Watch Me Fall Apart - Dark!Cherik

"It's a very groovy mutation." Charles continued, still pointing at the ginger's hair. Erik was his name, as Charles discovered by taking a peek into the man's mind.

"Is that so?" Erik licked a drop of beer off his lower lip very slowly, almost as if he did it on purpose for Charles's sake. It was working. Erik turned on his barstool, his mouth curled in the slightest smile.

"That is very much so," He extended his hand, pleased their meeting had started so swimmingly. "Charles Xavier, at your service."

"Erik Lehnsherr." They shook, and the older man's touch was electric. Erik's thoughts were so loud that Charles received them without an effort, as if they were being thrust at him. He saw images of a concentration camp and of unimaginable torture inflicted on a child. Erik. He felt strong emotions of grief, anger, agony and revenge. And finally, a distant and warped memory of an iron fence folding to a boy's will.

Charles let out a light chuckle. "A metal-bender. Splendid."

Erik's brows met. "I beg your pardon?"

Charles did not release Erik's hand. He passed his thumb over the older man's bruised knuckles. "Let me tell you something my friend: you are not alone."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, I have a mutation as well. A real mutation, nothing to do with hair or eyes. Among other spectacular things, it allows me to read your mind."

Erik cackled, baring shark-like teeth. Charles felt his disbelief, then the realisation that if Charles was pitching such an unorthodox way of getting in his pants, there was probably something behind it. "Alright, then. Read my mind."

"Very well," Charles lifted two fingers to his temple to help him focus and he entered Erik's mind. "You want to invite me back to the hotel you're staying at, The Blue Rose, then make me dinner, A.K.A. order room service, then we will snuggle on your bed and play a nice game of chess."

"Sounds excellent, doesn't it?" The shark-man grinned, then glanced toward the door. Shall we?

After you, my groovy friend. They stood and left the bar.

Now look around this lonely town,

Where every smiling face just brings you down.

The Blue Rose. Room service. Snuggles. Chess. Charles enjoyed it when his pick-up lines worked. Of course he would, because that was the whole point of pick-up lines.

"No reading my mind, alright?" said Erik, placing the metal pieces onto the board as Charles sat next to him at the table. The chess board had to be set at an uncomfortable angle to accommodate their seating choices, but it was a sacrifice they were willing to make.

"I don't cheat," He adjusted his cardigan and peered at his white pieces. He finally moved a pawn forwards and sipped his brandy carefully. Erik insisted on refilling his glass every time Charles finished half of it, which had already been two or three occasions. He had lost count. This was a bad sign, so he did not touch the glass again, as tempting as it was. "Check." he said after several minutes. Charles almost reached for the brandy, but he hid the twitch his hand had made by leaning his head against Erik's shoulder. Erik's arm wrapped around Charles's waist and he immediately felt safe.

They had only met hours ago, but he had seen Erik's mind. Despite his unfortunate childhood and his frightening desire for revenge, Erik was a good man inside and he felt comfortable with Charles, who was the first mutant he had met since Schmidt. The two of them were no longer strangers.

Erik moved his king out of the way at the warning. Charles moved his castle and Erik's queen took it down. Charles felt a numbness in the tips of his fingers and sighed. He was drunk. Slightly. It happened a lot. Raven always accused him of being a lightweight and, well, it was true.

One thing that happened a little too often was the loss of control of his powers. The nearest mind's thoughts were broadcast to him at a volume that only occurred when he read someone's mind on purpose. When he was drunk, he got the full blast of it. In this case, it was Erik's thoughts that he heard as if they were spoken aloud. Charles's mind was now filled with a single idea: revenge on Schmidt and the Nazis. In a torture-filled fantasy, Erik's enemies experienced similar pain to what he had received when he was a boy. After a minute or two of silence, Charles could not stand it anymore. The words came out of his mouth in a drunken slur. They were not something that he, or any sane person, would say to a holocaust victim if he were sober.

"They were just following orders."

"What?" mumbled Erik. He was probably unaware that he had been thinking such thoughts. From what Charles could tell, it was a regular occurrence in the man's mind.

"The Nazis. I understand your anger with Schmidt, but the others were just following orders. They do not deserve to be harmed in the way you would prefer."

The pure rage that surged uncontrollably through Erik startled Charles. He sat upright a split second before Erik's fist met his jaw and Charles fell off his chair, stunned. His entire face was numb, not from the brandy, and stars flashed in front of his eyes.

Erik knelt next to him, lifted him into a half-sitting position, then struck him again, this time under his eye. Charles cried out this time but Erik muffled the sound with his palm. There were other people in the hotel. There were other people in the hotel! Charles thought of reaching out to them, but he could not. Between the brandy, the shock and the dull pain, he could not direct another's mind, not even Erik's. His abilities were out of control. He would have to endure the abuse for now, until he was sober or...he hoped for sober.

"They were just following orders? Well, Charles Xavier, I've been at the mercy of men 'just following orders'," Erik lifted Charles into the chair. A thin metal chain floated through the air towards them. It broke in half, then bound Charles's wrists to the arms of the chair. He winced at the tightness. "Never again." A knife raised from the suitcase on the bed and landed in Erik's outstretched hand. He pressed the point against Charles's cheek.

He froze, but he could not stop his own trembling. He tried desperately to enter Erik's mind and take control. He lost focus. "Please, Erik you don't have to do this. I did not hurt you. You can be the better man. Please..."

"'Please'?" repeated Erik, baring his shark teeth. The knife moved downwards, leaving an inch-long cut in Charles's cheek. He whimpered, but did not look away from his offender. "Do you know how many times I told them that? I lost count. I was a child, Charles, no older than fifteen. The Nazis did not stop. And you ask me to spare them?"

"I'm sorry, I was wrong. I was wrong to say that to you." said Charles, the slur leaving his voice. Erik, stop. Be the better man. He knew Erik had heard him, but for now it was only a thought, not a command. It resulted in another beating, then another. Blood trickled down his neck. His breathing had turned into wheezing puffs. He could not feel his face. Erik, stop!

"I'm teaching you a lesson. It will be over soon."

Charles eventually lost consciousness. But it was far from over.

You let it slip, so get a grip,

There's no one else to blame for this.

Ow.

Aside from that, Charles noticed several things when he woke. He was naked, which was odd. He was in water, which was warm. A wet towel sponged at his face, which stung. He opened his one eye feebly. One eye because his left had swollen to a point where it impaired his vision, and it hurt like nobody's business. The rest of him was stiff and it was painful to move even his big toe.

Erik leaned over him, dabbing at the cuts on his face with a white towel, which was now stained with blood. Charles tried to stand, but reminded himself halfway through that he was naked, so he ended up splashing around helplessly and his aching muscles protested.

"Shh..." said Erik in a soothing voice. He pressed against Charles's bare chest, easing him back against the corner of the tub. "Entspannen. Relax."

Erik stood and turned towards the sink. Charles realized for a third time that he was naked and this time attempted to cover his private areas, but he gave up, knowing Erik had seen it all.

"Drink." said Erik as he returned to his side and put a glass of clean water under Charles's nose. He was thirsty, but did not want to drink Erik's water. A simple glance into his mind showed that it was drugged. The metal-bender had seen how alcohol had affected the telepath's abilities and intended to mimic the effect with a small dose of mild anaesthesia. It would not knock him out, but it would keep him numb and powerless. That glance into Erik's mind also revealed that he would force the water down Charles's throat if he did not cooperate. So he left Erik pour the water carefully into his mouth until the glass was empty.

When the shark was pleased, he pulled Charles out of the water, dried him off and put his clothes on with as much care as a mother would give to her infant. It was not until the process was over that he realized he was not wearing his own clothes. They were Erik's: a navy turtleneck and beige slacks, both pieces slightly large on him. They smelled like Erik, too: metal, sweat and something else, something completely his.

Charles let Erik guide him out of the bathroom. "Have you learned your lesson yet?"

"Yes." he murmured, his surroundings a blur.

"Are men 'just following orders' still to be punished for their crimes?"

"Yes."

"Liar." Erik threw him to the floor. He did not try to get up. He only waited for his own punishment, watching the ceiling above shift back and forth.

Charles gave a start and his eyes snapped open when he felt a sharp pain in his abdomen. Erik had just pressed a bandage to his fresh wound, caused by the same blade that had cut his cheek. Erik had kept cutting and hitting until Charles passed out a second time.

"Argh!" said Charles, clutching at Erik's shirt.

"Entspannen, Charles. Entspannen," Erik gathered Charles in his arms and lifted a glass to Charles's lips, forcing him to drink. He choked on the sour-tasting water, but downed it all. "Good."

Erik carried Charles to the bed. He felt his eyelids closing already, yearning for needed rest. Erik lay next to him and they fell asleep in each other's arms.

Stick around and watch me fall apart,

Watch me lose the game that I made up.

Charles blinked lazily. Light streamed through the gap in the curtains. He felt as if his head had exploded and he was sitting in its remains. He took a deep breath and realized he was not in his own bed, nor was he wearing his own clothes. He furrowed his brows, then remembered what had happened the night before. Where was Erik?

As if on cue, someone approached him from behind and touched his shoulder. "Did you sleep well?"

Charles said nothing, for Erik would not approve of his answer. He made a move to sit up, but he was in too much pain and decided against it. However, Erik helped him, folding his body in a painful position in order to swing his legs off the side of the bed. Charles was dizzy at the sudden shift in arrangement and leaned against Erik's shoulder.

Erik extended his arm away from them and a metal room service cart topped with several different kinds of breakfast foods rolled towards the bed. If Charles was being fair to himself, he would have admitted that it all looked delicious. He knew Raven would be all over it in seconds and he had the sudden guttural feeling of homesickness. And he had no appetite.

Erik began to notice this when he declined every bite he was offered. "Aren't you hungry?"

Charles gestured towards his bruised jaw, the first injury Erik had inflicted on him. "Can't chew."

Erik leaned close to him and Charles felt the German's breath on his neck. Then Erik kissed him where it hurt and it was suddenly all better. Charles let a smile tug at his lips, then a familiar glass was pushed into his hands. "Drink."

Charles's stomach twisted at the sight of the drugged water. He brought the glass to his lips, pretended to take a sip, then lowered the glass again. I will drink it all, my friend. That had fooled Erik. The older man stood and walked to the bathroom, leaving Charles alone. This was his chance. He got to his feet clumsily and tip-toed to the door. He felt his heart pounding harder than it ever had before. He did not know what Erik would do to him if he was caught. That was why he had to succeed.

When Charles reached the door, he tried to turn the handle, but it would not budge. The metal moved under his hand, locking the exit from the inside. He gasped in horror and turned around. Erik stood outside the bathroom, staring at him with an expression that bordered on disappointed.

Erik, let me leave. The metal-bender had no choice but to obey. Charles's abilities had returned to him. The handle returned to normal and the door swung open one inch. Charles turned to leave, then glanced behind him. He regretted it.

The look on Erik's face broke his heart the same way as his first love, Annie Bertoia, had. Charles could not physically or mentally leave this poor man, who desperately needed someone yet was a danger to everyone. Charles would never live with himself if he left. He had to see this through to the end. So he closed the door and released Erik's mind.

After doing so, Charles slid to the floor, weakness striking him like a disease. He buried his face in his hands, waiting for Erik to punish him for trying to escape. When nothing came for a minute, Charles risked a peek from behind his fingers. As soon as he lifted his head, Erik's arms wrapped around him. It was not to suffocate him or to keep him still while he was to be tortured, but it was a hug. Charles understood that Erik was not experienced in the matter, and that made it even more significant for them.

They sat there, by the door, for almost a quarter of an hour, then Erik brought him the untouched glass of water. "I don't trust you yet. I would like to, but I don't."

Charles took a deep breath, and said goodbye to the control of his telepathy as he drank the water. He wanted Erik to trust him, because then maybe he would stop hurting him and Charles could try to set the man's mind straight.

Stick around and watch me fall apart,

Watch me fall apart, watch me fall apart.

Charles woke before Erik the next morning. His body ached again, an effect of the drug and the beatings from the two previous nights. He opened his eyes. His black eye had already begun to heal. Yesterday, Erik had given him an ointment to put on his wounds. It felt better, but he would have preferred not to have to heal anything in the first place.

Erik did not wear a shirt to bed, not even one of his precious turtlenecks. Charles had not cared the first night, but now in the morning, the light almost bounced off Erik's muscles, illuminating him with an angelic glow. Charles reached out with a curious hand and rolled his knuckles gently over sculpted abs. His gaze caught on pale white scars etched permanently into Erik's skin as constant reminders of his tormented childhood.

Charles was fully awakened when Erik's hand sprang like a snake and grabbed Charles's wrist with strength that almost broke his bones.

Charles knew they were both as frightened as the other, so he entered Erik's mind in order to avoid startling him with spoken words. I did not intend to harm you. I am sorry for alarming you, my friend.

"Es tut mir leid." apologized Erik. He loosened his grip on Charles's wrist and kissed the palm of his hand. He stood and walked to the table. He refilled the glass of water and brought it to Charles, who did not need to hear a command before he drank it. It was colder that day, and tasted more sour, but he finished it for Erik's sake, then placed it on the side table.

Erik was already pulling off Charles's turtleneck. The too-loose collar released his head without brushing any of his injuries and it was a fairly painless procedure. He lay still as Erik cleaned the deepest knife wound and taped a clean bandage over it with expert hands.

Erik lay next to him and pressed his lips to Charles's jaw, then whispered in his ear. "What do we do to men who were just following orders?"

"We punish them anyway." said Charles, his tongue slurring. The drugs were already kicking in.

"Why do you think the Nazis did what they did?"

"They were doing what they had to do."

"Well, put yourself in the place of the child. Do you want revenge?"

"They were doing what they had to do," droned Charles. A moment later, when Erik froze, he realized his inebriated mistake. He heard a snap, felt his nose break, tasted blood in the back of his throat. "Erik, don't!"

"You speak the truth when you're drunk, Charles. I can't help but believe you." Erik pulled him into a sitting position and sat between his legs. Their foreheads touched. Erik's finger stroked a single line down his spine and Charles hoped for a moment that he had been forgiven. He was wrong.

After Erik's touch came a sharper, white-hot stroke on his back. A knife point punctured his skin, hardly deep enough to scar, and dragged down his spine. Charles hissed in pain, but did not dare to move or even speak, for the slightest mistake could enrage Erik and end in his own paralysis.

They sat still for what seemed to Charles like hours. The next time Erik touched him, it was a gentle stroke up his jaw to the lobe of his ear. His face was cupped by large hands, then tilted up. Erik kissed him, his lips chapped and tasting of metal. Charles shivered, every muscle in his body tensing. Soon he relaxed into the poison kiss and the knife that dug into the base of his spine was almost gone from his mind.

Stick around whilst I default the loan,

Watch me reap the pain that I have sown.

"Alright, then. Read my mind." said Erik Lehnsherr, sitting at the barstool, fingering his tall glass of beer.

"Very well." Charles lifted two fingers to his temple to help him focus and he entered Erik's mind. He saw what was buried in Erik's subconsciousness. Brandy. Torture. Charles. Perhaps the older man did not even know what he was thinking. All the same, Charles felt the colour leave his cheeks. His blood pumped at a deafening volume in his ears.

"Well?" said Erik. "What do you know about me?"

"Everything."