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atthemercyof) wrote2011-10-14 08:43 pm
atthemercyof) wrote2011-10-14 08:43 pm
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do you remember the way that you touched me before?
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oldcardigans || Kingdom of Rust. ]
[ It takes him an inordinately long time to get settled. It starts with trying to steal clothes, Erik is good at that, always has been. Slight of hand isn't a skill picked up just because of his mutation, and he's able to swipe locker keys, find trousers and a jumper that fit too tight on his shoulders and too wide around his waist, but it does. He steals the shoes next, and then stops, allows himself the one moment of utter, abject terror that's been coursing around his veins since the beach.
He did this. This is is fault, that the one thing Erik had wanted to keep safe is now broken somewhere in a hospital, and it is all Erik's fault. It crashes in on him far away from his friend's reach, and he lets it, knows that soon he will have to pull the threads of his psyche together and get on with it. His hand trembles against the flat of the locker, warping itself to his palm as he breathes in, out, forcing air into his lungs as best he can. For a second he thinks he might lose it, feels the shake in his stomach, the urge to retch rising. He should have been stronger.
But it's too late, and Erik has made a promise. He sets himself to rights, goes off after Raven. It's then he runs into the children (minus Hank, which is understandable). It should be interesting, the tentative allegiance they've built up with Azazel, but he doesn't have time to contemplate it, watches the other mutant disappear with a cloud of smoke. After that it all rolls into a blur, Raven's tear strained face and the boys with an accusing slant to their eyes. Erik doesn't blame them, he might as well as pulled the trigger himself. The air around him is tense, vibrating with a dark kind of danger. Erik hates hospitals, the way they smell, the feel of the tools calling to him. Everything is wrong.
He worries the entire time, letting the blackness of his thoughts consume him, and it's only when Raven orders the boys to the cafeteria and bodily manhandles Erik into a seat does he realise he's been pacing, teeth gritting, hands in fists at his side. He's a mess, looks like an unpredictable factor, and even the nurses are giving him the side-eye. But he has to be, anything could happen now, war has been declared upon them, and they're weak at the moment, easily crushed. It's maddening and terrifying, sets off a fear Erik didn't know existed, one that blocks up his throat.
It's hours later, when he knows the children are downstairs, that he's folded into a hard chair in unfamiliar clothing, Charles asleep and fighting off anaesthetic a foot away from him. Erik's pretending to rest whenever someone goes past, whenever it's Raven especially, who wrings her hands and touches Charles' face once before going to find Alex. Erik hates that he's done this to her, to Charles, to the make-shift family they worked so hard to build up. When he's alone with just the beeping of the monitors and Charles' breathing for company, he opens his eyes, lets them focus on the window, a hollow feeling in his chest because he will never walk again. He's alive, Erik tries to tell himself, and alive is so much greater.
But it doesn't help, not really, not to who he's taken it from. ]
oldcardigans || Kingdom of Rust. ][ It takes him an inordinately long time to get settled. It starts with trying to steal clothes, Erik is good at that, always has been. Slight of hand isn't a skill picked up just because of his mutation, and he's able to swipe locker keys, find trousers and a jumper that fit too tight on his shoulders and too wide around his waist, but it does. He steals the shoes next, and then stops, allows himself the one moment of utter, abject terror that's been coursing around his veins since the beach.
He did this. This is is fault, that the one thing Erik had wanted to keep safe is now broken somewhere in a hospital, and it is all Erik's fault. It crashes in on him far away from his friend's reach, and he lets it, knows that soon he will have to pull the threads of his psyche together and get on with it. His hand trembles against the flat of the locker, warping itself to his palm as he breathes in, out, forcing air into his lungs as best he can. For a second he thinks he might lose it, feels the shake in his stomach, the urge to retch rising. He should have been stronger.
But it's too late, and Erik has made a promise. He sets himself to rights, goes off after Raven. It's then he runs into the children (minus Hank, which is understandable). It should be interesting, the tentative allegiance they've built up with Azazel, but he doesn't have time to contemplate it, watches the other mutant disappear with a cloud of smoke. After that it all rolls into a blur, Raven's tear strained face and the boys with an accusing slant to their eyes. Erik doesn't blame them, he might as well as pulled the trigger himself. The air around him is tense, vibrating with a dark kind of danger. Erik hates hospitals, the way they smell, the feel of the tools calling to him. Everything is wrong.
He worries the entire time, letting the blackness of his thoughts consume him, and it's only when Raven orders the boys to the cafeteria and bodily manhandles Erik into a seat does he realise he's been pacing, teeth gritting, hands in fists at his side. He's a mess, looks like an unpredictable factor, and even the nurses are giving him the side-eye. But he has to be, anything could happen now, war has been declared upon them, and they're weak at the moment, easily crushed. It's maddening and terrifying, sets off a fear Erik didn't know existed, one that blocks up his throat.
It's hours later, when he knows the children are downstairs, that he's folded into a hard chair in unfamiliar clothing, Charles asleep and fighting off anaesthetic a foot away from him. Erik's pretending to rest whenever someone goes past, whenever it's Raven especially, who wrings her hands and touches Charles' face once before going to find Alex. Erik hates that he's done this to her, to Charles, to the make-shift family they worked so hard to build up. When he's alone with just the beeping of the monitors and Charles' breathing for company, he opens his eyes, lets them focus on the window, a hollow feeling in his chest because he will never walk again. He's alive, Erik tries to tell himself, and alive is so much greater.
But it doesn't help, not really, not to who he's taken it from. ]