates on slowing his quickening pulse and lowering the sounds of his breathing. The soldiers are walking towards them, and by now- beneath this lightening, they should have seen them.
But Charles, Erik thinks with a swing of gratitude, Charles is making sure they don’t, and soon enough the soldiers are passing by them without a second glance.
There’s a moment when the back of a rifle brushes against Charles’ shoulder as the soldier turns, when Erik is prepared to grab hold of his friend and sprint, when Charles closes his eyes for a moment and doesn’t make a single sound.
And then it’s over, and the soldiers are making their way past them.
When they’re a few turns away, Charles lets out the most inaudible of sighs, relief evident in his tone as he lets go of the illusion. Erik feels himself calming down, and grabs Charles’ hand as they quickly continue on.
“There are more?” He asks, though already knows the answer.
Charles replies wearily,
“Yes, though Raven’s with them and Havoc’s not far behind. There are less this time, maybe nine or ten- besides Raven and Alex. Freezing them shouldn’t be a problem.” Erik nods, feeling a little better, tightening his hold on Charles’ hand as they carefully quicken their pace. Despite how much his friend tries to hide it, Erik can feel the tremors gliding through him, from his leg. He lets his mind wonder for a moment and is rewarded with images, reminders, memories- of Charles lying, bleeding and covered in red on the sand, too many hands pressing on the wound in his leg that wouldn’t stop bleeding-
“Erik,” Charles voice softly rings aloud, and Erik knows he’s been projecting again, “I’m fine, really.”
Erik can’t help but role his eyes, sending,
“Sure Charles.” He’s given a light, warm laugh back, and despite everything, the mine becomes just a little bit lighter.
It’s only a few seconds later does Charles freeze, fingers pressing harshly against his temple. Alarm bells ring in Erik’s head-
“Charles? What’s wrong?” Worry taints his voice as his fingers brush across one slender shoulder,
“Nothing- I’m fine, it’s just they’re so close, I’m just having a little trouble getting my bearing is all. It’s fine. I’m fine.” Erik wants to keep a tally of how many times Charles has said that, how many times he has lied, but holds his tongue.
“Should we stop here?” He asks with a soft voice as they pause, and he can feel the metal inching closer towards him, can feel the molecules and particles shifting and dancing. He knows how many guns there are, how many bullets spinning in those chambers, how many knives they’ve brought. He can tell what kind of watches they’re wearing, the wire’s they’ve got laced to their uniforms, the type of metals on their vests, and he can tell they’re close.
“Here’s good. I should be able to freeze them all once I see them. I recognise Raven, so she’ll be fine, but-” there’s a sharp intake of breath as Charles leans a little heavily on the wall to the side- “once I take over their minds I won’t be able to sense anyone else- just them. I won’t be able to tell if someone’s coming.” Erik nods, understanding.
“That’s fine. Just freeze them, and I’ll look after everything else.”
They wait patiently by the turn as their targets near. Charles informs Erik that he can feel Havoc too, right behind, concealing himself within the shadows as backup. Erik merrily nods, and then the soldiers are turning the corner.
It should have been easy, should have gone as planned. They should have all frozen simultaneously, should have all been unable to move except for Raven and Alex.
Should’ve, would’ve, could’ve. Erik learns that not everything goes to plan.
It’s when they’re about to be frozen does the conflict begin- and Erik thinks he knows exactly what’s happened. They’ve discovered Havoc.
There are shouts and yells and sudden bursts of light which blind him momentarily, and Charles is surprised and a little dazed beside him. He quickly regains his bearings though, once the first soldier notices them and shouts.
The effect is immediate.
From the second they notice Charles and Erik, the soldiers not preoccupied with Havoc turn their attention to them, guns out, and Erik acts on instinct which saves them both.
Their guns have become practically useless with the barrels bent and broken and they let out cries of surprise before launching still. From the corner of his eyes Erik notices Raven- a sparkle of golden orbs-before he’s taking part in hand to hand combat with someone who’s got a knife to his throat.
Charles doesn’t let it last long though, and the effect is quick to take place. The telepath stumbles and regains his footing, and most of the soldiers freeze like they were supposed to.
Most of them.
There are maybe two or three which don’t, and Erik immediately moves to fix that. They stumble past the corner and see Alex dodging a bullet to release energy- and then the shaft begins to shake.
Fire lights up the corners as they’re bathed in golden light, loud and immediate and takes him off-guard. The effect is instantaneous, but Erik chokes one man to unconsciousness with his dog tags before turning around to find Charles slumped against the wall keeping some of the soldiers immobile- and then there’s-
-someone behind him, and Raven’s too far away and Havoc’s getting his power under control and Erik stops another bullet but he’s too late. The files slip from his grasp and he shouts with all that he is,
“Charles!” The yell escapes his lips and the telepath’s eyes widen as he turns to face Erik, features etched with surprise when he sees the knife he won’t be able to stop.
Havoc is too far back and Raven is too far forward and Erik’s concentrating all his ability on stopping one man when the blade swings in a deathly arc towards Charles-
And the long knife sinks all the way into his flesh and between his ribs.
“CHARLES!”
Erik’s heart stops.
There’s a single moment when everything just seems to freeze; when the beat of his heart is loudest over the silence, when the movements of the soldiers around him slowdown in motion, when his breath hitches and his lungs won’t take any more air.
It’s that one, single moment when all he can do it watch with wide eyes as crimson spurts and coats the long dagger; when he strains his ears past the sound of drums and hears the feint hitch which escapes Charles’ throat, when the soldier slides the knife out from his lover’s flesh in a quick, twisted motion which makes Erik feel like retching.
And then the chaos is back and Erik doesn’t waste another moment before spinning that knife around and forcing into the soldier’s neck without another thought.
But then the other soldiers are waking up because there isn’t a hold on them anymore, and there are too many to handle at the moment and Erik can’t concentrate because Charles-
They’re launching, running right at them, and Erik’s making his way to his friend as quick as he can, but it’s too much, he’s too far and-
There’s a crack, and then two, and then he’s looking up from his rush and stones are falling from the ceiling.
It rains in debris and massive rocks come crumbling down to clash with the ground, and there’s barely any space but Charles- Charles is-
The sound is back, of falling bodies and yells and chaos but all Erik can concentrate on is his friend; Charles, as his dress shirt begins to redden darkly, Charles as he stumbles, eyes glazed over, and loses his footing.
Erik didn’t even realise how fast he’d gotten there.
Stones are raining down on them and Erik can feel the splatter of warm blood across his face, but it isn’t his. He’s running and then kneeling over Charles with hands at either side of his head as the rocks come crashing down in a heavy tragic symphony of screams and yells and broken bones.
And he stays there, kneeling above Charles, who’s propped up against the wall, and feels bruises forming and his ribs cracking but he doesn’t move, the only thought in his mind being protect him.
He can’t see past the dust, can’t feel past the numbness in his arms, can’t hear past the ringing in his ears. He tastes the sour of his own blood as he bites his tongue, and can smell the scent of copper so strong he has to push back the bile rising in his throat. But he doesn’t move.
Finally, it takes a while, a short while that couldn’t have lasted minutes but seemed like eternity, and then the rocks have stopped falling, and he’s moving from his position to cough the dust from his lungs and rub it away from his eyes.
And when he collects himself enough to see past the black spots dancing in his vision and the numbness in his fingers, the nightmare starts all over again.
They’re separated from everyone else by a thick wall seemingly immovable rock, piled upon one another firmly. But that doesn’t quite matter.
Because in front of him is Charles. He’s leant against the wall with his head tilted back, hair dark and covered in dust and throwing shadows across his eyes. He’s alarmingly pale in contrast to the filthy rock he’s leaning on, and there are tremors crawling along his arms. His eyes are glazed over with pain and confusion, and Erik can’t see past the trail of blood he’s left across the wall or the red that’s seeping out from his chest.
Erik can’t quite seem to find his voice, and when he tries to speak, it’s hoarse and uncomfortable and his throat aches.
“Charles…” he trails off, and his vocal cords have abandoned him. He turns to the younger man with stiff and shaky movements and reaches towards him with bruised hands and torn fingernails.
There’s another moment when Erik’s finger brush against his cheek, and it’s so cold. His skin feels like ice and Erik’s half a mind to believe his heart has been ripped from his chest when Charles manages to focus his eyes on him.
“Erik?” It’s soft and light and questioning, and seems to drain all his energy from him. Erik nods uselessly, swallowing. He gets a little more stable on his knees and holds Charles’ cheek in one hand, the other trailing towards his abdomen. Charles turns that piercing blue gaze on him and his pale lips part in question, but his voice never seems to catch up to his thoughts, so he projects,
Are you alright?
Erik feels something like bitterness well up in his throat, but he pushes it down and nods silently. His fingers graze against Charles prominent cheekbone a little more, and he feels tremors pass through the cold flesh when his lover tilts his head into his hand.
Erik stays still for a second, leaning beside Charles, before he forces his eyes to look down.
It’s much worse than he’d thought.
There’s a proper gaping hole in Charles’ abdomen, a cut so deep in the flesh he’s sure there must have been an exit to it. The shirt’s torn around it, and Erik can’t tell what colour it is anymore because of the crimson dying it. The fabric is a deep red now, and it sticks to the pale skin beneath it, seeping endless rivets of blood, and Erik feels his breath leave him at the sight. There are traces of muscle tissue and flesh, and there’s an incredible amount of tearing he knows happened when the soldier ripped the blade from Charles’ body.
And there’s far too much blood.
He forces himself not to look back at the wall painted in red, or the puddle which is beginning to spread around Charles, and forces himself to breathe instead.
There’s far, far too much blood.
His hands move on their own accord, because his mind is still trying to comprehend what’s happened. He doesn’t waste a moment longer though, and with heavy limbs and a mind on the verge of panicking, his does what Charles would do.
He becomes logical.
He pushes everything else from his mind; the blood, the screams, the paleness, the knife, the blood, the blood, the blood, there’stoomuchblood-
-and hurriedly rips of his jacket, paying no mind to the buttons which spray through the cave like bullets. He tears of the fabric with shaking hands and says with a voice he’s just gotten back,
“This is going to hurt.” And Charles’ meets his eyes, those beautiful eccentric orbs glazed with pain and understanding, and the telepath nods his head with the slightest movement, stiff and shaky just like Erik had been. Charles’ hands move from where they had lay uselessly at his sides, and with an evidently jarring effort he lifts his fingers to brush them over Erik’s,
“I trust you.”
And then Erik’s folding his jacket up neatly, pressing it against the gaping hole in his lover’s chest, and pretending like the short gasp of agony which escapes those pale lips doesn’t cut him to the bone and tear his heart to pieces.
As soon as the fabric is pressed against the wound, it begins to become soaked in a red Erik pretends not to notice. The telepath’s breathing immediately becomes heavier, louder, like its physically paining him to draw, and his eyes gloss over a little more, head pushed back against the rock wall behind him.
He bites his lip when Erik presses a little tighter, and becomes a little more ash-white. The metal manipulator feels like his throat is constricting, but forces himself to move because he has to help Charles and being slow and unsure and nervous certainly isn’t the way to do it.
He clears his throat and pushes as much reassurance as he can through their bond. Charles, albeit weakly, offers him a shaky smile in return and that’s enough to snap Erik back into it.
He can feel the warm of Charles’ blood against his fingertips when he says,
“Charles, I’m going to need to stay with me, okay? You’ve lost a lot of blood, but Charles, I’m going to take a look around- find a way out. Just stay awake for me okay?” His voice cracks just a little bit and he can’t really help it. Charles doesn’t really seem to mind, breathing out a little and nodding silently, quiet for a moment even though their bond.
“Ok.”
And he weakly lifts his trembling limbs and claws his long, slender fingers into Erik’s jacket, holding it with all the strength he has against his wound. Erik takes another breath before leaning forward in the slightest, ignoring the pain in his knees and blooming across his back, and brushes his chaste lips over his lover’s.
It’s brief and light and not really much of a kiss, but despite everything, he still feels pleasant shivers running across his arms- an affect Charles has never failed to have on him. There’s a tingling sensation and he can feel love and something so much more powerful flowing through their bond- something they’ve been building over so many years, something that’s so precious and wonderful, something he won’t give up.
So despite everything, his heart is a little warmer when he does pull back, and Charles’ eyes are just that much brighter.
It’s seems like it’s over as soon as it’s begun though, because soon he’s removing his hands and ignoring the dried blood caked underneath his fingernails and the scraping of his knees against the rocks.
He stands a little slowly and his legs feel like he hasn’t used them in ages, joints cracking and ribs shifting beneath his flesh. He refuses the pained gasp that fights to his lips, and doesn’t need to run his fingers over his chest to know that some of bones are cracked. He takes a step forth and feels his muscles stretch a little, eyes fluttering for a moment as he forces himself from his stupor,
“Are you okay?”
Erik nods a little, and forces himself to regain his bearings at the sound of Charles’ voice projecting through his head.
“Yes, dear, I’m fine.”
He doesn’t have to strain his ears to hear the weak chuckle, and it fuels him to hurry up.
He looks around and surveys what’s happened exactly. He inches towards the massive wall of rocks piled upon one another and places the flat of his arm across it, applying the slightest of pressure. He frowns when doesn’t feel the slightest shift, and strains his ears a little more to something that’s a little surprising.
He thinks that may be a good thing, because he knows Havoc and Mystique must be on the other side, and it’s a good thing because if something had happened to them, he’d be hearing shouts and soldiers. He raises his voice some,
“Raven? Alex?” He shouts as loud as he can without choking on the dust in his lungs, hoping to hear something in reply. He lets himself think about what’s happened for a moment longer and realises that he and Charles were trapped on the wrong side, the rocks caved in and blocking their way to the exit, and feels something in his chest constrict.
Instead of thinking about this, he called out to their friends again with a voice far more confident than he’d had thought-
There’s a moment, and then two, and then the silence is back, and Erik feels something like worry clawing at his chest, a flurry of endless possibilities invading his thoughts. He’s worried, he is, because this has gone so, so wrong and there’s a possibility Alex and Raven could be in danger or hurt or-
Erik forces himself to stop. His first priority is Charles. The others can handle themselves, they’ll be fine, they have each other. But Charles- a glance back at the telepath from the corner of his eye erases all thoughts of everyone else- Charles needs to get out of here right now, and that is most definitely his first priority.
“Raven…” Charles’ voice is so soft Erik wouldn’t have heard it otherwise- he moves back a little towards his friend, and notices what he’s trying to do.
Charles is trying to lift one weak hand to his temple, trying to connect with his sister or Havoc or both, and Erik immediately rushes forwards and sinks down on both knees, ignoring the flare of pain which runs through him.
“Charles, don’t.” Erik’s worry filters through like a storm, and he doesn’t bother calming himself down. They both know his friend barely has enough energy to keep himself awake as it is, let alone to use his telepathy.
“Erik-” Charles looks at him imploringly, and there’s no way Erik can deny those misted, glossy eyes this, even if the smears of blood Charles’ leaves along his temple send daggers through his chest. He nods, albeit uncertainly, and helps lift Charles’ fingers once they tremble and fall from his hold.
There’s silence for a few seconds, a tense ugly thing, and Erik can feel the warmth and weariness of his lover’s mind brushing against his own as he throws it out like a net in hopes of finding who he’s looking for.
Charles tilts his head back a little, and his eyes slide shut for the slightest of seconds before they’re peeling open again, and the alarmingly dimming blue irises peak out from beneath those long lashes. Erik holds his breath and Charles’ fingers gently against the telepath’s forehead, too weak and tired to keep them stable on his own. He can feel the mental strength pulsing through their bond, he can feel as it twirls in a wonderful melody as Charles searches for the right mind, and he can feel it weaken. He about to tell Charles to stop, because he can see his friend’s cheek losing whatever colour they had to them, can see how his eyes are beginning to droop like they weigh a tone-
“Raven.”
But Charles has already found her.
Erik can tell, by the relief that begins to bounce in brilliant colour and emotion through their bond, by the slight sigh which escapes his lips, the twitch which he’s sure would have been a smile had Charles had the energy. He’s found her, and she’s safe.
It’s another minute or so of silent communication with his sister before Charles gives in and lets his fingers fall, and Erik carefully guides them back to the blood soaked fabric plastered onto his chest, pushing back the mind-numbing alarm at the rate Charles seems to be fading.
“She’s… safe,” the words are pushed through a tight throat in a bout of breathlessness, and Erik refuses the urge to tell Charles to save his energy, “so is Alex. They’ve-” another pause, though he doesn’t think this one is because Charles is declining, “taken care of the soldiers.”
Erik doesn’t ask what that means, and tries to look past the shadows gathering by Charles’ eyes. He knows the plan was no killing, they couldn’t afford to be the monsters, but he knows- once Havoc and Mystique had seen the blade slide between Charles’ ribs, even they wouldn’t keep to his values.
“They’re trying to… find a way out, from the other side- but…” There’s a helplessness to that tone, a helplessness Erik doesn’t like one bit- “it’s going to take time.”
Erik swallows at those words, and pretends like his heart doesn’t clench painfully at the thought. He holds Charles’ hands a little tighter, and does his best not to think about what those words mean.
They’re going to take time, time Charles’ doesn’t have.
“They’ll get us out.” He voices reassuringly, sending as much certainty and comfort as he can manage through the bond. Charles sends him a look and he forces his heart to beat past the uncertainty. “They’ll get us both out, my friend, because I’d never leave without you.”
A year ago, he didn’t think he’d be able to confess such a thing. Two years ago, he would have denied his feelings for all they were and ignored them entirely. Three years ago, he would have been willing to abandon everything for his doomed cause.
Now, it’s only the truth.
And he tells Charles as much, with words and without, and makes sure the telepath feels all the love and care and trust they’ve been building after Cuba, after Shaw, after the bullet. He makes sure Charles knows that knocking on that door again, hearing Charles say I’m glad you’re back, I’ve missed you, I don’t blame you, my friend, was the greatest choice he’d ever made. He makes sure Charles knows that he’d failed him once, on white sand soiled with blood, with a coin and betrayal and a helmet he hasn’t worn in three years, that it would be the last time he’d ever do so whilst he lived.
“I will not leave here without you; do you understand me, Charles?”
There’s a glint in his lover’s eyes, a tear shining blue against those irises, and he thinks Charles should understand now, should understand now more than ever that he’d never let something as uncertain as death part them- not for long anyway.
And Charles does understand, and he nods silently, projecting-
“I understand, my love.”
Erik nods through the lump in his throat and does his best to push his worries back, focusing now only on keeping Charles awake until the wall between them and safety is demolished. His head jerks to the side for a moment, and he knows that even when Charles makes it until the wall is to come down, there’s no telling when the soldiers will.
They’ve been successfully separated from the exit, but it’s a one way tunnel and it’s left them in a dead end against a rush of military agents who could come at any time, guns blazing, and Erik knows he’d be able to keep them at bay, but he doesn’t know how long.
A glance at his bleeding friend and he realises Charles has thought of the same thing, and he’s silently willing their team to hurry up.
He shifts, and realises there’s naught to do but wait. He can feel the metal wires and cables through the rock walls, can sense each and every thrum of electricity as if it were his own. He knows where each is, knows how long, how wide, how powerful, and he thinks that maybe he could do something to make it easier for Hank and Raven and Havoc and Banshee, but dismisses the thought almost immediately. He can’t risk it, won’t risk moving something too forcefully or something he shouldn’t and bringing the cave down faster on them. He refuses to risk Charles’ life like that, especially when the situation is already so precarious.
So when he hears something, on the other side, both bonded minds perk up and strain to listen- and the relief is palpable when they hear-
“Professor? Erik?” It’s Hank’s deep voice, and Erik’s never been more thankful for it.
“Hank,” Charles calls out weakly, but Erik knows Beast can hear him, “are you and the others alright?”
There’s some more shuffling on the other side, and Erik holds his breath.
“Yeah- Professor, we’re all good, but you and Erik-” Banshee.
Erik answers before Charles can find his voice again,
“Charles is hurt, it’s serious. He’s losing a lot of blood, so hurry up.” Charles looks at him with those eyes again, and Erik notices him becoming weaker with every passing moment.
There’s determination in Hank’s voice when he answers,
“Yes- of course, but Erik, Professor- you’re going to have to hang on. We’ll get you out.” He shouts back, and Erik takes a breath, nodding even though Hank can’t see him. He turns his gaze back to Charles, and his jacket which has now become almost completely soaked in red.
“Just be quick about it.”
There’s more movement before the sound of shifting rocks becomes obvious. Erik knows this may not be the fastest way to do it, but it’s the safest. And with Charles like this, none of them will risk anything more.
“Erik…” He snaps back to reality when he hears his name called softly, too softly for anyone besides him to hear, and he doesn’t know if the telepath did it purposely or he’s running out of energy- “I love you.”
He’s taken aback, but regains control of himself before too long, shaking his head.
“Stop talking like you’re not going to get out of this Charles, I told you I’m not leaving you behind.” Again, it goes unsaid, but it’s obvious Charles has heard it. “Just stay awake, okay? I’m going to help them from this side and you’re going to try and stem the bleeding a little bit more.” He glances down at the crimson and tastes sour in his mouth, “We’ll get out of this Charles, you and I, together.”
There’s an uncertainty wavering through their precious bond and Erik hates it, so he does his best to overwhelm it with his own will and determination. He won’t have Charles giving up on him now, not when they’ve come so far.
So he presses Charles’ hands a little more firmly against the wound and tries his best to ignore the gasp which escapes those lips. His hands are cold, colder than before and Erik can still feel the warmth of fresh blood along the material, although there’s considerably less than before. He doesn’t focus on that however, and leans forth with dry lips to press a kiss against the younger man’s temple, letting his own warmth thaw the ice on Charles’ skin.
And then he’s moving away and standing up, his bruised muscles and cracked bones not the only things weighing him down, urging him to just embrace his love for a while longer. But he can’t, and he doesn’t, because Charles needs him right now and they can do much more than just embrace once they’re safe and sound at home in the warmth and comfort of the mansion with nothing but bed sheets to separate them.
So he stands, ignores the pain, and shuffles towards the rocks.
The minutes tick by, and he begins by moving the smallest stones, the ones with the least risk. For the first few minutes, he holds his breath and does everything with the utmost care, and as the time begins to flow, be becomes more certain- more knowledgeable, knows where the weakest parts are, which parts are at the highest risk of falling, and he feels like he’s getting somewhere.
Charles is silent the entire time, but he’s a solid if not weary constant presence in Erik’s mind, and Erik keeps him awake, by projecting thoughts of a buzzing worry he can’t contain. He lets out a cough or a particularly harsh breath once in a while, and every time it takes all that’s in Erik not to let his chest seize in panic.
The other side doesn’t make conversation either, concentrating entirely on their task with Raven or Banshee asking if everything’s alright every few minutes. His ribs are shifting and this can’t be good for them, and he can feel bruises forming everywhere, cuts marring his arms and legs through the tears in his clothes. His limbs feel heavier and heavier by the second and his vision’s a little blurred, but he doesn’t tell them that. Instead, he tells them Charles is awake but he’s running out of time, so please, hurry.
He knows they’re really running out of time from both ends though, with the soldiers reaching them and Charles, when his friend begins to cough again.
It starts out in small and light wheezes- before becoming louder, harsher, like Charles can’t get a breath in, and immediately grabs his attention. He turns, and drops the rocks from whatever effort he’d put in, instantaneously moving by his friend’s side. He can faintly hear someone- Alex?- asking something, but drowns it out. He moves to kneel by Charles side when the coughing becomes worse and looks like every breath it rattling his lungs, so he leans his bruised knees against the ground and places a hand on Charles’ shoulder and another gently tapping along his back.
When it subsides, and Erik’s heart beats again, he notices the blood dying Charles’ lips.
He freezes, and this time, he can’t stop the shiver climbing along his back.
When Charles’ leans back again, his lips are dyed in a crimson that slides in a thin trail down his chin. Erik holds his breath whilst Charles regains his, and his voice is tight and there’s the most noticeable touch of fear setting in,
“Hurry.”
“Erik…”
He’s looking at Charles with crimson contrasting evidently against those pale lips, notices the ash of his skin, the dimness of his eyes, the shallowness of his breathing. His hands have slipped from his chest and lay limply by his sides, and the stream of blood collecting around him is enough to soak Erik’s trousers at the knee.
When he meets those knowing eyes, listens to that fading voice, he knows too.
“No.” His voice is firm and only shakes a little. “No Charles, not now- they’re almost here, Charles, please.”
But Charles only looks at him for a moment before the saddest smile crosses his lips, a sheen of crystal collecting by his eyelashes.
“I’m sorry my friend.”
His chest begins is seized by panic and Erik can only do so much to stop his voice from shaking.
“No- no, Charles- you don’t get to do this, not you.”
Charles can’t, he can’t leave Erik, not now, not when they’ve built something so beautiful. No, no, nononono-
“Charles, please, just a little longer-” there’s desperation in his tone, there’s helplessness and pain and so much desperation because Charles can’t do this, not Charles-
“I love you.” A tear cascades down one pale cheek and Erik moves to stop it, his thumb catching it against the frozen skin, “Erik, I love you.”
And then Erik can feel his own tears forming and his hearts breaking a little more because this is Charles’ goodbye, but this can’t be his goodbye, not now, “Charles, please, my friend, please-” he feels like he had with Shaw, with his mother, when something so pure and precious was ripped from his grasp, and doesn’t Charles realise what this is doing to him? “Charles-”
Charles’ lips taste sweet and bitter against his own, the kiss soiled by fear and desperation and blood and tears, and Erik can feel his pain his sadness, his breaking heart and he’s fraying at the seams and crumbling with his love because this wasn’t supposed to happen, not this, never this, never Charles-
“Charles, I love you too-” there’s a weight on his chest and it’s getting heavier and heavier and it’s threatening to crush him- “just stay awake, a little while longer-”
“Erik-”
He stops fighting, stop fighting the pain and anger and desperation, lets it consume him because this is one part of his life he won’t lose, one part of himself he’s can’t afford to.
“I won’t let them take you away!” There’s an anger that wasn’t there before, and it’s fuelled by his constricting heart, “I won’t let them have you, Charles.
“I can’t let you go.”
But Charles, with his blood soiled lips and the light fading from his eyes, Charles just shakes his head and there’s another tear gliding down and Erik can’t do much more than hold his face in his hands and-
“I can’t live without you.”
“My friend, you have so much more to live for-”
“I have nothing to live for without you!”
“Your cause, your life-”
Another moment and he waits, his eyes are widening and his skin is moist with tears that are and aren’t his own, pieces of his heart shattering around him in a tragic melody-
“Don’t you get it Charles?” He says, his voice barely a whisper, lips brushing against his love’s. “After all this time, Charles, don’t you get it?”
“There is no life without you.”
He won’t let Charles leave, not without him. Charles has his heart, Charles is his heart, and he knows it’s taken him forever and longer to realise it but the man in his arms, the dying man who’s blood’s under his fingernails, who’s heart’s too big for his chest,
“There is no me without you, Charles.”
So when Charles lets his eyes slip closed, Erik already feels dead.
So he lets go.
Because there’s too much of Charles’ blood on the floor, there’d been too much life in his once, and he holds too much of Erik’s heart and soul and everything for him to live without.
So he lets go, because if Charles isn’t going to live than he isn’t either, and once, that scared him, frightened him to the point where’d he’d packed his bags more times than he could count. And every time he came back and every time he gave Charles a little more of himself, and Charles gave himself a little more to him. So he lets go, because he isn’t afraid anymore. He’s in love, and Charles is all there is, all there will ever be for him.
So in a final attempt of something, he feels for the metal wiring and cables bussing with life within the walls, grabs hold onto them, and lets go.
There are yells and shouts and the stone wall is crumbling, but so is the ceiling, and the walls, but Charles is still in his arms, and that’s all that matters.
There’s a flash of something bright, and then there’s darkness.
And together they fall.
Together, they stop running.