Come Home (Cherik fanfiction)

Chapter Twenty-One

So . . . Hi. Things have been really rough lately, but I'm working on it. I'm working on that new fanfic that I told you guys about and it's coing along.

Just out of curiousity: Who watches Scandal?

Anyways, so yeah. I've been gettin some MAJOR Cherik feels lately, and I read this fic Stolen on Ao3 recently that sent me through the roof. It's a Hades/Persephone take on Cherik and it's awesome. I think you guys would like it.

So here it goes. Cross your fingers:

(PS: Love you guys, by the way. REACHED 8,000-something reads and moral of the story is that I will no longer be checking my wattpad notifications in the middle of class.)

Erik

"Are you sure you can wake him up?"

"I'm trying."

"What do you mean you're trying, Emma. Either you can do this or you can't."

Scowl. "Hey, if you want try this yourself, be my guest. But if you would like to, just for a moment, respect the fact that I am not God, I would be much obliged, darling."

Erik pursed his lips. "Just do something." He crossed his arms tight over his chest, but stayed in his corner, letting the telepath do her work.

Emma sat at the head of Charles's bed with her hands on his temples. They'd been like that for about fifteen minutes now and Erik was absolutely twitching. There was no sound, no movement, no nothing on Charles's part and Emma wasn't speaking to him either.

"He's--" Emma started, narrowing her eyes at Charles's hairline. "He's being stubborn."

It was just the three of them in the room. Raven wanted to come -- to see her brother awake and well -- however, Emma was able to dissuade her with the theory that it might be too many minds and emotions for Charles to handle right off the bat. Hank wanted to be there as well to monitor his vitals throughout this process, but Emma again proved useful in this negotiation: She was darling to triage and could patch him up until Hank could get there.

So it was just them, so far. Only two-thirds of them actually awake and kicking.

"What do you mean he's being 'stubborn'?" Erik asked, leaning against the wall. With all that he was feeling, he only figured it right that he stand back and let the pros at it.

Emma raised an eyebrow and passed a glance to Charles before looking up at Erik. "He won't come out; he doesn't want to."

Erik's eyebrows knitted together. "Why not?" 

Emma frowned. "I don't know. He's been tortured for weeks, Erik. Even his fantasies were filled with nightmares, and now he's in the easiest dream. You want to take that away from him?" There was a silence.

Emma sighed. "I'm trying to be reassuring but he . . . I don't know. He's not scared but then he is . . . I just--" She either didn't want to finish or she didn't know how.

This was the first time in a long time he had seen her truly at a loss.

Erik just nodded. "Can he stay in there?" Not that that was the apt plan, but if it was what Charles needed and if it was something he could come back from, the least Erik owed him was time.

Emma shook her head, exhaled and stood. "If his mind were a little nicer and his demons a little weaker, then maybe. But this is . . ." she gestured to the monitor and Charles's oxygen mask. "This will turn into life support instead of something temporary if he stays in there any longer. He'll be stuck."

Erik could hear it but he couldn't digest. Is this something Charles would want? Would he want to be taken off the machines if he couldn't wake up? And why the hell was Emma looking at him like he should know what to do?

When would this have come up in conversation? Along with those other things he would more than likely never tell or ask Charles? It probably would have went something like:

Charles? I am hopelessly in love with you, if you didn't know, and sometimes you're the only thing that keeps me going. Oh, and I was just wondering that if you were ever trapped in your own mind after I let you get kidnapped, tortured and become an unwilling murderer, would you want to stay trapped forever, put down, or pried out?

That conversation he knew would not work very well.

Suddenly, Emma's eyes snapped open and she looked at Erik like she was drowning.

"What?" he asked her, throwing out his hands as if to catch her.

She shook her head. "He's--" Her hands flew to her forehead. "God, he's speaking."

But there was no sound.

Just the three beating hearts and breathing with a little bit of static behind Erik's eyes.

Get out. He heard. Get out bad voices.

Maybe if he just could . . .

Charles. He sent, slightly scolding and very firm. Stop it; you're hurting Emma. She's trying to help you, just follow her.

No. Came the reply, biting and cut. Don't want Emma. Emma bad. Want Erik. Erik good.

His heart hit the floor and bounced back up in the same second, rattling around in his head before he forced it down through his throat and back into his chest where it belonged.

He thought for a moment and came up with a plan: If Charles wanted Erik to get him out, that's exactly what he would do.

Erik lowered himself to the chair where Emma had originally been sitting. He didn't know where she had gotten off to, but he couldn't think about it; couldn't let it distract him. He let his fingers rest easily over Charles's temples and something, not unlike a shock, passed through the limited space between them.

Just follow my voice then, so you can find me.

He felt a tug on the back of his mind and could picture what could only be described as a mental nod.

You'll never have to worry about needles or claws or the bad, bad people ever ever again. I swear.

There was a hault, like a boat hitting a small rock on its way downstream. Hesitation, Erik noted, and changed his narrative.

We can go somewhere bright and warm and away from all the bad. We never have to come back if you don't want to. Anything you want.

All you have to do is follow my voice.

Follow me back.

Come back to me.

I love you.

When Charles's eyes shot open this time -- fast as a bullet -- Erik knew he was back home this time for sure.

 Hey friends! So I know this one is relatively shorter than most of them, but I figured its been over a week and this was a good cliff-hanger.

Love,

Firefly