Fate decides who comes into your life; your heart decides who stays.
"𝑊ℎ𝑒𝑛 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑤𝑖𝑛 𝑜𝑟 𝑙𝑜𝑠𝑒 𝑖𝑛 𝑙𝑖𝑓𝑒, 𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑟𝑒 𝑖𝑠 𝑎𝑛 𝑎𝑓𝑡𝑒𝑟. 𝐼𝑛 𝑐ℎ𝑒𝑠𝑠, 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑗𝑢𝑠𝑡 𝑝𝑎𝑐𝑘 𝑢𝑝 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑏𝑜𝑎𝑟𝑑."
[X-Men: First Class - X-Men Apo...
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Warning: Talk of self-sacrifice
Ria hasn't come out even as night falls outside the plane. Erik can't help but wonder whether she is still shaking; he doesn't think he's ever seen her on a plane without trembling in fear though she tries to hide it. That first time on their way to Cuba, he was so worried about Schmidt and his own plans, but having Ria beside him served as a beneficial distraction. The power she gave him was undeniably pure and explosive, but he wielded it like a blade instead of a bomb.
He was left with many questions about Ria after that day that have plagued him for a decade. Why was she so ready to help him kill his creator? What was that creature she called out for that emerged from the sea? Why would she be so terrified of such an amazing power? And why would she devote herself to a people who will never accept her?
To be fair, he knows the answer to the last one. She still has hope while he has nothing.
He finds himself glancing at that silent bathroom door every once in a while, gathering the courage to go in. It took him too long to realize she was hurt when she arrived on the plane, but he can only guess she's trying to fix whatever wounds she sustained. He thought the extra metal he sensed on her body may have been piercings because of how small it felt, but he believes differently now. Piercings are small but so are bullets, and bullet wounds can leave flecks of blood all over the plane, especially when it had tilted in his anger, dragging poor Ria all over the place.
As the first few stars begin to shine, Erik stands and takes out a first aid kit from the nearest cabinet (he could sense the needles) and heads back. Logan sends him a look but does not interfere when Erik knocks on the door.
"Go away," Ria's voice comes out muffled by the door.
"I have the first aid kit," he says, raising his brows when she hesitates.
"Why would I need a first aid kit?"
"Just let me help you."
After a moment, the door unlocks and opens. Erik quickly steps in, his eyes taking in the relatively small bathroom; Ria sits atop the counter with her back pressed to the mirror and her large dark sweater covering her torso, bloody towels resting by her side as she holds what Erik can only describe as a crowbar crudely made of her own emerald crystal. Closing the door, he pushes the towels away and puts down the first aid kit before waiting.
Her eyes remain locked on the tool in her hand.
"Where's the wound, Ria?"
"My shoulder."
That explains the hooked instrument of torture she created. "Alright, can I see it?"
She winces as she shrugs. "It's a bit difficult at the moment."
