Chapter Text
Erik knows it makes more sense for him to do the night stints, but it doesn’t mean he enjoys it. He knows he’s the most experienced, he knows Raven’s vision will only outweigh his ability to sense other cars for so long, he knows Charles is more useful in the garage during nighttime with his telepathy uninterrupted.
He still prefers driving in the morning, he’s still uneasy about the other drivers during the night, knowing they either don’t have visibility or they’re trying to take advantage of anything and risking themselves or other cars.
Still, he jumps in during the night, when Raven’s vision abandons her. He manages to stay out of crashes, he manages to detect and let the Hypercars and LMT2s pass by him in frightening speeds, he races past crashed cars and debris. He abuses the chaos for the necessary pit stops, and he gives them a decent advantage, Hank all but howling in his earpiece and Charles letting his excitement buzz in his mind.
When the sun rises, Hank finally calls for a driver change, Erik has to stop himself for making the car fly to the pit. His thoughts wish Charles good luck as he rushes off the car and into the garage, Charles disappearing inside as the mechanics are changing the tires and adding fuel to the yellow and blue Porsche. By the time Charles goes flying, Erik’s legs can barely keep him standing.
He has to use his powers to remove the helmet, his shoulders don’t allow him to raise his hands enough, as he slowly drags himself to the changing rooms to peel off the yellow overall. Normally, he’d use the morning break to change into something more comfortable and catch some sleep, but he can’t shake away the feeling that something will go wrong today. He just unzips the overall and hangs it on his hip and walks back to the screens. Hank’s eyes are pinned on the screen, he doesn’t hear Erik walk in and lean again the wall.
Erik’s eyes go on the screen, on Charles driving smoothly the car around the track. He can’t explain it, he finds it almost hypnotic to watch Charles drive, so smooth you can’t tell how fast he’s going. Normally, in all other races they’ve had together, Erik sits back and enjoys Charles. Today, Hank’s mumbling catches his attention.
“Charles? Charles, I said there’s some debris on T12, do you copy? Charles, do you copy?” he starts speaking clearer, blue fur standing as the sole indicator of his worry. Charles doesn’t answer.
“Is the radio dead?” Alex asks, earning a glance from Hank. Both quickly turn to Erik.
“I didn’t notice something, but we mainly used Charles during my stints,” he says, trying to remain calm. His eyes go back to the car, to Charles driving completely isolated and seemingly oblivious to the fact. He hears Hank and Alex call Charles again and again, Charles never responds.
“Charles is experienced, he can handle it. When it’s his time to wrap his stint, we’ll mentally scream at him, he’s bound to hear,” Raven points out from her seat. Erik wants to agree, he wants to have the same faith. He doesn’t trust the other cars.
Hank and Alex are still fruitlessly yelling at their microphones when Charles gets trapped behind an LMP2. No blue flags are enough to make the car let Charles pass. Charles follows patiently at first, but then he starts moving the car around behind the LMP, more and more desperate to find an opening, any opening. Erik’s heart nearly jumps when a second car traps Charles from behind.
“He needs to get out of this. It’s a recipe for a crash,” Erik snaps, making Hank and Alex frown at the scene before resuming their yelling. Raven stands up, leaning against the table and watching Charles struggle to free himself.
“We have to do something, we have to help him,” she whispers, her fingers digging on the wooden table. Erik watches the car, the map. Charles is near the turn for the pits, maybe Erik can make the car turn, maybe he can guide him to the pits with his powers. It’s worth a try anyway.
Without a word, Erik runs to the pit, ignoring the cars stopping and passing through in front of him and focusing on Charles. He feels the car approaching, the smooth metal racing closer and closer to the turn. Erik sinks his teeth into every part of the car, preparing himself for the move. He needs to be precise, Charles is slow because of the cars around him, but the danger is there. Erik closes his eyes, raises his hand, takes a deep breath and pulls.
He doesn’t feel the metal give in against the concrete, he barely notices the loud ugly crash of the collision. He realises something is very wrong when he feels Raven’s scream send shivers down his spine.
He runs back to the screens, his blood freezing when he sees the car. A pile of metal, the original shape indistinguishable, as if melted against the concrete. He doesn’t see Charles get out.
“They’re sending a medical car, what the fuck happened? He never crashed like that,” Hank rubs his face, pushing his glasses up against his forehead.
“He’s not getting out, why is he not getting out?” Raven questions, her voice frantic, her hands shaking.
“I- I only tried to…” Erik’s tongue has turned to lead, his eyes are pinned on the screen, begging for Charles to walk out and shake off the dust and debris from himself.
A new wave of panic fills all four of them when they feel Charles in their head, his presence unstable and shaky as his pain and panic bleed into their minds. But it’s the words he sends that make everyone freeze.
«I don’t know what happened, I had full control and then the car moved. I can’t… I can’t feel my legs, I can’t feel my legs,»
Hank is screaming at his mic. Alex is throwing up on a rubbish bin underneath the desk. Raven is weeping, struggling to utter a single word. Erik is frozen like a statue, the realisation sinking into him like a spear in his heart. He did it. He destroyed everything.
Everything is a blur. From the moment Charles made contact, everything bled away. Erik isn’t aware when the medical car carried Charles into the pit, into the ambulance waiting for him. Erik blinks, and he’s hearing Hank scream at him that their chance is gone, that the car is ruined and Charles will be hospitalised, and it’s all his fault. Raven doesn’t look at him. The next moment, he’s in front of a journalist, explaining that communication was lost, that he tried to guide Charles to the pit. He barely registers the journalist asking if he thinks mutant powers are dangerous in the races. When Erik opens his eyes again, he’s in the hospital, following a doctor into Charles’s room.
Erik feels sick when he walks in, the mere smell of antiseptic and the fluorescent lights make his breath get caught in his throat. He struggles to maintain his composure when he sees Charles, bed bound and covered with wires and tubes, gauges and plasters around his torso keeping him pinned on the bed. His neck is covered in a thick collar, tubes emerging out of it as well. Charles’s head is free from wires, but still covered in bruises, his eyes closed and his face frozen in a deep wince.
Something inside Erik makes him want to run, away from his husband lying on that bed, the hospital, his mistakes. His legs remain frozen against the cold tiles, stuck in the middle of the room. He stops breathing when he sees Charles slowly open his eyes, glazed and tired.
Slowly, like drowning, his head starts feeling warmer, as if trapped in an embrace. The familiar feeling of Charles’s powers gets interrupted by pain, by the pins and needles from his stomach and downwards, by a dull ache in his back where surgeons cut up to save whatever they could, by a sharp pain in his throat that stops him from breathing. Then, Charles’s inner voice, muddled with fear and pain and confusion.
«Jesus Christ, when’s the last time you ate or slept? You’re still in the overalls… go to the hotel, take a shower, eat, sleep, and come back tomorrow. Please,» Charles begs. Erik almost wants to laugh, Charles is hospitalised with a broken back, and he’s worrying about Erik, as if he’s not the one who put him in that hospital bed. Erik doesn’t dwell on that thought, not in front of Charles. He takes a deep breath, trying to choke down the lump on his throat.
“I’ll be back first thing in the morning. Please get some rest,” he almost doesn’t recognise his own voice, small and scared. Charles remains still in the bed, almost like a statue. After a few breaths, Erik finally turns around to leave Charles for the night. Charles sends a weak wave of affection for a goodnight, Erik merely hums before he closes the door behind him.
He doesn’t remember how he got to the hotel, how he managed to climb up the stairs to their room. He only remembers seeing the empty hotel room, smelling the stale air still carrying the faint aroma of Charles’s deodorant. Erik’s legs, after who knows how many hours, give in, and he drops to the floor. Then, he weeps.
They removed the tracheostomy sometime before Erik’s arrival the next morning, Erik almost flinched when he heard his name from the bed. Involuntarily, he smiles a little as he approaches the chair on his husband’s bedside.
“You look like shit,” Charles points out. Erik knows he’s not wrong, he barely slept at the empty hotel room and just had a coffee on his way here. It’s by sheer fortune that he wears normal clothing. Erik feels Charles’s mind wrap itself around his consciousness. Normally, he loves the feeling of Charles in his head, today it breaks his heart.
“Charles, I’m sorry,” he whispers, too scared to reach out and take Charles’s hand in front of him. Charles frowns at him.
“Please, please, don’t pity me. I can take it from the nursing staff, but not from you,” Charles begs, his voice smaller. His eyebrows furrow further when Erik shakes his head.
“It’s not pity, I… It’s my fault. I moved the car, tried to get you to the pit. This is all my fault,” he hates that he feels his voice breaking, that his vision grows cloudy with unshed tears. He doesn’t want to cry, not now, not in front of Charles.
Charles sighs and tries to move his hand, Erik moves quickly to hold the cold palm on the bed, careful not to squeeze.
“Can you promise me you won’t look at me like I’m your fault?” blue eyes pierce Erik as Charles speaks, his powers taking hold of his head. Erik tries to speak, but gets interrupted, “Can you?”. With a deep breath, he nods slowly, feeling Charles release the hold on his mind and relax.
“Good, can you get closer, I want to hug you, and I’m not supposed to move. Not that I can, being strapped on the bed like Hannibal Lecter,” Charles offers a slight smile, his attempt at humour carrying a bitter aftertaste. Erik still snorts and scoots the chair closer. Charles’s torso is covered in equipment, Erik feels the screws in his back, keeping his spine stable. But Charles’s legs are free from medical equipment, free from anything worse than a bruise. Erik puts his palm on Charles’s thigh, giving a gentle squeeze.
“You can touch me, I won’t break,” Charles raises an eyebrow.
“I am touching you,” Erik responds, giving another squeeze in Charles’s thigh. Charles opens his mouth to argue, but is interrupted by a light cough coming from the door.
Erik stiffens the moment he spots the doctor standing there, holding a file with both hands. He feels a tendril of Charles’s powers in his skull, a whisper asking him to calm down. With the corner of his eye, he sees Charles attempt a polite smile.
Erik couldn’t focus on the pleasantries between the two of them, but his attention is fully on the doctor as she clears her throat and walks closer.
“Yesterday’s operation went smoothly, we’re expecting a full recovery from your part. There are some minor rib fractures, which is why you might have some difficulty breathing for a few days, luckily no concussion. Our main concern is your spine, but we’d like to do some scans to see the extent of the damage,” she started explaining, her face turned to Charles. As if in queue, people in scrubs circle Charles’s bed, disconnecting machinery from the wall and preparing to move him away. “We’ll only need a few hours, you could go outside and take a breath of fresh air as you wait,” the doctor adds as Charles is taken away, his mind slowly disconnecting with Erik’s.
Erik stands up slowly, suddenly eager for the fresh air, when the doctor calls him. “I’m sorry, sir, may we have a few words?” her voice is softer now, more private. Erik has to take a few breaths before turning around to face her. “You’re Mr. Xavier’s husband, correct? His immediate family?” she asks. Already, Erik feels his heart racing.
“There’s a sister as well, but yes,” he has to clear his throat before speaking, to dictate each word slowly to avoid showing a tremble.
“I just wanted to inform you, it’s too early to know what the effect of the injuries could be, we’re expecting anything. And, be mindful, this is something we inform all family members whose abilities can interfere with a procedure. You may have noticed, he has metal in his spine. It’s important for it to remain as undisturbed as possible,” despite the soft tone, the calm, — or perhaps due to it — Erik feels his hands clutching into fists, something dark and vicious bubble up in his chest. He has to breathe slowly once, twice, before he can nod curtly, thank the doctor and flee outside as fast as possible.
Raven is on the room when Charles comes back, on a chair on the opposite side from Erik’s, glaring at the man like he’s a piece of shit she stepped on. Erik, on the other hand, keeps his eyes steady on the tiled floor. Both turn their gaze to the door when they notice Charles, Raven’s demeanour relaxing immediately while Erik tenses even more.
“Raven, you’re here,” Charles smiles as they put the bed back in its place, watching her smile faintly as her golden eyes fill with tears.
“Of course I’m here, how are you feeling?” she immediately moves her hand to cover his palm, squeezing reassuringly.
“My head’s killing me, you can’t imagine how loud an MRI machine is. Fucking torture,” he snorts, cheering inside when Raven chuckles as well. He hears Erik take a deep breath, he feels the words forming in his mind, a response about how he could check Charles’s spine faster and without the noise. He instead exhales the air silently when he notices Raven’s violent glare, a silent instruction forbidding him from opening his mouth.
Charles doesn’t know if he should be more worried about Raven’s rage or the fact that Erik is just defeated.
“Anyway, who won?” Charles asks, trying desperately to lighten the mood. Raven frowns, Charles doesn’t need to touch her mind to see the lecture coming.
“Shaw, Frost, and Azazel. The grey Ferrari,” Erik speaks finally, barely audible. Charles is about to comment when Raven snaps.
“You two are unbelievable! You’re in a hospital, and you care about the fucking race?!” she yells, jumping off her chair and pacing, her scales rippling around like waves in a storm. Erik looks back at the floor, squeezing his palms together like a child scolded for breaking a window. Charles has to fight the urge to follow suit.
“Raven, please, sit down,” Charles remains calm, level. It only enrages Raven further.
“No, the fuck I’m not! You’re in the hospital, you had fucking surgery on your spine and who knows how the recovery will be, and you’re acting like it’s a fucking hangnail! And the cunt who singlehandedly got you into this mess has the audacity to sit here!” her voice grows louder, echoing painfully in Charles’s skull. He almost doesn’t have the energy to focus on the words she’s spewing.
“For god’s sake, this is a hospital, stop trying to one–up Sean at screaming,” Charles snaps, keeping his voice low but sharp. Raven stops mid-step, watching Charles with wide eyes. Then, slowly, carefully, she returns to her seat. This time, she doesn’t reach out to Charles’s hands.
Charles sighs, opens his mouth to apologise, but stops when he sees the doctor return with the file. She remains calm, polite, but her mind is carefully shielded. A tactic taught in medical school to prevent telepathic patients from reaching out and finding a disastrous prognosis, he knows. It makes his palms break out in cold sweat.
She speaks calmly, reassuringly. She keeps telling that he can gain a lot of his independence, that he can learn how to drive again, that this is not the end of the world. Before she could finish the word “paralysis”, Erik had already stormed off to the bathroom and Raven was already weeping. Charles remains frozen, as if she’s speaking a different language.
He can’t hold himself back, he makes her shields crumble like paper and takes in everything. Physical therapy, house renovations, he’ll have to learn how to exist all over again. The injury is incomplete, he’ll still feel pain, he’ll have spasms, he’ll probably need a muscle relaxant to keep himself in his wheelchair. Fuck, he won’t even be able to take a piss like a normal person!
He gasps when he returns to his head, to his broken body. He fakes a smile, he politely thanks the doctor and watches her leave. Once she’s closed the door, with Raven’s sobs and Erik’s retching echoing in the sterile room, Charles starts screaming.