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Chapter Text

   Moira Mactaggert fires her gun with the precision of an executioner, and Erika Lensherr deflects the bullets that rain down on her like hellfire with the precision of someone who is desperate to see this through to the end. The bullets veer off course, altered by the metal benders will, but a bullet always finds a way to its mark regardless. Shrapnel buries itself near the base of Charlotte Xavier’s spine, and everything seems to explode at once.

   Erika has enough time to snap back into focus, to hear a startled cry escape Charlotte’s lips, hear her go down with a sickening thud, and a pit forms in her stomach when she realizes she’s not getting up. Time itself slows as she throws herself towards her beloveds direction and drops down on her knees, her hands hovering and waterlogged like she's made of glass. Charlotte squirms, tries to find leverage against the hot sand, her beautiful blue eyes spilling with tears as they lock onto hers. Erika feels her own eyes sting as she gathers her up into her arms, murmuring pleas and apologies into her long brunette hair.

  "I didn't mean to, Gott- I'm so so sorry...." She murmurs, and suddenly she feels as though she's a kid again and that she hasn't come that far at all, Sebastian Shaw’s presence breathing down her neck beyond the grave. Charlotte gasps something in response, blood spilling from her full lips instead of words, and suddenly she's reaching upwards, fumbling for Erika's helmet as if she's stumbling in the dark. She lets her, and once it's discarded on the hot sand, her mind unravels. 

  Pain and anguish seep into the cracks and seams of Erika's brain, ingrain themselves into every inch of her being. Hot phantom pain spreads from the small of her back and climbs like tendrils up her body, her joints locking up, then tingling, then going numb, and she realizes too late this is the mildest projection of what Charlotte is feeling in the moment. It leaves her dazed regardless, bending over the girl's body in order to gain composure and missing the moment she tries to speak.

"It wasn't meant to be this way." And it’s honest.

"..Erika.."

"I only wanted to- I wanted to show them what it was like." And it’s nothing but the truth.

"..Erika."

"I wanted them to hurt for what they did to us. To you." And it’s bitter jealousy at the entirety of the human race.

"Erika."

Erika stares down, words caught in her throat. There's something in Charlotte’s eyes, something in what she's projecting, that spells a bad omen.
  It takes 5 words for everything to go wrong.

"I can't feel my legs." Something just above a whisper, like it's a secret, like it's unbelievable, like it's taboo.

5 words, and Erika Lensherr's world crashes and burns.

Chapter Text

  Disturbingly, Erika isn't immediately aware of the gravity of their situation. It comes slowly, in pinpricks, in dawning realizations. It takes a while for Erika to realize just what it means for Charlotte, atleast for the foreseeable future, to have lost all feeling from the waist down.

 She has a revelation, a grim one. Humans, mutant or not, are expected just months after they're born to complete a checklist of basic functions to be deemed healthy or generally thriving. Incoherent babbles turn into basic words, crawling on all fours turns into walking.
  Walking. It's one of those things people take for granted, something they don't even consider they do because it just happens, and now Charlotte has been robbed of that. But who exactly robbed her of that ability, she's much less inclined to consider. Moira MacTaggert seems like the obvious choice, stupidly waving her gun in the direction of an individual who can distort tons of metal with a thought. But it's the most convenient choice, because Erika does not wish to consider the possibility she was the one to wound her, however real and more likely that possibility is.

  Erika gathers her impossibly close, yearning proximity and the comfort it provides. Charlotte for her part seems to be slightly calmer as she draws closer, if the telepathic vice grip she has on Erika's being is anything to go by. She raises her eyes, wild and grieving. She watches the waves gently lap the shore, she watches Moiras hands tremble to keep her gun steady as if it weighs an impossible amount, she watches...their teammates. They stand just yards away, all equal amounts of shocked and terrified, but unwilling to move. Erika must've used her powers to hold them back in the crossfire, and if it were up to her it would've stayed that way, but now there's nothing but a single thought etched into every atom of her being; Charlotte Xavier must not die.

  "Don't just stand there- help her!" She yells, sharp and raw and pleading. Beast Girl is the first to reach them, enchanced as she is in this otherly form, but Mystique is not far behind, rushing to meet her fallen sister with a kind of fear in her eyes that has not been observed before. It does not fail to make Erika nauseous. They all file in around them soon, hovering, terrified. Mystique and Beast Girl go back and forth with eachother and Charlotte at times, when she can keep her breathing under control for short bursts, but the kids stand largely huddled in an awkward heap, and Erika realizes with a start that that's exactly what they are. A bunch of children, strangers to war and strangers to its very real consequences, forced to bear witness to it despite that. She sees herself in them, and her stomach flips on itself once more.  At some point someone actually suggests calling for help, Erika's mind is too foggy too detect who that is, at some point they help Charlotte into a more comfortable position in the sand, head still pillowed on Erika's lap, and the only thing she can do is stare.

  There's a fleeting moment of serenity in the chaos, where the crowd fizzles out, running in all direction to do something, where it's just her and Charlotte once again. There's a fleeting moment where Charlotte's short, panicked breaths even out, and her eyes gaze wistfully at the shore, taking it all in. Erika stares too, hand against the brunettes cheek, tracing the outline of her soft jawline with calloused fingers.
 "I've always wanted to come here for vacation." Charlotte admits, sounding strangely guilty at the confession. Her voice is paper-thin and equally frail, but Erika hangs from her every word regardless. It means she’s alive despite everything, but for how much longer?

  Erika, whether as a means to placate her, or in a honest show of interest, considers it. It's not a bad place to take a break, despite all the memories they now harbour from it. "Perhaps we can return one day. When this is all well and truly behind us." She does not even begin to consider the worst possibility. That Charlotte grows calmer and calmer as the minutes since her injury tick by, slow and agonizing, and Erika can feel every drop of blood she loses the more they wait.

 "That would be lovely darling." She can almost hear Charlotte's smile, though she does not dare look down.

  The rest of that day comes in broken snapshots in Erika's mind. She hears sirens not long after, she remembers her hands tangled in Charlotte's hair, she remembers Raven shooting her a knowing look as they both loom vigilantly above the telepaths head, she remembers the bright fluorescent lights and the antiseptic scent of the hospital. The last thing she remembers is Charlotte being wheeled away, away where Erika can't see her and can't be with her, past twin white doors, their creaking hinges announcing her departure like the death rattle of the dying. She remembers holding Charlotte's gaze as she goes, her eyes glazed over and barely open and uncharacteristically lifeless.

 The moment they're well and truly separated is the moment Erika's recalling of events filters out like TV static, and if it were up to her she would have been unable to recall the event in it's entirety.

Chapter Text

 Days later, Erika could still see the blood in her hands despite knowing it physically wasn't there. Not Shaw's blood; his death was drawn out but neat, courtesy of the coin meticulously pushed through his brain. It's her blood that's coated her hands, crusted and old yet unrelenting in every attempt she's made to wash it off. It sticks like a disease; underneath her nailbeds, ugly red blotches soiling everything she touches. It's not physically there, but Erika is hyper aware of the metallic notes that pollute the air she breathes, that coat her entire being. She decides tonight that it has to go away, that she will scrub away every molecule of her being if it means getting rid of it.

 The sad alarm clock on top of the nightstand reads well past midnight when she rouses from short hours of fitful sleep. She lurks around the halls like a shadow, muting her footfalls as much as possible like she's an invasive force in the hotel room. The bathroom is not hard to find, the only door cracked open a slight, and she slips inside, successfully unnoticed. She looks at herself in the mirror, face bathed in the warm yellow tones of a cheap light fixture, notices that her eyes hold a certain resignation and guilt that they haven't held in years. And then she scrubs.

And scrubs.

And she thinks.

 She thinks of plunging herself in dark waters in reckless abandon. She thinks of being pulled out of the black tar by warm, merciful hands. She thinks of a game of chess. She thinks of a giant satellite dish. She thinks of a beach in Cuba. She thinks of a coin and a bullet penetrating flesh like a hot knife through butter. She thinks of wavy brunette hair and brilliant blue eyes. She thinks of soft curves and pink full lips. She thinks of her, and the blood feels all the more impossible to get rid of.

 "Is your plan to hog the bathroom all night?" She startles at the voice beyond the door, familiar confidence and sass laced with the heavy blanket of recently disturbed sleep. Raven opens the door, abrasive and invasive as per usual, her blue shades stark contrast against the washed out bathroom, yet not unwelcomed. She rebels in small ways, after the conversations they've had, and especially after the beach. She's glad to see her as she truly is, small mercies in these trying times.

 She prepares another quip, ready to exile the brunette from the bathroom maybe, but before words fly out of her parted lips she notices something that Erika failed to observe first.   Almost comically, perhaps more sardonically, they look down in perfect synchronization at the bathroom sink.

The water filling the bassinet, now dangerously close to overflowing and spilling all over the off-yellow tiles has turned a pinkish shade, and her hands are red and raw in every place the sponge has touched them. Mad red welts climb up all the way near her elbows, dots of crimson forming in some particularly irritated areas. They stare, once at the sink, then at Erika's hands, then at each other, both equally and positively aghast.

"What are you doing?" Raven asks, rather dumbly for someone of her nature. So dumbly in fact, Erika has no way to answer her. She breathes, in for two, holds, then releases, tension bleeding from her shoulders. The look in her bright yellow eyes is unreadable, though she looks significantly less perturbed than she did before. “Jesus Erika…”

It's then that she fully enters the bathroom in long, quipped strides, more alert than she was minutes ago and pushes Erika out of the way, not entirely unkindly. She fumbles for the bathroom cabinet, grumbling about 'cheap hotels' and 'not waiting to go back to the mansion' and Erika would've found her show of entitlement all too amusing if she wasn't too busy staring down at her hands in astounded shock.

 “You really blow me away sometimes, you know that?” Raven says with a sad shake of her head, herding the metal bender towards the toilet after some time, a hand against her shoulder easing her to sit on top of the closed lid.

 "Sit down, buckethead." Raven says, having gained her colorful attitude back some after assessing the situation. Erika does as she's told, the blue girl kneeling down in front of her in kind, hands hovering over her own. There's a medicine kit cradled in her lap, and Erika mutedly decides that Raven is right, this really is a sketchy hotel. Though she's gone through too many of those, much too many in comparison to the mutant kneeling in front of her surely, and it's by far not the worst she's had. Things, generally, could be a lot worse.

They sit in silence for the most part. A hiss here and there, when antiseptic is applied to particularly volatile welts or when her hands are jostled in some ways, but they die down as Raven becomes more confident in her care. The pain is muted now, mild static noise in the back of her head, but the sudden lack of small talk makes her strangely jittery. There's so much she wants to ask, has to ask if she has any hope of sleeping mildly soundly at night, but lacks the entitlement to do so. She decides to be selfish, for once.

 "How is she?" Erika focuses on the white gauze being wrapped meticulously around her fingers, once, twice, too afraid to observe exactly how Raven's face will contort when she answers.

 "She had to get emergency surgery for..." Her voice fades off into the silence, hands faltering around the long line of white cloth. She's no idea how to talk about it, how to get used to it, and perhaps neither of them will for a long time. "She woke up today. She's in all kinds of painkillers, obviously, but they'll try to wean her off of them by the end of the week.”

 End of the week. She's suddenly hyperaware of how much the days have passed her by. She looks up, somewhat dazed. "How long has it been?"

 "Four days. It's a Tuesday.” She adds helpfully, the fog blanketing Erika's mind since everything happened dissipating somewhat.

 "And her legs?" She asks, despite herself. There's a tone of childish hope she hasn't had in years, dead and buried in some ditch back in Germany. 

 "They said she'll be the judge of that when she's properly aware of her surroundings. But between you and me, they didn't look particularly hopeful." And God, Erika should've known, she shouldn't have even bothered to ask because back there on the beach, it was glaringly obvious. She looks down at the bathroom tiles like they've personally wronged her.

 "You should visit her." Raven adds when she's sure the metal bender has nothing more to say, leaning forwards, crossing her hands and trying to make a show of authority, like she can intimidate Erika into bending the knee to her will. The lack of steady eye contact breaks that visage.

 "Now why would I do that?" And if it was anybody else but Raven, they'd have taken offense to that. But Raven has always been insightful enough to read between the lines, a trait not unlike her sister's. It's not that Erika doesn't want to visit, it's that she's entirely unable to, facing an impossible battle with her own festering guilt while she tries to wade through the days with moderate success.

 "She asked about you. When she woke up I mean. I'm sure she was thinking of you for much longer than that though." She smiles, sounds offended, but Erika knows she isn't. If anything, she must be relieved. She can't possibly understand why that is.

 "It doesn't have to be tomorrow. You can't be what she needs if you're uncomfortable, or still reeling from everything or whatever is going on in that giant dense head of yours, but she needs us. Most of all you, if you can believe it. Lord knows I can't." And Erika scoffs, sincerely, like she hasn't had in a couple of really long and arduous days. They smile together, for a short fleeting moment.

 "Way to comfort a woman."

 "I try...but seriously. Please consider it. If not for her then for me." And fleeting as it is, the moment is gone. Raven's smile falls, her brows creasing as she frowns again.

 "You make a strong case for yourself." She tries to keep the atmosphere light, tries to avoid the unavoidable, but the elephant occupying the room is persistent on not leaving, and Raven is stubborn like a mule as per usual.

 "Erika."

 They hold each other's gazes for a few agonizing moments, caught between a standoff of perseverance. Perhaps weighed down by fatigue, she relents, the guilt she's been bearing like a cross coming down on her walls like a wrecking ball.

 “I'm terrified.” And it's simple, but the confession in and of itself feels even more mortifying when it leaves her mouth. It hangs in the air, putrid and polluting, and it takes Raven aback when she hears it. She leans back, blinking hard once or twice, eyebrows furrowed.

 "Of what?" And Erika can't bear the sincere confusion in her words.

 "Of what she'd think of me. Of what I did.” Any confusion behind the mutant's gaze dissipates as quickly as it formed. She's still frowning, lips set in a thin pursed line, but for an entirely different reason now it seems.

 “I can't believe that's what you've been losing sleep over.” Erika, entirely unguarded and overly self conscious, bristles for no particular reason.

 “What-”

 "You know you're the only one who blames herself for what happened right? Obviously you wouldn't know, considering you've been avoiding everyone and everything like the plague but, no one blames you. Least of all her.” Erika is taken aback by how sincere she sounds. It's hard to believe, considering how much she'd probably fallen from the team's favor after the missile crisis, but Raven would have no reason to lie to her all the same.

 “Why not?” A small, dumbfounded thing.

 “How dumb of you to ask that.” She says, much more sad than she is offended or appalled. “She loves you. I mean, she was about ready to crawl off the bed and check herself out when I told her I hadn't seen much of you. Do you really need a better reason than that?” And it would be hard to believe if it was anybody else but Charlotte. Charlotte Xavier, who gives her whole soul and even more for the world, even when she herself is facing an impossible ailment. Charlotte Xavier, who plunged into an ocean to save a mutant like herself knowing there was a real possibility she could die attempting that. Charlotte Xavier, dazed and disoriented on a beach in Cuba, begging Erika to spare the fleets that almost rained hellfire on them. Charlotte is everything and perhaps even more, she decides right then and there, in a cheap bathroom of a cheap hotel smack dab in the middle of Havana. Raven must think so too, because when Erika looks into her eyes full of confusion and dismay and pure unbridled love, she just shrugs her shoulders, a fond smile on her face. Though, there's something else hiding behind Raven's striking yellow eyes now that they're properly looking at each other, entirely unrelated but properly weighing on her conscience.

 She realizes suddenly that these past few days, for the short gracious periods of time when Erika's brain fog dissipated some, that Raven had been acting strangely. Initially, it was easy to chalk it up to her being worried about her sister, and perhaps it's not entirely false, but Erika understands now, staring eye to eye on the bathroom floor, that there's something else to the thoughtfulness the blue mutant has been engrossed in.

 Perhaps sensing that dawning realization, Raven breaks eye contact rather harshly, focusing on the contents of the med kit now that her work is done. She puts everything back in its proper place, slowly and stalling. This time, the metal bender does not relent.

 “I need to say something.” She says with finality, having had enough of Erika staring her down, she guesses.

 “Go on.”

 “About the beach. Or well ,everything I guess.” She pauses, nervous as she fumbles with her loose hair strands. “The things we've talked about, the things you said, back there.” She meets Erika's eyes again, hesitantly and entirely unlike her, and the brunette fumbles some. Of course. Erika would be lying if she said it hasn't been plaguing her thoughts in kind, what's supposed to happen next for them, however much she's been thinking about Charlotte's predicament these past days. She'd sooner go mad than leave her high and dry when she's like that, but ultimately, her and Charlotte would never be able to see eye to eye regarding their ideals, and it was within reason to ponder about what they'd do once their paths misaligned. Still, Erika had her doubts if this was a good time to be discussing their next course of action, horribly aware of the fact that the telepath was barely out of the woods just yet.

 "Now is really not the-" But before she can finish the shapeshifter covers her bandaged hands with her own, and her mouth closes suddenly, teeth clacking together awkwardly.

 "I know. I know. But, when the time is right, just know I'll be right behind you." When Raven dares to meet her eyes again she looks significantly more confident, eyes set in cold determination. Raven, much like her sister, never fails to astound her.

 She sighs, steels herself. “Is that all?”

 “That's.. it.” Raven nods sheepishly in response, and Erika's shoulders drop some, because that definitely could've been more difficult than it actually was. She finds it much easier to smile first this time, giving the mutant kneeling in front of her an encouraging nod. 

 “I'd be glad to have you, Mystique.”

 Raven's eyebrows shoot up, minutely shocked before straightening herself. She looks light, much lighter than she's been in days, and Erika realizes then that this is the beauty of being understood. “And I you, Magneto.”

 “Then it's decided.” And there was that. The last of the tension bleeds from her shoulders, glad that despite it all her and Raven are still on the same wavelength. Charlotte would never level with her ways in that regard, which the telepath is entirely entitled to be, but she's glad there's someone else who understands. It's a precious moment in all of the bleakness, a merciful light at the end of a dark tunnel.

 Raven rouses then, dusts herself off and files the medicine kit away. She spins around, crosses her hands and motions towards the door with a jerk of her head. “Alright, slumber party over, I really need the bathroom.”

 “Wouldn't dream of keeping you waiting.” She expels a content sort of sigh as she too rouses to her feet, meeting Raven's smile as she passes her by. She tosses a soft goodnight over her shoulder as she goes, twisting the doorknob behind her with a thought until the door shuts with a satisfying click.

 She returns to her bed much lighter than she left. The alarm reads nearly 6 AM, and Erika sees the first shades of dawn from her window as she settles, ready to sleep well into the afternoon.   She finds it's much easier to sleep at night when one is reassured that they're loved.