White noise.
White noise and an overwhelming sense of worry. That was all Charles could register as the washcloth lay limp in his hands, Erik's blood staining his fingers.
"What?" His voice was quiet, distant, as if any answer Erik could give would shatter him to pieces that couldn't be put back together again.
"Frost knows." His grip on Charles' wrist had yet to loosen. "She knows – she – said something about 'offspring' and at the time, I thought nothing of it, but God, Charles… She... It has to mean Danny. I'm - I'm so sorry."
The apology seemed to have wakened something in the telepath and he shook his head as Erik released his wrist. "You have nothing to apologize for. You didn't tell them."
"But – "
"Erik. It was bound to happen sooner or later. Had you found out about Danny before all of this," he gestured vaguely around the room, "would you have said anything?"
The metal-bender was quiet for a moment before answering with conviction, "No."
"Then stop looking at me like I'm about to banish you from the premises. You'd never use my child as leverage; it's not your fault that your associates would. Now arms up."
The crease on Erik's forehead eased and he groaned as Charles lifted the shirt over his head.
"Christ," escaped telepath's mouth as he saw the other man's wounds properly for the first time. A deep gash ran from mid-abdomen, following the line of his ribs, to just under his shoulder blade, as purple bruises blossomed around the cut like a sickly flower. "They did a number on you, my friend," he murmured as he gently traced the gash with the pad of his finger.
"Azazel has a wicked tail, unfortunately," Erik gritted out as Charles felt his ribs.
"At least two are broken, possibly more. I'd need an x-ray to be sure. And you're going to need stitches."
Erik cursed under his breath.
"Did you honestly think it would go well?" Charles leaned back and wiped his hands on the washcloth. "That they'd be completely okay with you coming h – here?" Home had been so close to leaving his lips instead.
"I had hoped," Erik replied wryly.
"Hope can be such a pointless endeavor," Charles whispered as he thought of countless nights spent praying to any god listening that Erik would come back. And every fruitless morning that followed.
"Don't say that, Charles." Erik's sharp reprimand brought him out of his musings. "Don't say that."
"Why not?"
He closed his eyes and shook his head. "Because if you lose hope, then what's left for the rest of us?"
Charles swallowed hard, finding it difficult to meet Erik's eye. "Let's get you stitched up, then, shall we?"
Erik levitated the needle from the first aid kit. "I'm not sure how I feel about you sewing me back together."
Something tightened in the telepath's chest. "I've put you back together more times than I care to count."
YOU ARE READING
Rumor Has It - CHERIK
Lãng mạn"Did I hear the doorbell earlier?" "Yeah, but I'd steer clear if I were you. It seemed a little tense. I don't know what's going on, but there's a kid out there who looks freakily like the prof." Nearly six months after Cuba, Charles' life is turned...
