X-men: World of Gray

Chapter 25

Chapter 25…

The other mutants had left hours before. Planted on the edge of Charles' bed, Erik shifted his gaze between the unconscious man beside him and the machine on the opposite side of the room.

The main processors were rigged back in place. All the circuit boards had been installed; the main power cord was plugged into the ceiling. Only a few resisters were missing and those would take just minutes to hook up once the other mutants returned from the mainland. By tomorrow morning, Cerebro would be ready for use.

To everyone else, it was a weight off their shoulders. To Erik, however, it was like someone's arms were around him, squeezing him to death. He was the one who had to deal with Charles, to whatever extreme that definition would demand. He couldn't delegate the task to anyone else. Whatever Erik might do from necessity, someone like Riptide or Azazel would carry out for the sheer enjoyment.

From the bed, there came a groan. Erik drew his attention away from Cerebro and watched as his friend gradually found consciousness again. When his eyes flickered open minutes later, Charles' gaze bumped into Erik's. A frown instantly formed on his friend's face.

"Get out," Charles said, his voice cracking like he'd just eaten gravel.

Gently, Erik grabbed Charles' cuffed left hand and lifted it into view. "It's still a few hours until sundown," he explained and with his power, uncuffed his friend's wrist. "You need to get up—move around."

Charles yanked his arm away.

"That was a foolish thing you attempted today," Erik went on. "Did you honestly think I'd allow you to grab a hold of the teleporter's mind?"

"I was hoping to be away from this place before you made it to me."

"Always the optimist, it seems."

Insult contorted Charles' features. Tugging at his bed sheet, he covered himself up to his neck as if that would protect him. He rested there for a few minutes, obviously permitting the drugs to free his mind.

Pressing his lips together, Erik gestured a hand towards Charles' wheelchair beside the end table; under his power, it glided towards the edge of the bed.

"Here," Erik said. "Getting up should help."

Charles remained motionless like he was sleeping with his eyes open.

"Don't be stubborn." Erik reached out a hand.

Wrenching his arm away before Erik could close his fingers around it, Charles sat up. Clumsily, he grabbed the side of his wheelchair, and began transferring himself over. Erik kept his hands away but guarded in case Charles began to topple. Heaving his body into his chair, Charles took a moment to steady himself.

Feet crooked on his footplates, Charles sat upright. The drugs made his eyes appear unfocused; nonetheless, as he rested his hands in his lap, he still managed to glare.

"All right," he said and gestured to the cuffs. "Now, you can get out."

Sliding the handcuffs off the mattress frame, Erik held them in his grasp and then nodded towards the bathroom. "Go ahead. I'll wait here."

"No. Just put on the damn cuffs and then leave me be."

Erik shot a glance at the bed and then Charles. "You'll be stuck in your wheelchair all night."

"Then I'll be stuck in my wheelchair all night."

Dropping his head, Erik felt his stomach knot. It was so idiotic—Charles' relentless pride. And for what? Erik didn't even know. He wouldn't return until tomorrow morning, when he'd install the remaining components for Cerebro. And then…