XMFC/Erik the slave driver

[guideshapelead]

Going to sleep with food and drink in his stomach for the first time in a while, Charles sleeps far more deeply than he ever has since coming home from hospital. It's gone midday when he comes to again, the sun high in the sky and bleeding through his thick bedroom curtains.

Despite the long sleep, the telepath still somehow manages to feel utterly drained. He supposes it would be too much to hope, to suddenly feel better the second he decides to pull himself together and sort his life out. Burying his face into his pillow, it's with great effort that he makes himself press his fingers to his temple and seek out Erik, to let him know that he's awake. He knows the easier option would be to keep quiet, but he's determined not to fall back into that.

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[guideshapelead]

"I thought this resolution to take better care of myself was meant to make me feel better," Charles mutters when he's next able to talk, taking a moment to rest back against the wall.

"I can tell you now, I feel little better."

[diecastking]

"The effects of your...bed rest are still catching up to you." Erik's unhappy with the state his friend's in. But he also knows he's out of his depth.

"Hank should take a look at you."

[guideshapelead]

"He's just a boy, Erik," Charles frowns. Even with his Harvard degree, genius level intellect, and the new addition of blue fur from head to toe, Charles still thinks of Hank as just that; another one of the children, who needs sheltering and protecting.

"He doesn't need to be bothered by me."

[diecastking]

"None of them are children anymore, Charles." Erik shakes his head. "Hank found you...Alex found me. They are more than you give them credit for."

Erik rubs small circles into Charles' back.

"He's the closest thing to a doctor we have. Unless you want to go back to the hospital...?"

[guideshapelead]

"I'm not going back there, absolutely not," Charles is adamant on that fact. He's had more than enough of strangers dressing and undressing him like an infant, prodding and poking him at all hours of the day and night.

[diecastking]

"It's settled then. Hank will look you over and you will eat breakfast."

Erik nudges the plate of spam sandwiches, his own stomach twisted with nausea. He can't quite remember the last time he ate, and sleep is a distant memory.

[guideshapelead]

"Would you mind terribly if I finished getting dressed, first?" There's a snap to Charles' voice, aggression to hide the shame he feels at taking so long over what was once such a simple task. His trousers are still where he left them, around his knees, though he's struggling to summon up the energy to start rolling himself all around the bed again.

The realisation that this is how it'll always be, from now on, until the end of his days, is almost enough to bring tears to his eyes. A fresh wave of hopelessness washes over him, and he struggles to remember why he's trying to look after himself.

[diecastking]

Erik sees the tears in Charles' eyes and it's a struggle not to look away. So many times, he's wished that Charles would be more realistic and accept the humans could not be trusted. Now that Charles' world is nothing but bleak in all directions, he wants desperately to unwish it.

"Someone wise once told me that power lies between rage and serenity. You remember the children then? In the grounds, training? When Sean took flight? Hank ran circles around you and Alex burned the target and not your shirt? We have great things left to do, Charles. There is your serenity."

Then, his face closes and he finally looks away.

"And you need to be angry with me."

[guideshapelead]

"I could never be truly angry with you, my friend," Charles sighs, sure that Erik is closer to his serenity than anything else. Not that he's going to admit quite that much, out loud.

"And I believe my training days may have come to an abrupt close."

[diecastking]

"You should be," Erik says softly. "You were right, Charles - I did this."

Still unable to meet Charles' eyes, he sighs. "You should finish dressing. You'll catch cold."

[guideshapelead]

Shaking his head again, Charles is certain that this... this isn't Erik's fault. The bullet in his spine, yes. The fact that he can't feel his legs, also yes. But the weakness, the depression, the cough that feels like his whole body is about to shatter? That's his own doing. Erik hasn't forced him to mope and ignore the good advice of his friends.

"This is my own doing," he says, succintly, before starting to work his trousers up over his hips.

[diecastking]

Erik leans in close, ready to act as a support. Charles is visibly weakening before him, a startling flush spreading over his cheeks and neck.

Without thought, he wraps his hand around Charles' forehead again, concerned that what was previously unnatural warmth is now blistering heat.

"Perhaps," he says slowly, trying on the words. "it doesn't matter, as long as we find a way through."

[guideshapelead]

Through some extreme force of will, Charles manages to get his trousers around his waist and buttoned up with only minimal assistance, though doing so has sapped almost all of his energy. Every breath is a rattle in his chest as he lies his head back down on the pillow, skin flushed and clammy.

[diecastking]

Erik decides that Charles is going nowhere fast under his own power.

"You need to be more upright, Charles. You need to clear out your lungs. Pneumonia can be fatal and you, my friend, look like death."

Erik slides his arm beneath Charles' shoulders, but waits for permission before helping him up.

[guideshapelead]

Nodding that he's happy for Erik to move him, Charles tries his best to help as he's sat back upright, though his strength is fast deserting him. Letting his head drop down, he can't stop himself as the coughing starts up again, thick and foul-tasting mucus coming up from his lungs.

[diecastking]

Taking most of Charles' weight, Erik props his friend against his shoulder, dismayed at how weak Charles' is.

He keeps his voice low, a gentle murmur. "Catch your breath, Charles. Once you're in the chair, I'll take you down to the study. I believe I was about to thwart your queen before..."

He hesitates, words catching in his throat: "Before we left."

[guideshapelead]

Laughing through the coughs at Erik's words, Charles accepts the support and tries to force his breathing back under control, wiping his lips clean.

"I doubt I will pose much of a challenge to you today, old friend."

[diecastking]

Erik smiles, despite everything, and manouevres the chair into position with a flick of his index finger.

"Don't make me play with Hank, Charles," he says smoothly, raising the arm of the wheelchair with his eyebrow. "It's cruel to make the child weep."

Erik reluctantly slips away from Charles, moving Charles' hand to grip the opposite chair arm. He moves to the other side of the chair and reaches out to take hold of Charles' body once more. "Ready?"

[guideshapelead]

Charles doesn't have the strength left to even pretend he's going to heave his own weight into the chair, and so meekly nods at Erik's question. He's resigned himself to being lifted, though it doesn't stop him feeling embarrassed about the situation.

[diecastking]

In one swift movement, Erik pulls Charles across and into his chair. The arm flicks down and Erik seizes a blanket from the end of the bed, tucking it over Charles' knees with more energy than was strictly required.

He knelt at Charles' feet and carefully slid on his slippers, finally looking up at Charles in satisfaction.

"Quite the professor."

[guideshapelead]

"I'm only just 30, Erik," Charles frowns as he has a blanket draped over his lap, slippers placed on his feet. He'd complain more forcefully, but he does actually feel rather cold.

"I feel like a grandfather."

[diecastking]

"You feel like a man with a fever," Erik corrects gently.

He stands and circles the chair, placing his hands on the handles for show. "Where did you get this? You can't move yourself with this."

[guideshapelead]

"Hank made it," Charles tells him, relaxing back into the seat he's been placed in.

"I'm sure he saw some use in it."

[diecastking]

Erik bites back a comment about Hank supposedly designing a bulletproof suit and pushes Charles out into the corridor and towards the lift.

"This chair requires someone to push you." Erik tries to force levity. "And my back is not what it used to be, Charles."

[guideshapelead]

"Now who's the old professor?" Charles manages an honest laugh at that, folding his hands in his lap for want of something better to do with them.

"I'm sure Hank can design something more practical."