Come Home (Cherik fanfiction)

Chapter One

Charles

'I'm coming back for you. I'm not giving up until you are by my side. I'm coming back and you will come with me. Whether you like it or not.'

Charles Xavier woke up slowly, lifting his head enough to catch a glimpse at the fading sunlight.

It was going to rain today. He knew that. Hank had told him to plan on a day inside a few days ago and he had stocked up on books accordingly in his study. (He also had a hankering stack of bills and odd paperwork he could work on, but he didn't even want to mention it.)

It still came as a shock as he blinked awake.

Charles used to always go up to the observatory on days like this, curl up in the old swinging chair and read book. A cup of tea possibly sitting on the coffee table with steam crawling off the top. Sometimes, Raven would even come in and have him read to her. Usually British literature period pieces. (Jane Eyre was her favorite book.)

He could still do that . . . But it wouldn't be the same.

First of all, he wouldn't be able to feel the cold nipping at his legs, which would cause him to get the large, beige, fleece blanket (which sat in a closet down the hall from the library). It smelled like parchment and musk and that's why Charles loved it so much. It was the only other thing in the mansion -- besides his library -- that didn't smell like dust and mildew.

Secondly, it wouldn't be the same because . . . No. He wouldn't think about the second reason. It was stupid and illogical, compared to everything else.

He sighed. He would go today. He would do it because it wasn't healthy for him to sit in the library all day, or lay in his bed and be waited on. He would go because it had been five months and he needed to start doing well on the terms of being a functional human being.

He would go because he wanted to, and that was final.

He pulled himself up with the lever Hank had designed. His bed was modified by the boys so he could raise and decline it at will, but he thought he should try exercising a bit today.

His injury allowed him to feel everything above the tops of his thighs. It was an odd injury, but it was his. He could sit up by himself, and acquired a decent core through his only means of moving. He could turn and twist his upper body all he wanted . . . he just couldn't get his legs to work.

After a moment of catching his breath, he somehow made it into his wheelchair. He had done this yesterday and the day before and the day before all by himself, but it didn't cease to amaze him what he could do. Usually he needed Hank's assistants, but he had gotten tried of relying on the boys so much and had learned to do some remedial things such as this all by himself.

They needed to live their own lives.

He had encouraged them to leave after they had gotten back. After the accident, they had nursed him back to a reasonable state. He had fervently refused help at first. Not because he wanted to prove something, but because they were young.

They needed to start preparing for their future.

He had told each of them that they could go to Erik. That he wouldn't have been mad or hurt. That if that's what they wanted -- that future -- he wouldn't deny them.

They didn't bite.

They were, actually, somewhat angry at him for suggesting it.

Alex had spoken for the three of them by saying, "Personally, Professor, if we had wanted to go it, we would have done it long before Erik went AWOL. And besides, you saved us. You gave us a home and people to love. Let us do this for you."

Which had been surprisingly sentimental for Alex, but it had brought a blush to Charles's cheeks none-the-less.

But, as much as he needed the help and as much as he loved having them around, he didn't want them to waste their futures based off of gratitude.

Other things were discussed, but with the medication he had been under, he had a hard time remembering.

He still had the wheelchair the hospital gave him. Hank was working on an electrical, more advanced one, but for right now, Charles preferred the manual. It helped him get used to his surroundings and it built him a good set of upper arms.

He started wheeling in the hallway. He should have gotten some clothes on -- real clothes, besides the sweater he had fallen asleep in and the plaid pajama pants -- but he almost felt like that would have ruined it. (Before, he would have just worn his pajamas.)

He felt Alex's mind before he was in line of sight.

"Professor!" He hissed, nearly sprinting towards Charles. "What are you doing out of bed?" He asked him incredulously.

Charles smiled innocently. "I'm going up to the observatory, over the green house." He said simply. "Walk with me if you'd like." The unsaid: 'Not for me.' Was louldly heard, judging by Alex's face.

Alex looked forward with indecision. He wasn't sure if he should urge the professor back into bed or if he should go with him.

Alex, too, loved the rain.

There pleasant memories he had lost about sitting peacefully by a window or on the stairs of his old home, watching the rain fall in a steady downpour. It, too, had clamed his nerves as a child when he got upset or angry. (Of course, worse things happened when Alex got angry compared to Charles.)

It was a common thing they shared: the rain.

"If I go with you, you can't tell hank." He wagered softly, getting behind the chair and pushing it down the hall. Charles growled. "He'll have my head if he finds out I didn't stop you, or at least tried to help you."

Charles wanted to argue. He felt so out of control when someone else was maneuvering the chair. Not that he didn't trust Alex, but it was the idea that someone could control where he was going . . .

When they got to the end of the hall, Charles stopped him by putting up a hand.

"I need to grab something." But when he reached forward to pull open the door, Alex's heated hand stopped him. "Alex-"

"Just tell me what you need. It'll be less for me to get snapped at for later."

And Charles couldn't argue with that.

Hank had become quite the doctor for Charles, and he was little but overbearing to Charles. Not that Charles wasn't grateful, but he was a grown man! He knew what he could and could not handle.

Still, though, he knew it made them all feel better when they could do things for him. They felt terribly awful about The Beach and the fact that they didn't step in in time (even though the logical part in all of them knew there could have been no way to know that that was going to happen.)

Charles sighed, silently giving in. "Just the old blanket. The beige one."

Alex did and sat it in Charles lap.

They continued on without talking until they got the observatory.