There was a silence.

"I could do with some food myself, Erik," Charles said. "Is that a possibility?"

Erik said nothing, just turned and walked out the door, obviously expecting them to follow. Charles gently extended his hand to Zara, and after a moment, she took it and they walked out together. They walked in silence, Erik up ahead, waiting for no one.

Zara felt oddly calm. So many things had become clear for her in the last hour. It felt dark and enticing. She had her own power, and it was strong. She had taken pain for most of her life, and now she knew that she could give it back. She had stopped Erik with his own thoughts, and when that had no longer worked, she had taken Charles—Charles crashed back into her memory, but a tiny bit of Zara smiled. She didn't blush, she didn't stammer, she didn't turn to him and apologize. She had done what she had to, just like Charles, just like Erik. Things were different now. She was different now.

She could feel her connection with Charles once again. Finally he was here, and she had been ready to cut his throat. She could reach out to him, let him into her mind, and this horrific jumble of hours would finally be past.

No. She would not, could not have that kind of bond with Charles right now. She had hurt him. It had been her choice. She would live with it.

Charles angled his head slightly towards her, but didn't say anything. Zara kept her eyes on Erik's back. Fortunately Erik turned a corner and they walked into a large kitchen with table and chairs pushed over in a corner.

Zara saw a loaf of bread, grabbed it and began tearing off chunks and shoving them in her mouth. There was a block of cheese on the counter. Charles went to it and after looking for a knife, also began breaking off pieces. He put a few in front of Zara, and then offered one to Erik. Erik shook his head.

"So," Charles said, keeping his voice soft, "what do we do now, Erik?"

Erik shrugged slightly. "Stay. Or go."

"You know I can't stay, Erik."

"Then go. I'll have Azazel take you back. Zara, once you make the choice to stay, it's for good." Erik took steps towards the door.

"There is another option, Erik," Charles said quietly. "You could come back to the school."

Erik smiled. "The school, Charles? That's the last place I belong."

"You belong with us," Zara said suddenly. Charles looked at her and Erik turned slightly. "We should stay together. It's the right thing. Neither of you will say it, so I will. I've seen your minds, both of you. You love each other. And...I love you both." Zara thought for a moment, then realized she could only say one thing. "So, talk about it." And she left the room, taking the rest of the bread with her.

Zara stepped outside into a completely different world. The dingy corridor was gone; there was sunshine and blue skies and everything you would want to see in a country meadow. A pond nearby had ducks and ducklings, and she laughed with delight, running over to watch them swim and preen. Her bruises were gone. She took off her shoes and planted them in the water so the little minnows would nibble at her toes. Everything felt so much better, no pain, simply peace. She laid back, feet still in the cool water, and tried to figure out the shapes of the clouds sailing by.

Back in the kitchen, Charles took his fingers away from his temple. Erik had not moved.

"We're alone now," Charles said in a low voice. "No one will come in."

"This isn't an ideal location," Erik said, his gaze flicking around the kitchen that was full of sharp edges and hard surfaces. "Come with me." He walked out and Charles followed.

Charles spared one glance towards Zara. Her face was relaxed and there was a faint smile as she enjoyed the vision he had given her. She was safe, and he looked back to Erik, following as quickly as he could through a maze of hallways. He knew they were close when Erik began melting doors shut behind them, and he stumbled with desire and felt himself begin to harden. Finally, finally Erik opened a door and they were in his bedroom.

Erik turned and Charles was on him, hands on Erik's shoulders pulling him down for a hard kiss, a kiss that had been forever coming and that tasted hard, metallic, and so, so sweet. Erik's hands were already under his shirt, hot and roaming, his nails barely grazing over Charles' nipples so that Charles cried into Erik's mouth as he kept desperately kissing, pulling Erik's body over his so that he could kiss his throat and down across Erik's collarbone.

Charles was all the things he never allowed himself to be: demanding, possessive, giving in to passion that was tinged with anger-why had this taken so long? Erik matched him and more, to the point where all Charles could do was hold on, hold on to Erik's hard body and try to give back all that he was getting. He was hard, rock hard, and he shoved his hand down to Erik's groin to feel, with a teeth-gritting joy, that Erik matched his own need and more. Erik's hands slid down to Charles' belt buckle and opened it with one smooth motion. Charles panicked for a moment, tensing in Erik's arms: were they going to do this? He was going to be naked in front of Erik, and they would-yes, they would, he wanted this, a deep wanting that made him feel as though all the cells in his body were pushing him forward.

Erik tightened his embrace, and one hand went to Charles' head, brushing back the hair from his already sweaty forehead. "It's all right, Charles, it's all right," he murmured. Then he stopped all at once and stepped back, leaving Charles cold. Erik's own pants were around his hips, and Charles could see Erik's erection pushing forward.

"Charles..." Erik panted, his voice low and growling. "Do you want this? Do you want me?"

Charles was so in the grip of desire that he had to force the words out. "Yes, Erik, yes, I want you, I want this, please-" and he was ready to beg. Then, his face hot with a blush, he realized there was another way he could show Erik how much he wanted this...and, shaking, he knelt, half on top of his own pants, and reached for Erik again.

It was unlike anything he had ever done or ever felt. Charles wanted to recoil at first but then the sound Erik made encouraged him to keep going. It was a higher pitched whine, one that Charles had never heard before. It pushed him forward and onward, his tongue sliding, his mouth insisting. Erik moaned, a beautiful sound, and his hands were running through Charles' hair, his fingers gently scratching the back of Charles' neck. Then he was pulling Charles up again, and they kissed again, desperately passionate.

The world dissolved into sensory overload, there were only hands, lips and and the hot contact of skin on skin. Then he was kneeling and Erik was inside him, it was pain and violent pleasure all at once, and Charles shook until his arms would no longer support him and his head hit the bed with his hips still in Erik's firm grasp. Charles cried out, his fingers scrabbling against the sheets, and then he felt Erik's hand on him, stroking him, and he came, rearing his head back and bucking in Erik's grasp until they both fell prone, shaking, trembling, and connected as one.