#“I don’t want to do this anymore.” | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

wolfwarden · 2 years

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Whumptober Day 5 & 24- Blood Loss, "I don't want to do this anymore."

Word count: 3,703 Fandom: Linked Universe Characters: Time & Warriors (@gintrinsic-writing this is at least partly your fault. 😅) -

Time wakes slowly, his heart stuttering oddly in his chest. The wound in his shoulder burns and overshadows the aches flaring all along his side from where he hit the ground. He struggles to raise his head, but a steady hand presses down on his chest, trapping him.

“Stay down. You’ll only make yourself dizzy.”

He hates how easily he’s held down. Is the person beside him that strong or is Time that weak? He frowns and tries to blink the world back into focus. “I hit my head, didn’t I.”

“No. But you’re bleeding a lot. Take it easy.” The tone is gentle and fond and familiar. Time finds it hard not to relax into those words. They make him feel very young, like when he first met the Captain in the War of Ages. It had been an odd adventure, with a different hero looking after him instead of- Wait. His thoughts are sluggish but he tries to push through. That is the Captain’s voice. I'm with him but he’s Warriors now and I… I was hit. He tries once more to sit up.

“Old man!” Warriors snaps at him and grabs Time’s arm, grip strong and steady.

The world dips and sways for a moment before leveling out. Time leans closer to his support, his pulse thundering in his ears as he sucks in a shaky breath.

“Stubborn cuss. I told you.”

Once again the hands push him forcibly back to the ground. “Ah. It’s the blood loss, I take it,” Time says, avoiding Warriors' exasperated gaze by focusing on the rosy sky behind him. The sunrise has painted the morning a deep pink.

“The- of course, it’s the blood loss. You had an arrow in your shoulder!”

Time tries to inspect his tunic, fingers fumbling over torn and bloody (but thankfully arrow-free) fabric. Warriors bats the probing fingers away. Time’s fingers instead follow a trailing bloodstain up to the captain’s beloved scarf, reaching up and tugging at the stained fabric just under Warriors’ chin. “Getting sloppy.”

Warriors’ hands give a rough jerk as they wind a bandage around Time’s wound. “Don’t worry about it.”

Is it normal for the world to tip so unnervingly? Time feels he might topple over despite already lying flat on his back. Or maybe he’ll fall up into the sky. He fights to pull his thoughts back in line as his mouth babbles on. “You’re normally so careful. Probably ‘cause you’ve had a lot of practice.”

“Doing what? Patching you up?” The words are lighthearted but Warriors seems distracted, eyes flitting from side to side. “I’ve had enough to last me a lifetime, Sprite.”

“Sorry.” The shadows at the edges of Time’s vision darken and stretch for a moment, so he tries to slow his breathing, fighting the pull of unconsciousness. But the air feels too thin. It whistles in and out of him in quick, shallow bursts. “I might pass out.” His voice sounds wondering, like a child’s.

“Yes, you might.”

But that wasn’t right. He just woke up. He’s recovered from worse injuries than this without feeling so heavy and weak. Stubbornness makes him clench his fists and gather himself for another attempt at rising.

He fails.

It rankles to think Warriors will have to take care of him on top of leading the others. He’s been taking on too much recently, Time thinks, and he’s going to burn out… Memories from the past couple of weeks crowd forward in his mind: Warriors jumping to patch everyone up after battles no matter his own injuries; Warriors insisting on seeing to tasks alone so the others could rest; Warriors wandering back into camp with an unconscious hero in his arms, stubbornly putting himself in charge of their recovery.

Frankly, it was alarming how frequently that last one had been happening, and Time wasn’t about to become the next burden. “Help me up,” he says.

“You’re too weak.” A gentle hand sweeps over his head. “Rest now.”

“Silly to go back to sleep this early in the morning. It’s time to be up. So I should be up.” Time tries for a teasing smile but Warriors’ answering look is still tense. He tries for a more sincere tone, searching for the key to let him win this argument. “I’m not that kid anymore. I should be taking care of you.”

“You do.” The words are soft and difficult to catch. “You are.”

“Not enough,” Time insists.

Warriors hesitates before answering in a near-whisper, “Too much.”

Something in those words isn’t right. Time tries to sit up again, to get a closer look at Warriors, but weariness has him bound to the ground. He wants to assure Warriors that he sees him and everything he does for them. Everything he did was for the good of the group.

Warriors sucks in a shaky breath. “You were already so pale… but I couldn’t…” His face twists into a pained expression before he gives his head a sharp shake. “No more. I don’t want to do this anymore.”

There’s something amiss here, Time thinks, like Warriors is trying to convince himself of something, but Time’s sluggish brain still won’t cooperate.

“It’s okay. It won’t happen again.” Warriors finally turns to look at Time, eyes bright, cheeks flushed from the recent fight. He looks more energized now than before the fight began. He slots his arms under Time’s shoulders and knees and in one motion has him hoisted into the air.

But that can’t be right. Time’s vision floats in and out of focus but he knows this can’t be real. Warriors carry him in full armor? The captain is strong but not that strong, so what on earth is happening…

Time blinks and finds himself on the ground again, armor and weapons removed, bundled in a blanket and soaking in the warmth of the mid-morning sun. Legend is lying close to his side, similarly bundled up. Their veteran still hasn't fully recovered from yesterday’s battle, where he’d taken a hit meant for someone else. He seems to be sleeping peacefully now and Time can’t bring himself to wake him and ask how he really made it back to camp.

“Need something warm to drink?” Wild crouches next to Time, steaming cup in hand, looking much less pale than he did yesterday though he still wears a bandage around his neck at Warriors’ insistence.

“Thank you.” Time reaches for the cup but pauses as his hands shake. He glares at them, trying not to feel too irritated with his body’s weakness. Malon would put up such a fuss if she knew how hard he was being on himself again.

Wordlessly, Wild helps him into a slightly more upright position and guides the cup to Time’s mouth. The homey taste of milk and honey floods his mouth, but a bitter aftertaste has him grimacing.

Wild watches him with far too innocent an expression.

He laces his question into a single word, “Wild.”

The young man snorts. “Sorry. Mixed a bit of red potion in there.”

Even as he says it, Time can feel the ache in his shoulder ease considerably. “You shouldn’t have wasted it.”

“It’ll only be a waste if you don’t finish it. Drink up.”

He begrudgingly raises the cup only to have his hands tremor again, slopping honeyed milk over the side.

“Careful!” Wild steadies him. “I guess,” he asks disappointedly, “you’re still feeling weak too?”

Time frowns. “It would appear so.” This was not the first instance of this happening. Another injury that felt worse than it should. Another potion that healed flesh but did not restore strength. The puzzle nagged at Time.

“Warriors thinks we might have gotten a bad batch of red potions at our last stop, but Four thinks that there’s something about this era that’s affecting us.” From the pinched expression on his face, Time can tell the mystery is bothering Wild just as much.

Time tries to push his cup back to Wild. “Give the rest of this to Legend.”

“Oh, no, you’re drinking that. Besides I’ve already had Legend drink a potion.”

Time looks over his shoulder at Legend, still sleeping through their whispered conversation. He already senses the answer but can’t help but ask, “No change?”

“No. His wounds are all closed up but he still seems so drained.” Wild sounds tired himself. “But then again, there was a lot of blood….”

Indeed there was. Time can remember it clearly. The crack of a metal blade splitting a shield. Legend’s shocked cry of pain. Warriors' blinding panic as Legend fell back against him, blood splattering across the captain’s face. He recalls the way Warriors curled over Legend, equal parts protective and manic, shouting at them all in a near scream “stay back, I know what to do, just give me space!”

Time shudders, a chill snaking through him.

“Time?” Wild lifts the cup again. “You need to drink.”

He obeys if only to spare Wild from having to worry over another patient. Despite its offensive aftertaste, the warm drink does its work and by the time it’s gone Time feels the irresistible pull of sleep. He doesn’t fight it. “Wake me in an hour,” he mumbles. Perhaps after a short rest, his thoughts will stop tumbling over themselves. Later, in the clear light of day, perhaps things will make sense.

~~~

When he wakes, there is no sun to greet him. Cold moonlight paints the campsite and Time is groggily counting the Hylian-sized shapes on the ground before his thoughts properly crystallize. He reaches seven, counting himself, before his ears catch the harsh whispers of conversation from deeper in the woods.

“They’ve settled in for the night but still close enough it makes me uneasy, ‘specially considering we’ve got injured.”

That was Twilight. Was there danger nearby?

“But not many?”

Warriors’ voice, his tone sharp and focused.

“Four Bokoblins, a single Lizalfos, and a couple Like-Likes. Easy pickin’s.”

Time could almost hear the eye-roll in Twilight’s voice.

Twilight continued, "I'll keep an eye on 'em for now and we can pick them off just before daybreak."

Ah. Nothing too out of the ordinary then. Twilight was adhering to Warriors’ standing “orders” (though he was careful never to frame them as such): No splitting the group to pick off unaware monsters. No solo hunts. And certainly no unplanned attacks at night.

"No.”

"No?" Time feels his own surprise mirrored in Twilight's response. "But you-"

"Look at them, Rancher. Our companions are all exhausted. I know I don't normally condone this, but let's clear these monsters on our own."

Time can't see Twilight's expression, but the silence drags on uncomfortably long. There's the soft sound of a few footfalls drawing closer, then Warriors’ voice sounds again.

"We need to look after them. Time especially… he was so pale after the fight today…"

"You think he's getting sick?"

Twilight's concern is an almost tangible thing, the weight of it pressing down on Time. He wants to roll over and object that he's fine, but he holds still. There’s an awful creeping feeling, born from years of adventuring, cautioning him to wait.

Warriors hums in contemplation. "Yes, that might explain a few things. A sickness."

"Four told me yesterday that he's concerned about Legend and Wild. They haven't been acting right either."

"How so?" Warriors’ voice has turned harsh. Time knows how seriously Warriors takes sickness running through his camp.

"Too weak, too lethargic."

"Rancher, they are recovering from massive injuries. Of course, they're extra tired."

"Legend barely sleeps through the night injured or not,” Twilight replies, sounding unconvinced, “but he's been in and out for almost two days."

"Blood loss, Rancher."

"Then what about Wild? Bruises and broken bones don’t equate to blood loss there. But he's just as weak-"

"He was just as weak. He's much better now and he'd be horrified to hear you call him that."

The sound of Twilight's teeth snapping shut is audible. "I didn't mean it like that!" came the growled reply.

A low chuckle responds, "I know, I know."

“He insisted on watching over Time in case he woke up, but did you see him afterward? He helped Time get a single drink and then had to sit and rest. Wild. Sitting still voluntarily! The both of them out at the same time is just….” The anxiety in Twilight’s voice made Time feel guilty like he was peering into fears Twilight hadn’t permitted him to see.

Warriors says, “Do you think I want them to be hurt?”

“What? No, of course not.”

“Good. I don’t want it to happen. But sometimes it does. All we can do is take care of them afterward. It’s a cycle of loss and regrowth, but we can manage,” he whispers intensely. “We can survive this.”

There’s a pause, then, "I don't know that I ever thanked you. When he fell. You jumped down after Wild faster than anyone."

Time could supply the rest of Twilight's thoughts. ‘Faster than me.’

Twilight continues, "And then you carried him all the way back up the mountain path." Time hears a quick shuddering breath. "The whole time you were gone I kept imagining-" his voice cuts off abruptly.

Time remembers. He remembers the relief of seeing Warriors crest the ridge, Wild tucked carefully in his arms. He remembers how Warriors had laughed off their panic, doing his best to put them all at ease. He remembers Warriors teasing them about being old mother cuccos, shooing them away from Wild so they wouldn't wake him and aggravate the pulled muscle in his neck that the defective potions couldn’t seem to touch. He'd been so attentive and careful to keep ice chu jelly on the bandages, changing them out himself. Time had been proud of how Warriors had practically adopted all the boys, acting almost apologetic as he’d looked after them all.

Everything Warriors did was for the good of the group. Time clings to that.

There’s a shuffling of feet in leaves and Warriors says, "You're a good man, Twilight. You care about others and you protect them.” Warriors’ voice drops low and Time strains to hear more. “All I ask is that you let me help this time.” There’s a shuffle, perhaps the sound of Warriors clapping Twilight’s shoulder, and he says in a much more lighthearted tone, “No need to wake everyone for a few Bokoblins.”

There is a moment of silence where Twilight doesn’t answer.

Surely not, Time thinks. Twilight has sharp senses. He’ll realize something isn’t right here.

“…Unless you think Wild would be willing to sit out for the fight in the morning?”

There’s a snort of derision and the sound of footsteps trailing away from the campsite.

They’re leaving. Time couldn’t put into words why the realization filled him with dread. He didn’t know what he suspected, if anything, but there was a warning screaming in his head that bad was going to happen.

I have to follow them. I need more information. He rolls carefully to the side, shivering as his blanket is left behind and exposes him to the chill night air. Legend, toss-and-turn-through-the-night, and lightest-sleeper-of-them-all Legend doesn’t even twitch. Time plants his hands flat on the ground and carefully lifts himself to his knees. A wave of dizziness hits him but he holds steady until it passes. And it would pass. He would wait it out and make it to his feet. Precious minutes tick by until Time feels steady enough to rise. He does so slowly, hating how wobbly his legs feel, but he’s up. He allows himself one small triumphant grin before he takes his first careful step forward.

He falls.

“Time!”

The half-whisper half-yell startles Time and he whips his head around from his undignified sprawl on the ground. Four scuttles over to him, leaving a hastily abandoned bedroll behind.

“What happened? Why are you on the ground?”

“Nothing happened. That’s rather the point,” Time grumbles, breathing much too hard for a man who had only attempted to get out of bed.

Four gives him a narrow-eyed look. “I guess the better question is ‘Why are you getting up unassisted in the middle of the night?’”

And what can he say to that? ‘I got up to eavesdrop on our mutual companions?’ ‘I went to stop a foolish risk?’ ‘I have a bad feeling?’

Four waits patiently.

“I hardly know myself.”

Four does not look reassured. “Did you hit your head?”

“No.”

“Well, let’s at least get you back to bed.”

Time thankfully (or shamefully) is only a few steps away from his bedroll so Four manages easily enough to support Time’s awkward crawl back. He’s shivering uncontrollably now and Four tugs on the blanket, trying to tuck it in snuggly around him.

“I’m all right now. Don’t fuss.”

Once again Four pins him with a look that conveys his disapproval more than words could, before grabbing a spare cloak from someone’s bag and layering that over Time as well.

Time is hit with the urge to laugh at the image Four presents. The littlest of all the heroes but with such a solemn, world-weary look. But Four has seen the world, Time reminds himself. He is an ally, not a child to be protected. He repeats that fact often, especially with Wind. Sharing a burden is not something that comes naturally to him, Malon of all people could attest to that, but he’s learning. He’s trying.

Perhaps tonight he should try harder. “I’m worried about Twilight and Warriors.”

“Oh?” Four’s gaze flicks over the camp. “They’re on watch tonight. I assume they’re scouting now?”

“Yes. But I-“ The words are hard to get out, sounding even more foolish spoken aloud, “I have a bad feeling.”

“You feel worse?”

“No.” He grits his teeth and then glares up at the stars, pointedly ignoring the pale face of the moon grinning back at him. Anxiety twists up inside him, warning him that something was coming that he wasn’t ready for. It’s old paranoia. Don’t let it control you. You have no proof of anything.

“You really need to rest, Time.” Four pats Time’s leg as the older man forces his body to relax. “The fight today was brutal. Honestly, I’d be more surprised if one of you didn’t come back injured after Warriors had you two pull away from us like that.” Four rubs his face tiredly. “I know he’s trying out new strategies, but I don’t see the benefit of isolating a few fighters from the group after we’re already engaged in combat.”

“Wait, he-“ An icy knot forms in Time’s stomach as he tries to recall details of how he was shot. “He did that intentionally?”

Sticks snap and crunch underfoot as Warriors himself walks back into the clearing, drawing their attention. The sight that greets them has Time going rigid with shock. Twilight is slumped against Warriors’ side, an arm slung over Warriors’ shoulder, head hanging limply to his chest.

No. Not him. It’s now a horribly familiar sight, another injured boy brought back to camp. Hurting. Unconscious. Cursed, Time thinks. Perhaps we’re all cursed in the moonlight.

"What happened?!" Four calls, rushing over, but Warriors holds out a hand.

“No! Stay back!"

Four jerks back in confusion, gaze bouncing between Twilight, deadweight against Warriors’ side, and Warriors, who holds him upright easily.

Time’s heart races and the shrieking warning in his mind reaches a crescendo. He dares not make a sound.

"You were right, Four," Warriors says earnestly, eyes glittering black in the moonlight. "Twilight told me. There must be a sickness going around.”

“What’s wrong with Twilight?“

“He collapsed.” Warriors lays Twilight gently down, careful not to jostle his head. Even from a distance, Time can hear Twilight’s labored breathing. “Must’ve been hiding how sick he was feeling. Typical Rancher.” Warriors shakes his head and holds a warning finger up to Four. “You must have sensed it before anyone else.” Then he smiles admiringly. “Though I shouldn’t be surprised. You've always been the clever one. But now we should take care to spread out and keep the sick quarantined from the healthy."

It makes sense. It sounds logical. Time wants to argue against it. But he lies still and doesn’t open his mouth. Warriors seems to not have noticed him and that feels like the only good luck he’s had since the last portal brought them to this cursed land.

"But-"

Warriors snaps, "Please, Four, we need some of us to stay healthy. We're defenseless if everyone is sick at once!” The fierce look is turned off in an instant, replaced with the former pleading and gentle manner. He places a hand on Twilight’s chest without breaking eye contact with Four. “I'll look after him, you know I will, but I need you to guard the others and keep them from getting too close and infected. Will you help me?"

Don’t do it. Time wants to scream but he can’t articulate why. He won’t imagine why. The only thing that would make sense of this is if Warriors wanted them to be hurt. But he couldn’t. He didn’t.

Four nods. "Of course."

Warriors smiles back, and to Time it seems a sinister thing.

But the nights of the full moon always set him on edge like this. They made him paranoid, seeing shadows in the dark, making his heart race. Yes, that must be it. Not my brother’s fault, Time thinks. Not the captain. Everything Warriors did was for the good of the group.

Time tells himself this, but finds it harder to believe it.

He digs his fingers into the dirt on either side, fearful of the world lurching around him, tossing him into the night sky and into the maw of the cruel moon. He holds on and prays for daybreak when everything will make sense again. He can’t trust himself at night. Old paranoia. Yes, that was it.

The moonlight incites accidents that should never have happened. It paints the face of his brother into hard panes and a harsher smile.

It glints on white teeth, making them seem unnaturally long in the moonlight.

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stormxpadme · 2 years

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Whumptober 2022 No. 24 - Blood covered hands & “I don’t want to do this anymore.”

1969

“I don’t want to do this anymore."

"You should have thought of that before we left." Charles' eyes narrowed in a brief moment of focus on his abilities, two fingertips stretched away from the leather reins in his hands towards his horse's head when Guinevere threw it up in annoyance at Erik's sharp tone.

A soothing touch to the primitive animal's mind immediately stopped it from prancing in its dramatic nervousness but the mare kept her ears firmly set back against her head. The newest pride and joy in Charles' stable didn't have a lot of love for Erik; a feeling that was wholeheartedly mutual.

That necessary intervention dealt with, his partner threw Erik a partly mocking but mostly very exasperated side-glance from under his helmet. "I've got to teach in two hours. The lady and I have to use the time until then. I'm not going to pony Lance the rest of the way, so suck it up."

"You know exactly that's not what I mean." His face only darkening further, Erik drew his own helmet deeper into his face. As much as he hated the thought, sometimes he couldn't put it completely behind Charles to use those powerful abilities even against him if he thought it necessary. Lately, his own gift had offered Erik a promising kind of protection against that kind of thing if he used it right. Something that he hadn't quite around to tell Charles yet, and on some days it was harder than on others, making himself believe that was only because he wanted to perfect that new skill first. Trying it out with the only person he shouldn't have to fear anything from shouldn't have been necessary in the first place. Offering to go on this ride with his partner on his part, freely albeit grudgingly because Erik lacked both talent and patience for this ancient means of transportation, had been the only chance to finally spend some time with his lover again, thanks to all their current stressful projects and their school filling up with more students by the month. Erik finally wanted to get some of that disunity and confusion between them out of the way.

But unlike him, Charles didn't even seem to be willing to fucking try anymore.

"Well, with everything you've been complaining about lately, you're gonna have to be more specific." Unfazed by Erik's offended huff, Charles steered his mare into the undergrowth of the woods behind their mansion, giving her still-so-young legs a proper uphill warm-up workout before the real exercise. Straightening up in the stirrups, he slightly bent forward to take his full weight off the animal's back.

While there were worse sights to enjoy than his lover's firm behind in skintight pants right in front of him, Erik wasn't about to let Charles out of this discussion so easily by him trying to make sure, they didn't have any air left to speak. And he also wasn't ready to resort to silently trading thoughts right now as Charles might see a few things in his head that Erik wasn't ready to share yet before he'd finished pondering about them himself. "I'm not in the mood." Therefore, once they'd reached the top of the small hill, Erik simply steered Lancelot sideways in front of Charles' mare, with an impatient tug on the reins that earned him an unwilling snort from his horse. Animal sensitivities, he couldn't take into account right now though. The whole annual edition that was Charles' issues was too much to deal with this afternoon as it was.

"I'm hearing that an awful lot lately." His lover still didn't take him seriously. He even had the nerve to pass Erik by on a path actually far too narrow for that and give his behind a provocative squeeze through his jeans while he did, leaving no doubt about what he meant.

Another time, it might have worked, provoking pleasant memories of nights that in some moments felt like a thousand years ago instead of just a few months ... Right now, the lewd gesture only angered Erik even more, because knowing it would probably be the last touch today was one of the most alarming signs, things weren't going the way they should right now. Hadn't been for far longer than he cared to admit. "Bold of you to say after falling asleep on me half of the time we try. We have bigger problems. Try calling your alien girlfriend if you need more sex."

The fact that only now, at the mention of someone who kept on causing trouble between them without all of them even being in the same galaxy, that unimpressed levity on Charles' face made room for a scowl, did nothing to soothe Erik's anxiety. "It's been seven years. And it's still only a professional relationship. Mind telling me what's really wrong? We don't need more sex, Erik. What we need right now is focus on and faith in our plans."

"I have plenty of faith in us." With a little more practice, Erik thought, that lie could sound like he even believed it himself at this point. Like they weren't both taking every excuse within reach to keep as busy as possible, just to avoid arguing the whole time. And always about the same tiring subject. "Just not in them."

"Some things take time." Charles immediately sounded absent, detached almost, as usual, when what was their most fundamental difference of opinion emerged. Dull spurs on polished boots pressed into Guinevere's slender sides, getting her into a fast trot that this overgrown, uneven path was actually not suited for either, just for Charles to get some distance between them.

Erik gave his gelding an admonishing little slap with his crop so that the animal might actually remember the speed he'd used to race for Charles with in Ascot not too long ago until they were making their way between broad trees and thorn-studded bushes side by side. Not today. He was no longer willing to watch this thing eat them up from the inside, threaten everything they'd built between themselves and in that damn mansion back there together, not in a period when they had to be stronger than ever together. "Time is what we're running out of right now. You know that as well as I do."

"You can't force humanity to accept something they don't understand yet." Reluctantly, Charles reined in his mare again when they neared a gravel pit that had been supposed to become a new building here long ago before Charles had manipulated someone on the city council enough to sell the whole area to him. Not a good ground for a race, if you didn't want to risk injury, especially if you were so dead set on winning yet another prestige title soon to advertise your breed further. All just to keep up appearances of their house, to keep finances stable, to not make any too-high waves.

It was a drill Erik was growing increasingly tired of, given there were billions of people out there refusing to let those among mutant race who weren't as privileged as Charles and he, even exist among them. "Watch me. How do you expect them to understand if you never let them see us?"

Charles wiped the soft sheen of a too-hot afternoon from his forehead with his glove and pushed his helmet back slightly to finally look Erik in the eye, for the first time in what felt like days. "We're not hiding. We protect those who can't do that yet themselves. This is what we made this school for."

"You sure as hell hide enough from me," Erik gritted out before he could stop himself though he'd meant to keep at least that argument for another day. And yet it was part of all this. How was this whole thing between them supposed to work, how was Erik supposed co-run this damn place when he didn't understand half of what tech and information it was built on? The moment Charles had shut him out of this part of his life, they'd stopped talking as much as it would have been necessary. That made it increasingly difficult to ignore who was responsible for that abyss between them a thousand times larger than that empty pit right there.

"I'm under oath," Charles said with the exhausted emptiness of a fact a thousand times repeated and not once offering any kind of consolation. "I don't like that but for the good of Earth, it was necessary to swear it. Lilandra's and my minds are closely enough connected for her to know if I told you what she wants to keep between her and me. I don’t know what about that is so unclear."

"You chose her over me, that’s what." It was Erik's turn to steer his horse away, drive it along the unsecured pit edge to get to the trail on the other side that would lead them back to the mansion, on a far straighter and less challenging path. Perfect for a couple of long canter stretches to prevent any more talking that made no difference anyway.

"I'm choosing the greater good over us when I am forced to," Charles called after him, suddenly sounding honestly angry himself. Good. That was more emotion than he'd allowed smoldering between them for a year or so. "Wasn't it you who taught me that in the first place?"

Erik pulled Lancelot around, impatiently slipping back to balance in the saddle when his gelding bolted to the side, done with his clumsy aids for the day. He hardly noticed how Charles reached out to his horse for a calming touch inside its head this time. Glaring red particles were glistening in his vision; it took him all he had not to yell at his lover and drive the damn horses crazy for good, because fuck, no, Charles did not get to turn this around on him, not after everything Erik had given up for this far too tame dream of theirs. "If you want to protect our kind as I do, stop holding everyone back, and help me teach them how to survive. That’s what they need, Charles. Not some pretty illusions of a better world."

Charles' face' under the shadow of his helmet tightened, his posture so stiff suddenly, Guinevere took a step or two backward. "They're traumatized children, not soldiers. They, too, need time before they can prepare for what's to come. You know what I'm no longer in the mood for? You trying to sabotage each of my goals. You going behind my back and getting uniforms for teenagers who don't even know if they ever want to wear them. You trying to hire serial killers for our staff …"

"We are short on staff options, in case you haven't realized," Erik interrupted him, maybe a little too fast, with a slight blush on his cheeks, because fine, admittedly … That one guy he'd almost brought on Westchester's trail lately would have been too much of a risk to work with. Living a life like theirs never came without any of it, though, and certainly not without sacrifices. There had been a time when Charles had known that. "And we're all killers. Each of us in our own way."

"Only if we choose to", his lover said, with his chin held high, as if Erik had not seen him drive people to suicide on more than one recruitment flight before, with but a single thought, to keep them from taking yet another innocent child's life.

Sometimes Erik envied Charles for his gift of rarely having to physically step in during a battle, but on days like this, it became painfully clear how quickly such comfort of working from the bench could lure you into false safety. Erik would take using barbed wire to rip the windpipe out of some berserk racist with a gun aimed at a teenager over that anytime. "A telepath trying to lecture me about morals, you know … That’s rich. You won't be the only revolutionary with clean hands in history. They’ve taken that choice from us the moment they chose violence instead of acceptance. All we can do now is show our people how to hold on."

"I don't want that any less than you. Do you not know that?" Charles finally got Guinevere going again with a smooth, light thrust of hips the sight of which was another good reason to go on these suicidal hikes with him from time to time. They'd said their part each; their boiling emotions were already starting to turn into sadness once more. Maybe they actually would end up having some time for each other tonight, if only to chase all these aimless considerations away from each other's heads. Until the next fight. "I don’t want this to divide us, Erik." Stopping next to him, Charles reached over to rest his hand on Erik's on the saddle. "We knew none of this would be easy, from the start, but our goal has always been the same. Safety and peace for everyone."

For once, Erik found, he was grateful for Charles' newest favorite mare being such a typical specimen of the female population of her species, being irritated enough by standing too close to a herd mate that she usually couldn't ever cuddle enough with, to give Lancelot's well-padded behind a harsh bite.

That was as good an excuse as any to steer his gelding aside, no matter how much the missing touch of the back of his hand burned in yearning immediately. Not yet. On the way home, Erik wanted Charles to think about what made life at the Institue so difficult right now before it really did become too late to change anything about it. "Why do you keep hiring people who are actively trying to damage us then?"

"Hank isn't forcing his choice on anyone either." There was a sad plea for the case of one of his closest friends in his lover's grey eyes that had long stopped reaching Erik's heart, at the latest when McCoy had started to experiment on his own damn body in the name of some pseudo-science.

The pure possibility of such a possible cure for what made them all superior was an affront Erik would have killed more important people than some feral for on a bad day. At least if Charles and he could finally find any other doctor even half as competent to help them out when they needed it. But in some regards, he'd still not managed to cure his lover of his damn bleeding heart, and sometimes he doubted he ever could. Sometimes he doubted he should. At least one of them keeping a faint connection of empathy to this world that tried to wipe them all out every day over might be the best way to ensure, Erik wouldn't just wake up one of these weeks and reach out for the magnetic field keeping this whole ball of dirt going and rip it to pieces. Not while there was still hope. For all of them, for Charles and him.

Maybe even for lost souls like McCoy who didn’t even realize how lucky they were to have someone like Charles championing for them. "He just wants to live the way it's best for him. You can't make everyone a soldier for your goals, Erik."

"Soldiers is what we'll need plenty of soon. I thought we agreed on that at least." That started to sound far more resigned than annoyed already. It was getting late, and they both had classes to teach, Erik's consisting of exactly the kind of lessons of combat Charles refused to see were the most important skills any of them had to learn right now. Erik couldn't wait on his partner to catch up with the future before preparing for it.

"I never asked you to cancel the special unit program, did I?" Charles tiredly shook his head, his pale cheeks suddenly looking very hollow and wrinkled in the too-bright afternoon sun. Accepting something against each of your convictions was always draining. That experience, they'd both had to make in the course of their relationship more than once. "I'm just asking you to let me do my job, too. Which is to ensure a secure, hidden base of operations for us. And part of that is keeping our façade towards the world. So why don't you just stay with your ass on your horse for the rest of the afternoon for once, let me finish preparing for the military riding tournament next weekend so that I can get the stud for two of our mares I need for next year's dressage offspring and stop questioning each of my steps for five minutes?" Charles' warm, bright voice only softened, when Erik showed him a tired shrug. He rode close enough to him once more to bury his hand in Erik's shirt and pull him in for a brief but very tender kiss. "And when we get to be alone in our apartment tonight? I'll have a coffee or two more than usual and then make you remember you're the only one I love. You do know, make-up sex is the best invention since they came up with telephones, right?"

Erik returned the favor from earlier only too gladly, slipping his hand between Charles' perfect behind and his saddle for a tight squeeze, enjoying that warm tingle in his midsection that promised a few long hours of mindless closeness soon indeed. Which was maybe exactly what they needed to get their slightly disarranged harmonics back into line. "Tell you what, you make that gap to the other side, you even get to top."

Charles' eyes immediately lit up at that challenge that wasn't even one, not for such a good rider and a young but also extremely talented thoroughbred. It would at least be a good exercise for that damn tournament, and that was one reason why they were out here, after all.

While Erik wasn't suicidal enough to rely on his horse having some accidental mountain goat genes hidden somewhere in its cells, it was always a pleasure watching his lover work … Not least thanks to knowing for quite certain, the reward for losing yet another bet of that kind would be waiting in their bedroom in the shape of a couple of scarves, lots of oil and maybe the kind of crop that had never seen a stable before.

"You know, you can just tell me if you want me to fuck you, right?"

"Where would be the fun in that?" Erik just winked at Charles with a grin and steered Lancelot backward once more, for once remembering the right aids to not pull that bit half out of his horse's mouth, and jumped to the ground then. Lazy or not, these creatures still were herd animals and sometimes were only too eager to be affected by the enthusiasm for running by one of their mates, no matter how unsuited the path before them was.

Guinevere had already sensed what was in the air, having done that little stunt before many times, her large mule-ears pointing up and forward in eagerness for a change. She jumped into canter almost from a standing position and started climbing down that descent, leaving a cloud of dust and squirting rocks under her hooves, with Charles high in his stirrups once more, clinging to her long black mane like a cat, his cheeks flushed, a wide grin of adrenaline on his lips. When it happened, it came so fast, none of them would be able to tell in the end, why. Maybe a loose spot in the uneven ground that hadn't been there two days ago, from someone else climbing the damn pit, or the stupid horse had been startled by its own shadow and lost its step. All Erik knew was that Charles was suddenly no longer sitting in his saddle, that Guinevere had slipped for some reason, right before reaching the pit's bottom and reared up in fright, and Charles was falling … Only Charles wasn't falling at all because the strap of his goddamn stirrup wasn't tearing off as it should, and his foot was caught in the damn thing, and when the horse was back on all fours, its rider was caught in a highly dangerous position by its side upside down.

His eyes wide with shock and fear, an ice-cold fist of dread punching into his guts, Erik reached out to the ugly scene with his powers, already about to grab the damn stirrup, do something … Only he couldn't because he was too far away for such fine manipulation on a wildly moving object, and if he made only one wrong move now, he would injure Charles' already painfully twisted looking leg even more … That damn strap had to give in any second now … He waited just for one second too long, a second that would haunt him for the rest of his life.

When Charles' horse leaped into a run again, scared by the situation and Erik reached out again with a curse, he didn't manage to grab the stirrup anymore for far too many long moments. Instead, he was forced to watch the mare drag his lover through the sharp-edged field of rocks and earth and debris that was the pit's ground, Charles' body trapped like a doll's by its side and being flung around easily as one.

Getting back on his own horse and following Charles would undoubtedly have meant facing the same fate. In his growing horror, all Erik could think of, especially since he'd never had less focus on his own powers to be able to levitate with the necessary speed, was to reach out for all he could manipulate with his gift in reach and try to stop the panicked animal in the distance with a brutal pull back against both the stirrups and the sharp bit in its mouth. It should be the last mistake today.

Only even more out of her mind with fear and pain, Guinevere reared up once more, almost vertically. Charles finally came free of that damn stirrup, crashing down hard right beside his horse. Free of her upsetting ballast, the mare started to run off again immediately, her left hind leg hitting square into Charles' back as she did.

By the time Erik got there, shaking from worry, with anger on himself, in a panic he wouldn't allow admitting even to himself when he realized, Charles wasn't getting up, the horse had climbed the other side of the pit and was nowhere to be seen. His own might probably have fled too at this point, and Erik had no fucking idea how he should get his badly injured partner at home immediately if he didn't find back his focus on his damn powers right away … But none of that counted at the first moment, not with Charles laying in front of him unmoving, half his clothes in rags from that grinding, his back cut open in dozens of spots so badly, Erik's hands were dark red with blood by the time he'd hectically ripped some makeshift bandages from his own shirt and pressed them down on the wounds with as much pressure as he dared. "Charles? Talk to me, please …" He knew he should be moving, that they should basically be half-home already, but a warning voice in the back of his head whispered, after a fall like this, he couldn't just pick Charles off the ground if he didn't want to risk even more damage than what he could see right now. More than far too much raw flesh and at least a very badly sprained or maybe even broken knee and ankle.

His trembling voice seemed to have got through to his lover somehow anyway, because his lids started to flutter, a tortured groan coming from his lips. "Erik …"

"I'm here." Erik quickly reached for his partner's aimlessly scrambling hands and rested his own against the side of Charles' far too pale face. His lover was orientated, he was at least not screaming his lungs out so maybe that whole thing had looked worse than it was … Erik just had to give him a minute to catch his breath and keep him from going into shock, then he could bring him home, and the next moral discussion they'd have in their damn bathtub. "What was that about staying on your horse with your ass, huh? And here I was promised make-up sex tonight."

Charles didn't smile. Charles looked more afraid than Erik had ever seen him in his life. "Erik, I can't feel my legs."

"So you're telling me, you're being entirely useless. Again." Hank found with cynical surprise that he preferred unhinged, aggressive Erik to this heap of pure despair crouched on some chair next to his patient's bed, his whitish face buried in his hands, his riding clothes still stained red and his voice an empty echo of lingering shock. When the guy wasn't even in the mood to criticize Hank for his pure gall to live, things were really bad.

"Says the one between us who watched him shatter three vertebras." Hank's own voice was missing a lot of its usual bite toward the guy as well. He finished a last note in Charles' patient file before storing it back in its pocket at the bed, then got rid of his lab coat, suddenly extremely eager to get to his car. He'd never been able to deal well with the taste of defeat on his tongue.

"You didn't even try," Erik spat his way, with so much helpless wrath of the heavens in his face, Hank might have been unsettled any other day, given the guy had more than once threatened him in these very rooms with a blade before. But today, neither of them was in the mood to fight. Today, both of them would have to live with the knowledge of having failed.

"I know every single device in this room, Lehnsherr, both ours and the Shi’ar equipment." Hank tiredly leaned against the wall on the other side of the bed, not even trying to make eye contact that neither of them could have been able to stand right now. He rather stared at that half-naked, awfully thin, and pale-looking shape of the man between them who would spend the next few days sleeping off the worst of the pain before the much worse kind of agony would start to set in.

The agony of the first time afterward. The beginning of a kind of life where nothing was like it had used to be.

Hank would have given a lot to spare someone he liked to call a close friend, in spite of his sometimes murky methods of working, that kind of fate. But sometimes, regardless of all, they were all capable of and even all the powerful help they'd got for their cause in the course of the years, they were powerless against the laws of nature. Against a kind of biology that a body without a healing factor like Hank's was not able to trick. "I checked and repeated everything his doctors did. Thrice. As much as it pains me to say, there's nothing on this planet that can make him walk again. You know exactly, Empress Lilandra only gave us a fraction of her tech. She thinks humanity is not ready for the rest."

"Then we go to her." Erik gritted his teeth only harder. "If she cares for him as much as she claims, she'll have her people heal him."

"And how do you think we'll get there? By zeppelin?"

Hank was too tired even to flinch at Erik's aggressive growl or the way he punched out with his powers, leaving a remarkable dent in a filing cabinet in the corner. For once, he didn't hold his lack of rationality against the guy.

Hank felt a little like punching things himself right now. "There's no one who can take us. No ship on this planet is capable of flying us even out of this galaxy, even if Charles was willing to manipulate an organization like NASA for his own personal needs, and you should know best, he never would. Besides, the Shi’ar are millions of lightyears away. From what I gather, he has no way of contacting the Empress. We'll have to wait until they decide to stop by Earth next."

"That can take years." Erik buried his face in his hands again. This time it wasn't only anger that had his shoulders shake as the faint scent of salt in the air revealed.

"I'm sorry. I truly am." Hank forced himself to turn away because, for the moment, he'd done all here that he could. Reaching the exit, he hesitated for the first time ever since he knew this house, wondering if he should stay for a couple of nights. Charles' and especially Erik's goals were too far from his own to think about switching jobs permanently but given his old friend's condition, he wasn't sure he wanted to trust Erik with taking care of his partner, even with machines that were doing half the work for him anyway.

He wasn't sure he wanted to trust Erik, period. For that, he'd seen the guy turn his back on people no longer of use to him too often.

"You're not gonna leave him over this, are you?"

"Not all of us run as soon as things get difficult, McCoy." Well, that at least sounded like Lehnsherr again. Maybe such a bitter kind of consolation would have to do tonight.

"I'll hold you to that." But when it came to the inevitable, many years later and, in Erik's defense, over nothing that had to do with Charles' handicap, Hank never did.

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#no.24 #Blood covered hands #“I don’t want to do this anymore.”#x men #fic #everything after x2 didn't happen sue me #x men original timeline movies #cherik #magneto #charles xavier #long post #aka the riding accident #more screaming into void #hank mccoy #stormys fanfics #all the credits for the horsenames go to dear akira #whumptober2022 #whumptober 2022

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