Note: There maybe at times, inconsistencies with previous parts – this would be because I’m writing this as I go … and then edit and adjust things down the road.  Once it’s done, edited and reposted all of it will come together.

***

Part One

Part Two

Part Three

Part Four

Part Five

***

“Erik No!”

Charles had only stepped outside the room, for thirty minutes.

The Head Nurse had assured him, that she would make sure Erik was ready to leave.  She adored Erik, and had practically adopted him these last few days.  She was always gentle with him, helped him sit up, showed him how to hold his chest while he coughed.  Had talked him through his breathing fits.

And after the one time she talked him out of a nightmare, ignoring the shaking metal railings. He had been tempted to kidnap her.

Charles had gone to the Administration Offices, to make sure he had everything they needed for Erik to be discharged, and pay his bill.  He had discovered that despite everything that was being said about Cuba, their health system was slowly developing into one much like the one he had seen while at Oxford.

Instead of a bill, he had been handed over a packet of material for Erik’s rehabilitation:  restrictions, breathing exercises, physical therapy, medications, treatment for the surgical incision, and a half dozen other important documents.

After picking up a bag full of medications, extra bandages and supplies he made his way back to the room.  Azazael was due to arrive in the next few moments.  The plan was for the teleporter to take Erik first, into the waiting arms of Hank.  Charles would make sure the staff thought they had helped Erik out to the front to a cab, before he was ‘zapped’ home.

He was looking forward to going home.

He wasn’t looking forward to what was waiting for him.

Despite the stress and panic he felt every time Erik gasped for a breath, the past five days had been pleasantly calm.  The two were content in their silence.

Charles was sure they would be back to bickering soon enough, and it would seem Erik wasn’t going to wait until they got back to New York.

“Where is Ester?”   He stalked into the room glaring at the sitting up patient, who wasn’t supposed to be sitting up without help.  “You were supposed to wait for me!”

“She went to get me a wheelchair.”  Erik glared, breathing hard hand clutching at his chest.  Just sitting up, and moving his legs over the edge of the bed had worn him out.  “I refused to be carried by Azazael like a bride on her wedding night back to the manor.”

“You make a lovely bride.”  The teleporter gave his burgeoning friend a smirk.   He had popped in and out over the past few days, enjoying startling Charles and snarking off at Erik.

Erik glanced over at Charles a slight smirk on his face.  “Charles prefers me in blue.”

He stared at the two of them, with a confused expression.  Until he felt Erik push an image of himself, in a blue dress with fishnet stalkings ….  “She told you!?”  Charles blushed, and then laughed lightly as he ducked his head.

“I always thought maroon was more my color.”  Erik chuckled only to cough.  “Okay let’s do this.”

He stood on shaky legs, hand gripping the hospital bed.  He bit back the groan, from the pain that shot through his whole body.  ‘Suck it up Erik, you’ve had worse.’

<<You don’t have to be strong all the time.>>

<<I can’t be weak.>>

Charles touched his cheek.  <<You’re the strongest person I know.>>

Erik reached out, taking Charles’ hand gripping it tightly.  <<Don’t let go.>>

“Never.”  He helped him move away from the bed, and closer to the teleporter.

Azazael wrapped his left arm around Erik, stepping closer to him.  He then took his right hand, into his own, the tail wrapped around his shoulder tapping Erik on the shoulder.

“Well I always knew I would end up dancing with the devil.”  He leaned into the taller mutant.

“You would take over hell, my friend.”  Azazael glanced over to Charles.  “I’ll be back in a few moments, so be prepared.

Charles nodded, stepping back almost everything he had was packed and ready to go. He just needed to shove all the paperwork and bag of meds into the duffle.

“Oh this is going … ”

And they were gone.

Note: I have an idea of where I’m going with this but no idea how I’m getting there 🙂

***

Part One

Part Two

Part Three

Part Four

***

Erik was resting once again.

The doctor had removed the respirator  from his throat, Charles was thankful it was made of plastic, or the situation would have gone a lot worse, than the side rail of the bed being bent.  They made sure he had plenty of oxygen, checked the incision to make sure it was healing and no infections were settling in.

The doctor informed him, that Erik would need weeks to months of recovery.

His lungs were weak and would need to build back up to normal capacity.  He would need to be careful in the future of infections.  A simple chest cold could set him back in recovery.  At the moment simple movement would cause loss of breath, and he would need to take things slowly.

The chest muscles would take time to heal, and Erik would need help with sitting up until the muscles strengthened.

Charles had kept a straight face, taking in all the information and pulling more from the doctor’s mind.  What worried him was the fact, Erik had eight staples in his chest muscles, and about two feet of wire wrapped around his sternum.

This wasn’t going to end well, he could feel it.

He had asked when it was possible for him to take Erik home.  The doctor gave him a look, as if Charles was insane, though he was pretty sure he was.  He was told under no circumstances was Erik to leave the hospital for another five days, and would need care afterwards.  Again re-iterating everything he had already told Charles.  Adding in the history of conducting open heart surgery and the fact that Erik was alive was a miracle and not push his recovery.

Charles calmed him down by explaining he had a place quiet away from everything where Erik could recover, plus a doctor on staff.  It was only then the doctor agreed he could leave the hospital in five days.

What Charles didn’t mention was that his place was in New York, and they would be using a teleporter mutant to get home.  He figured it would be painful and uncomfortable for Erik but only a few short minutes compared to a plane ride.

And the way the news was going on about sanctions against Cuba he wasn’t even sure he would be able to get out of the country.  Considering he had no passport, documents or proof of who they were.

Last thing he wanted to do was alert the CIA to where they were.  He had a feeling the only reason he hadn’t had the ‘Men in Black’ in Erik’s hospital room was Azazael hadn’t told anyone where they were at, and was watching Moira.

A selfish part of him wanted to find a place in Cuba and hide Erik away from everything.  Including the rants Charles was going to hear from Raven, and Hank’s ‘I don’t approve stare’.

Erik was meant to be by his side, as he was meant to by his.

When he would even take a moment to think of the two of them separated dread filled him, not just for himself but for the world.

“When can I leave?”

It was still disconcerting to hear such a soft quiet tone from Erik.  The man was blunt, forceful, cold, serious, not quiet or weak.  Charles glanced at the bed, watching Erik watch him.  He hadn’t mentioned the fact Charles hadn’t let go of his hand, and the few times he had tried to pull it away, Erik had held tighter.

“A few more days.”  He shifted until he was leaning against the bed.  “They want to make sure you are more stable, and no infecitons.”

He took a few short breathes, struggling to cough.  Charles grabbed a small cup from the table … the second one they’ve had, he won’t mention what happened to the first after Erik woke up from a particular nasty nightmare … he helped him sit up and put some of the ice chips into his mouth.

“What is in my chest?”

Charles tried to bluff his way around it, but the mutant’s eyes narrowed, and the fifth pen ended up embedded into the wall.  Erik closed his eyes as pain shot through him, he gasped for air forcing Charles to shove the oxygen mask back onto his face.  <<Calm your mind.>>

<<I was shot you asshole.>>

Charles bit back the smirk, last thing he wanted to do was encourage Erik’s bad behavior.  He already knew it was going to be hell on earth, during his recovery.

<<Steady breathes.  Relax your chest.  Don’t tense.>>

<<I hate you so much.>>

But he followed Charles’ instructions, slowly calming down as he breathing regulated.  “I feel the metal Charles.”

“You have staples holding the muscles together, and a wire sealing up the bone.”

“I want them out.”

“They are holding your chest together!”  He would not back down on this.  He wasn’t the one who sat outside, watching as doctors worked to save his life.  “The staples can be removed in six weeks.  Hank can do the surgery.”  Charles ignored Erik’s snort.  “The wires … it would be best if you limited using your powers until you’re fully healed.”

“So if Hank is doing this surgery when do we go home? If I’m still welcome.”

Charles knew his expression softened at the word ‘home’.  He probably had a sappy look on his face, if Erik’s roll of the eyes was any indication.

“In five days Erik, we will go home.  Where you will do everything the doctor says.  You will not push your limits.  You will rest.  You will ask for help.  You will listen to me!”