Disclaimer: I do not own the X Men

A/N: SPOILERS FOR X MEN APOCALYPSE. READ AT OWN RISK

I'm planning to make this into a series of one-shots. They can each stand on their own, but will also be connected and in the same in-fic 'continuity', if you will.

Again, MAJOR SPOILERS for the end of X Men Apocalypse.

Part 1: You're Safe.

Eric would never forget landing on the floor of the semi-demolished house in Cairo. He had seen Charles Xavier crippled, drunk and devastated. He had thought he'd seen the man broken before, but this was something new. Charles was battered, bruised, bloodied and bawling. He was struggling to get himself back under control as he gripped Moira's hand and lolled his newly bald head, swallowing tightly and straining against the ground in discomfort as he tried to stop the flow of tears. Eric approached as the shining blue eyes started to lose focus and roll back into his head.

"Charles? Charles?!" Moira rasped in panic around her own tight throat. The telepath's chest heaved slightly and he grimaced as he fought a losing battle to stay conscious. His grip on Agent Mactaggert went slack and Moira lunged forward, the memory of losing him once already still fresh in her mind. The redhead—Jean—put an arm out to calm her.

"It's alright," she assured her even as she exchanged a grim look with Hank, "He's going to be alright. He just needs rest…and time,"

Eric stood over his battered friend a moment, studying the broken skin and forming bruises with horror. Slowly he knelt, the others edging back to give him space. Guilt swelled and he closed his eyes briefly with a sigh. When he opened them again he carefully reached out and slid one hand around Charles' shoulders and the other beneath the atrophied legs. No one argued with him as he lifted the unconscious telepath from the ground to carry him to the plane personally.

On the way they passed Raven and Quicksilver leaning against the rubble where Beast had left them. Storm crouched next to the blue woman, apparently tongue tied in the presence of her hero. Raven's yellow gaze was still glazed, but she started at the sight of the battered Charles out cold in Eric's arms. Storm put an awkward hand on her shoulder, uncertain whether she should be moving. Yellow eyes bored into Eric's and he looked down in guilt before nodding to her; the two of them understood one another well enough for this to make her relax. Reassured that her brother was not dead, she allowed Jean and Storm to each drape an arm over their shoulders and help her back to the plane whilst Hank and Scott did their best to move Peter while keeping his limbs immobilized.

Eric barely heard the boy's cries of pain and didn't see the flash of hurt in Quicksilver's gaze when he failed to so much as look over at him. Magneto was instead consumed by what that self-important blue Monster had done to his friend. He watched the Professor throughout the flight and placed a steadying hand on his chest when the plane hit turbulence. Charles, for his part, drifted in and out of consciousness through the plane ride and the subsequent pit stop mandated by Hank so that he could provide medical attention to their party.

Jean watched the Professor too, though not the same way that Magneto did. She was exhausted, but that didn't impact her vision on the 'astral plane'—nothing but strong psychic shields blocked that out. Her own shields were weakened by her own exhaustion and the Professor's had been all but disintegrated after his ordeal; he couldn't help her block the clamor of voices out and he couldn't hide his psyche from her.

That meant that she saw what the others could not; the X Men could see the bald head, the broken skin on the temple and would see the bruising on his back if his shirt shifted or he changed in front of them. What Jean saw was something very different. In her mind's eye she saw him collapsed in a pool of his own blood, his clothing in tatters, his body alternately swollen, bloody, bruised or at odd angles. Yet through all that damage there was still that grimace of determination and a glint in his eye—It wasn't accurate to say that he was broken…but he was badly wounded.

And wounds would take time to heal.

Get…Get out…No…no…Get out!...Get! OUT!

Erik bolted out of his bed with a gasp, every metal object in his room in the air…every object in his empty room. His large, empty, silent room.

GET OUT!

The shout through clenched teeth blasted in the mutant's brain and he grimaced, grabbing his head in his hands with a grunt. The yell echoed and then faded into the night. The voice was one he knew all too well.

"Charles?" he whispered into the dark, his heart hammering in his chest.

Mr. Lehnsherr? A quiet, vaguely familiar female voice asked tentatively. He frowned.

"…Jane? I mean, Jean," he corrected himself quickly with a bleary shake of his head. The fog of sleep abandoned him and he clenched his jaw as a wave of irritation rose in his chest. "Look, I don't know what Charles has taught you about telepathic etiquette—"

NO! Get Out! NO!

Erik whipped around towards the door.

"Charles?" he breathed again.

He needs you," Jean stated.

"Girl, I will give you one warning—!"

You don't like people in your head. I get it, Jean cut him off tersely, Look, I'm keeping the kids from hearing this, I'm keeping the other teachers from hearing this, I'm keeping the neighbors from hearing this. He wouldn't and doesn't want them to know, but I can't do any more than that right now. He's in his room. He needs you.

Eric felt like he'd been punched in the gut. He swallowed.

"You're a telepath. Can't you help him?"

Do you know how many people are in his range right now? How many minds there are to shield from this? Jean retorted. Apart from…Look, I have my hands full.

"Can't you just…go in there and…"

He could feel the anger from her at the suggestion he was in the process of making.

Think about what you just asked me to do. After everything he's been through. Why do you think I can't help? Right now any psychic intervention will feel like him... …especially me. It's complicated, okay?

The mutant flinched in guilt and clenched his jaw. He was irritated at the girl's presumption and the invasion of his privacy—something that she clearly picked up on. He felt her sigh in frustration and the image that she showed him in response to his reluctance stopped him in his tracks.

His room disappeared and he was surrounded by an eerie blue and white light. He looked around to orient himself and then froze at the other figure he saw. It was Charles. He was standing and that wavy brown hair still hung past his chin, but he also stood hunched over with one hand clutching his side as he staggered on shaky legs. He was covered in half-healed bruises with dried blood caked around his nose and mouth. He was throwing punches desperately, fighting a flickering shadow in the shape of En Sabah Nur. Erik was stunned. Was this what Jean saw with that heightened telepathy? Was this what Charles was hiding from the rest of them?

The image faded and he was once again in the large room. Jean's voice echoed in his mind.

He needs you.

8888

Erik padded through the carpeted halls of the mansion to Charles' room. He heard the lock turn and the door quietly opened even as he reached for the knob. He raised his eyebrows. The girl was good.

Movement drew Eric's eye immediately upon stepping over the threshold and closing the door behind him. Charles was thrashing in his bed; his hands were fisted in his bed sheets as he writhed, trying to escape the False God in his nightmares as he shifted ever further to the left of his mattress.

Erik eyes bugged out of his head and he staggered with a muffled gasp as his mind was bombarded with images and emotions. It was like Charles was drowning, flailing and desperate and latching onto Eric in a frenzied attempt to stay afloat which dragged them both beneath the waves.

He felt his friend's humiliation at his helplessness—first with the Horsemen at the cliff and then as Angel hauled him through the pyramid like a sac of potatoes; he felt his skin crawl when Apocalypse shoved him down onto the slab and let the large, blue hand linger on his chest. He heard the clank as the manacles fastened on Charles' wrists, securing him to the slab—if he had felt vulnerable before with his useless legs, he now knew what true powerlessness was. He felt the rising panic as the slab slowly lifted from the ground and the gold wiring edged ever closer to him…

A thud brought Eric out of his friend's frenzied memories in a rush to see Charles writhing on the hardwood floor.

"NO!" Xavier growled desperately as held his head in his hands, striking at his temple with the heel of one palm "No…no! Get! Out!"

"Charles!" Eric hissed as he bolted to the other man's side and grabbed the offending wrist, trying to restrain Charles before he hurt himself.

"GET OUT! Get off me! GET OFF ME! GET! OUT!"

"Charles it's me!" Eric exclaimed as he struggled with the surprisingly strong cripple. "CHARLES!"

Blue eyes snapped open, wild and wide with terror as he continued to fight off the other mutant with renewed desperation. At first Eric fended off the blows aimed at him with bewilderment before he realized how this must feel to his friend; half awake from a night terror and being held down on the ground by some shadowy figure above him. With a pang of guilt Eric re-maneuvered himself with Charles essentially laid out in his lap.

"Charles! Charles, I'm sorry! It's alright. Charles, it's alright! Charles!" he hissed as he maneuvered and held fast onto his friend in a bid to keep him from hurting himself in his panic, unsure of what else to do. Charles finally stopped fighting him and looked around wildly until their gazes locked.

"Charles…" Erik whispered in a mixture of concern and horror. Xavier was drenched in cold sweat and shook violently with more than just the chill of the nght air. His chest heaved as he came down from the adrenaline spike of his night terror.

"…Erik?" the telepath grimaced, his entire body rigid and the blue eyes still mildly panicked as he grasped at Erik's shirt. The bald man stared at his hand on Eric's chest and he tightened his fingers around the material, focusing on the texture beneath his hand and closing his eyes with relief at this small proof of reality.

"I'm here," Erik assured him as he tightened his grip in what was intended to be a reassuring manner. Charles flinched. Eric wasn't bombarded with a telepathic flash of emotion, but by that point he had a pretty good guess at the root of the reaction and eased his hold a fraction. Charles released his shirt but moved to grip Eric's elbow in a strange sort of apology as his breathing finally started to slow.

"Just a…" he began, swallowing and seeming to force himself to hold onto the other man's elbow to try and show that he did trust him, "Just a…just a dream,"

"Just a dream," Eric confirmed, carefully cradling his shoulders with one arm and resting the other hand gently on his side, keenly aware of holding Charles in a similar manner on a beach in Cuba so many years ago. "You're safe. I promise you, you're safe here,"

Charles still shook and he swallowed again.

"I was…back in Cairo. Back in the pyramid," Charles explained in a shaky, tired moan as he dug the heel of his palm into his temples. Without looking away from him, Eric reached over to tug the comforter down from the bed and pull it over the prone man laid out in his lap. While no longer panting or gasping for air, the telepath's breath still seemed almost labored and even with the blanket guarding against the chilled night air. His shaking had not abated, nor had the tension keeping his body rigid. His reddening eyes were half-lidded, the face pale and lined with exhaustion. He hadn't truly slept in over a week and it was taking its toll on his already battered mind and body.

"I'm here, old friend," Eric said quietly as he arranged the blanket over him. "I'm here and he's gone. He's never going to hurt you again,"

"He enjoyed it…" Charles hissed through clenched teeth, making Eric pause and search his face again. There was anger and revulsion mingled with the pain and terror. Charles' features screwed up with the emotional cocktail as he shook his head and curled his lip, fighting the tears that welled in his eyes.

"I can still feel him in my head—still…he enjoyed what he did. He relished it…he…he…" the blue eyes closed against the experience and took a deep breath. He tried to sit up and winced as his still-sore body protested at the effort.

"Easy, old friend," Erik shushed him gently with one hand on his chest, "Easy. He's gone. He's dead and gone. We made sure of that. He'll never hurt you again. He'll never hurt anyone again. You're safe here. I promise you,"

Charles tensed and continued to fight the tears in his eyes.

"He's still… in here," he whispered with a long groan of a sigh, trying to center himself with mixed success as he avoided meeting Erik's eye, "Whenever I close my eyes I can still…he's not gone. He'll never be gone. He's still—in my head. God, he's still in my head…"

Charles brought the heel of his hand moving down to press into his eyes as he took a deep breath. Erik studied the other mutant, guilt constricting his chest. He saw the telepath wince and knew that he had both picked up on the stab of guilt and was bothered by it. That had to stop. He couldn't get mired in Erik's violent and passionate psyche, not in this condition.

Suddenly an idea occurred to the guilt-ridden mutant and he paused.

"Charles," Erik said, jostling him slightly to make him look him in the eye. It took a minute, but he did. Erik sighed and continued solemnly, "I want you to read my mind. Right now. There's something I want you to see through my eyes,"

Charles frowned slightly and swallowed, peering at him in question but saying nothing. Instead the piercing blue eyes bored into Erik's as he focused on one memory, keeping it to the forefront of his mind: the sight of En Sabah Nur stomping towards the half-demolished building, the sight of Charles sprawled against the wall, now exposed and vulnerable. He wanted Charles to feel what that sight, what that realization had made Erik feel; wanted him to feel rage and betrayal that sight stirred in his chest. He wanted the telepath to see the giant X fashioned from metal beams that had barred the False God's entry to the building and access to his prey. He allowed Charles to see and feel that protective zeal that had finally overridden En Sabah Nur's persuasive power; Erik would never, ever, let a monster like that near his friend ever again. None of them would. Jean and Beast and Raven and the eye-beam boy hadn't just fought for the world: they'd fought for him. They had been willing to put their lives on the line for him. And they'd do so again if needed, no matter what the Professor might say to try and dissuade them. He was non-negotiable to his students; they needed him and they would fight for him.

Charles' chin trembled and he sighed, touched.

"Thank you for that, Erik," he whispered. Slowly the shaking eased and his muscles finally started to release. All the other mutant could do was nod and watch as the blue eyes started to flutter.

"Rest, Charles," Erik bid him, gently repeating one more time, "You're safe,"

The bald man seemed to go limp in slow motion. His head slowly leaned back against the strong forearm cradling his neck and shoulders, his fingers slipping from the elbow they still gripped and his breathing evening out as Charles surrendered to sleep once again. Erik held him gently, protectively, more than willing to be the other man's anchor and guardian if it meant he could get some of the rest he so desperately needed. He readjusted his grip and shifted into a more comfortable position a few minutes into his vigil, adjusting Charles as well and noting that the other mutant didn't so much as stir at the jostling—an observation which both relieved and disturbed Erik.

They stayed like that for hours with the telepath slumped against Erik, his cheek against the other man's chest, his mouth frozen in a sigh against the soft cotton shirt. Erik barely moved after that initial re-adjustment. Charles didn't either; the presence of his friend dispelled the nightmares and his grateful mind retreated deep into itself, past the point of dreams. It didn't seem to the other mutant that it helped all that much. His breathing was slow and even but he still looked far from peaceful.

Erik's mind started to wander. He thought of blue eyes staring at him…more than one pair. Charles…Magda. He'd held Magda like this once. She'd been sick, terribly sick during her second trimester with Nina. They hadn't dared send for a Doctor in case he was recognized. She hadn't allowed it. She'd had a raging fever, a chill and body aches painful enough to bring her to tears. All he'd been able to do was hold her and provide some sort of comfort until it was over.

Thoughts of Magda and Nina inevitably led to that earth-shattering day in the woods. His throat tightened and tears slid down his cheeks freely. His hold on Charles instinctively tightened and he held him close. Unbidden, other memories followed hard on the loss of his family…apart from everything they had been through with En Sabah Nur, he was suddenly on a beach. In Cuba. With this man laid out in his arms, gasping in pain.

…"She didn't do this Erik…"

Erik's jaw clenched at the memory

"…You did,"

He looked down at the telepath slumped against him, at the exhaustion and relief in the still face as he slept deeply, retreating into the darkest corners of that beautiful mind. All Erik could hear was Charles' voice on a loop.

You did…

…You did this…

…She didn't do this Erik…You did

…You did…

…You did this

…he didn't do this, Erik…

… … You did…You did …You did…

Charles' winced in discomfort and stirred, his powerful but vulnerable mind picking up on the other mutant's guilt and pain. Again. As always. Erik sighed.

"Jean?" he whispered into the dark.

I got it. The girl answered promptly. Within seconds the Professor had quieted again.

He won't be able to hear you anymore. I think I've got his shields back up again,

Erik sighed in relief.

He feels safe with you,

"He shouldn't," Erik whispered, taking a long, shuddering breath as he looked around the room, "I've hurt him often enough. I crippled him. I took his sister away from him, I gave him to the monster that nearly destroyed him. I've never done anything but hurt him,"

He doesn't see it that way,

"Well maybe he should," Erik grumbled.

Mr. Lensherr you mustn't—"

"Blame myself? No, Jean. I'm afraid it might be time to do just that. I've spent my life blaming other people, even when something was my fault," he growled. For several long moments there was silence, both physical and psychic. Jean clearly didn't know how to respond. Erik didn't really want a response. Finally, after a few minutes he heard her voice in his head one more time.

… Thank you, Mr. Lensherr. For tonight. For your help.

"Don't thank me," Erik muttered, but she had already withdrawn from his mind. As a matter of fact, Jean stayed out of his mind entirely for the rest of the night.

He stayed with Charles until the telepath woke a couple of hours later. The man tensed involuntarily when Erik moved to lift him, his every muscle seizing rigidly. He couldn't seem to stop apologizing when he saw the look on Erik's face and tried to babble an explanation when he himself didn't really know what had triggered the stab of fear. Erik shook his head and smiled thinly; Charles was the last person who should be apologizing to him. Instead of talking him down this time Erik simply reached out a hand. There was a low hum as he unscrewed and removed two metal drawer handles with his powers and brought them floating over to them.

Charles looked from the two handles hovering in front of him to Erik. The wealth of emotion in that man's eyes didn't need telepathy to shine through. Still tired and lethargic, he gripped the offered aids with determined effort and allowed Erik to lift them and him up from the floor to what would have been his natural height, dragging him along the floor a little until his calves brushed the end of the bed and then lowering him back down. The telepath collapsed against the mattress and gave his friend a tired nod of thanks as he pulled his legs up onto the bed and started to drift off again. Erik slid a pillow beneath his head and re-settled the blanket over him once again without a word, watching him for only a few minutes before slipping back out of the room.

Xavier didn't surface from his room until mid-day, apologizing to students for having slept in. No one minded or was particularly surprised; even the vast majority who had no idea of what he had gone through expected him to be worn out after the insanity of the past week or two. They expected that the poor man had probably been up for days—and that was all that most of them expected, apparently. Jean had done her job well: no one else seemed to have been woken by the telepath's nightmare. Few except those who knew the professor best seemed to even suspect anything more serious was going on than a need to catch up on sleep. Charles worked hard for this effect; he was calm, charming and assuring to parents, comforting to students and forced himself to smile and charm those around him in an imitation of his former self. He even made light of his hair loss with several of the students and parents who met with him. He achieved the desired effect. The children and parents were reassured and satisfied. They didn't notice the lingering tension in the shoulders or the struggle to maintain the carefree façade. Even if any of them suspected that more had happened it was a comfortable lie that they were happy enough to accept. It was an easy lie. Much easier than the truth.

The truth was that Charles would never be the same.

And it was Erik's fault.

Charles needed him, but if he stayed the other mutant would soon be the one comforting him. That wasn't what Charles needed. That wasn't what anyone needed. If there was ever a time for the telepath to focus on healing himself, it was now. If Erik stayed, he wouldn't do that. He couldn't help himself. Apart from that, Erik needed time alone to sort himself out, away from the school. He saw Nina in every child who was even close to her age. He saw the future she might have had in the older students. He saw fathers with their daughters and hated them for every smile, every embrace, every laugh they shared with their little girls that Erik would never share with Nina again. He also saw Charles notice, saw the telepath affected by this, saw the rapid blinking and the frown that signalled a struggle to restore his damaged mental barriers. Erik saw what he had done to the man more and more every day.

He started packing.