Charles' face stretches into a smile at Kurt's outburst. He tilts his head to look at him, allowing his hand to drop from Moira's face entirely as he rests back against his elbows and listens to Jean fill Kurt in.

He feels exhausted, mentally and physically. He wants nothing more than to sleep for days, or years, if it were at all possible. Unfortunately, he cannot.

The day's events have heightened his telepathy, making his mind more sensitive, more uncontrollable, and the buzzing of those around him is more than enough to keep him awake. He can feel all their emotions, their pain, their relief. In his weakened state, it's almost too much to bear.

He has to, though. Has to bear it, to be able to act as a source of stability and strength for his students, his family. It's what's expected of him.

He takes a deep breath, ignoring the ache in his temple, and looks around. From the corner of his eye, he spots the deep blue of Raven's natural form. He sees one of Apocalypse's horsemen next to her, looking awkward and out of place, and Charles immediately picks up on the anxiety in her mind; the uncertainness. He smiles at both of them, opening his mouth to say something before shutting it seconds after, eyes widening slightly as he sees the third figure join them. He shifts his body, turning more comfortably to the opening of the room, and stares.

"Erik?" His voice is a quiet whisper, raspy. His throat is tight around the word, his usual grasp on his emotions slipping while his body still hums with Apocalypse's impact. He feels an absurd urge to cry, but he pushes the feeling down, using the onslaught of everyone else's emotions as way of explanation.

Clinging to Erik's arm is Peter, his face contorted in a look of pain, a spare hand holding onto his thigh. Charles glances at the obviously broken leg before sending Hank a look, who moves towards Peter immediately. Erik waits until Hank's laid Peter out on the ground, medical jargon already tumbling from his lips, before finally approaching Charles.

He still wears the helmet, but Charles doesn't need to see into his mind to understand the apologetic look that resides in his eyes. In fact, Charles is glad Erik wears the helmet. The impact of looking into the other man's mind while in his current state is… something he'd rather not think about. The complexity of Erik's thoughts, his emotions and memories, affects him enough when he's in complete control of his power.

Sighing, Erik kneels besides Charles' form, well aware of the numerous pairs of eyes pointed their way, some confused, others not. Besides Hank's muttering and the occasional gasp of pain from Peter, the room is silent.

"Charles." The name escapes him in a breath, his voice barely audible. He drags his eyes down the ragged body, jaw clenched tightly. "I…"

Charles shakes his head to stop him from saying the apology that was likely to come. He's already forgiven Erik, if he's honest with himself. He's too exhausted to fight, cares too much about him to want to. Besides, from what he'd gathered from the other's thoughts, Erik had done enough to redeem himself.

He notices the residue of tears against Erik's cheeks, his curiosity sparking at the sight, wanting to ask who, why, when, but he doesn't. Rather, he allows his hand to reach for Erik's, fingers enclosing around the man's wrist, keeping him there, at his side. The action says more than words would've, and he's glad to see Erik relax just a bit at the touch.

When it comes apparent they won't say more, everyone starts moving again. Charles' alertness fades in and out, but from what he does notice, they're figuring out how to leave where they are and go home. He's not quite sure if they get a new plane, or if someone fixes their original plane, but soon enough there's an aircraft waiting for them.

Instead of helping, Erik stays by Charles' side, eyes flicking from Charles himself to the ruins that surround them. He keeps his hand with Charles', for which the telepath is grateful. He focuses on that hold, the steady heartbeat distracting him from the increasing ache of his skull.

When someone shouts back that they're ready to go, Erik sends him a questioning look. Charles nods at the unspoken inquiry, and Erik reaches to grab him. He slips one arm around Charles' back, the other sliding under the bend of his knees. When Charles' arms are wrapped securely around his neck, he straightens, moving towards the plane.

Again, the others watch them. Charles can feel interest sparked in some of them, fascination at how gentle Erik's movements are in comparison to what they had been before.

There's a spot ready for him on the aircraft. Erik drops him into it carefully, moving away only when Charles settles. He turns to take a seat, but stops at the last second, choosing instead to kneel down next to Charles. As everyone else takes their places, readying the plane for flight, Erik finally removes the helmet from his head. As suspected, Charles is immediately bombarded with thoughts and emotions, his mouth opening in a silent gasp as the feeling.

He can feel Erik's concern immediately, and smiles softly when the man asks if he's okay.

"Fine," Charles says. "Just… He did something to me. I can't quite control it yet."

"Does it hurt?"

"My head feels as if it's going to implode."

Erik purses his lips, contemplating as he looks around the plane, its body shaking slightly as they start to lift off the ground. "We're going to be flying over thousands of people," Erik murmurs. "You'll feel them all."

"Most likely," Charles replies. The thought isn't a pleasant one, his head throbbing at the mere idea of flying past those people at such a fast speed, the emotions and thoughts in his head flicking between different people with each second. "Perhaps you should have left me unconscious."

"So you could've slipped away entirely?"

"I doubt that would've happened," Charles answers, though he's not quite sure it's true. He scrunches his face up slightly as more people enter his range, shaking his head against the voices. "How long will this take?"

"Hours." Erik sighs again, his hand twitching as if to reach out and touch Charles, soothe him. He doesn't do it.

"Brilliant." The word is said through slightly clenched teeth, obviously sarcastic.

Erik stares at him, face contorted in thought. After a moment, he picks up the discarded helmet and shifts closer to Charles. "Here," he says, lifting the metal close to the telepath's head. "Try this."

At any other time, Charles wouldn't. He hates the helmet, hates what it represents, but if it could help… well. He takes it reluctantly, leaning into Erik as the other man places the helmet on his head. Immediately, his mind goes silent. There are no voices, no emotions or thoughts that aren't his own. It draws a gasp from him, the unusual quietness something he had never experienced, not even while on the serum.

"Better?" Erik asks, voice low in the small space between them. His lips twitch as Charles nods, obvious relief colouring his face.

He's still exhausted, and his head still throbs with a migraine, but it is undoubtedly better. He moves his head around, testing the weight of the metal. "How do you wear this all the time?"

Erik's smile grows as he replies, "It's more comfortable when you have hair."

Charles' face turns to him, eyes narrowed in a mock glare. "You ought to let the wound heal before making jokes, old friend. Have some manners."

Erik laughs, the sound loud and surprising on the small plane. "Don't worry, I'm sure there'll be more."

Charles' face softens at those words, at the subtle promise of more.

"Of course." Then, "Do you mind if I fall asleep?"

Erik shakes his head, "You look like you need it."

Charles shifts to lie down, and Erik acts as a human pillow, allowing the man to rest against him. It's uncomfortable with the metal barrier, but Charles feels calmed all the same.

"Don't scare the children."

Erik huffs a laugh, "What else do you expect me to do?"

"You can think of jokes," he murmurs. "To harass me with when we're home."

Charles squints his eyes open to take in Erik's reaction at the word home, glad when he spots the small smile. To his surprise, the other man reaches for his hand, grasping onto it the way he'd held Erik's before, loosely, his fingers enclosed around the wrist, enabling him to easily feel the pulse there.

"My mind's already bustling with ideas."