Another chapter, who would've thought! Thanks so much for your feedback everybody. I'm glad you're enjoying the story so far. As for questions, yes there will be more chapters, and no they do not have any powers.^^

The next time he comes into contact with them is two weeks later.

Charles is startled, shocked almost when he sees the dark van in the parking garage of the hospital with two familiar figures standing next to it, watching him emerge from the elevators, so obviously waiting for him.

It's not like he has forgotten about the deal with the devil he's made –he would have just really like to. But apparently Erik Lehnsherr doesn't feel the same way.

He swallows hard, forcing himself to not just turn around and run like he wants to. He knows he doesn't have a choice in this, not if he wants to make sure raven stays safe. No one has come after her again, so he assumes that Lehnsherr has decided to stick to their deal…at least until Charles screws up somehow.

"Hello, Doc," the burly guy named Logan grins at him as he reaches them, seemingly ignorant of Charles' apprehensive expression and stance, "Boss man has got a job for you. Get in, we'll take you there."

He thinks about protesting. He's just worked a 30 hour shift and raven is waiting for him at home and every fiber of his body is screaming at him not to get into that van –but he doesn't doubt that Logan's seemingly friendly mood can just as easily shift, not to speak of the other guy lurking in the back ground. He kind of looks like Logan, same dark hair and strong built, similar style of clothing, but he has a scowl on his face and a hand on the gun on his belt. Clearly not someone up for games or negotiation.

He gets in the car.

"Where are you taking me?" he asks fifteen minutes later when they drive off the highway and onto a less busy road that seems to lead out of the city.

"You're not here to ask questions," the guy with the scowl snarls at him, making Charles flinch.

"Victor," Logan chides from the driers seat, "don't get nervous, kiddo, Victor's just a big grouch."

Charles has no trouble believing that. He tries to stick with Logan when they finally stop and get out of the car, not that he has much hope that that will save him in case something happens.

They are out in the country and there is only two or three houses surrounded by fields he can see in the setting sun. They walk into the one right in front of them and Charles is ushered through long dim hallways into what looks like a bed room.

There is a man lying on the bed, middle aged and grey, his face red and sweaty. His shirt is torn around his right shoulder, and there is dried and fresh blood on every piece of cloth in his proximity.

In a chair on the other side of the room, Erik Lehnsherr is sitting, dressed as impeccably as the first time they met, and just as immediately intimidating. His expression doesn't change as he looks up and sees Charles has arrived. The man on the bed, however, sputters and wheezes as he tries to get into a sitting position.

"Who the hell is that?"

Charles flinches at his wild expression, immediately feeling even more anxious than before.

"He's a doctor, Hank," Lehnsherr says calmly, folding the paper he has been reading, "Why would you rather I had gotten you a stripper?"

Charles blushes furiously, shocked more than anything at those words. The man on the bed just scoffs derisively. "-just a freaking kid…" he mutters.

"It's that or the hospital, Hank," Lehnsherr comments, somehow managing to look completely indifferent even when panic flickers across the man's face at his words.

Charles has no idea of the dynamics here, he can only assume that the injured man is a criminal and that that is why he can't go to the hospital. He wonders if he is one of Lehnsherr men or associates…but the mob boss doesn't look worried or even….interested.

Charles gulps. Maybe that is just his default setting. He doesn't want to think about how much of a sociopath his new employer really is and how that will factor into his chances of surviving this –so he focuses on what he is obviously here for instead.

His patient snarls at him but eventually lets him works on his injury. He has lost a lot of blood after a poorly done stitching of what looks like a stab wound. It's infected.

He tells the men as much.

"Your advice?" Lehnsherr asks coolly.

Charles looks at the man on the bed, biting his lip. Lehnsherr just raises and eyebrow, then, impatiently get up and grabs Charles arm, pulling him towards the wall out of hearing range. "What?"

"He's in bad shape," Charles explains, trying hard to ignore the burning sensation of the other man's hand on his arm and his corresponding heart racing, "He'll need something to stave off the infection, there are medications that I can tell you to get. But even with them it's not certain he'll make it through the night."

"He'd better. I need him to pull off a business transaction next week." Somehow, even though this shouldn't be Charles' responsibility, he manages to make it sound like a threat. He tries not to look too frightened by that.

"I'll make you a list. You can have someone pick up what I need and I'll help him as best as I can."

Lehnsherr just looks down at him for a moment with that same vaguely dark gaze that he always wears, his grip on Charles' arm not relenting. He is either not noticing that it is almost giving the doctor a heart attack or he doesn't care about that either.

Eventually, thankfully, he nods, and let's go. Relief washes through Charles and he walks back towards the bed, away from Lehnsherr, as soon as he thinks it's alright for him to do so.

By the time Logan is leaving the room to get the supplies, the mob boss is already back to reading his paper, leaving Charles and victor in uncomfortable silence.

It takes another hour for the supplies to arrive and Charles to do his work as best as he can given the setting. Eventually though, he backs away from the bed, his patient having fallen asleep from exhaustion. It's surely in the middle of the night by now. For the dozens time, Charles remembers Raven.

He looks at the men in the room questioningly. None of them move.

Charles frowns nervously. He doesn't know how this works. Can he just leave now? Is there a protocol? Is he supposed to walk back to the city?

"Well, I'll just-" he moves towards the bedroom door experimentally, half thinking no one will even acknowledge his departure now that he's done his job. He jumps when Lehnsherr head snaps up, his pinning gaze stopping him dead in his tracks. "Where do you think you're going?"

"Uh, home?"

"You're staying. I need you to watch him through the night and make sure nothing happens."

Charles opens his mouth to protest but faced with a one again darken expression on the mob boss' face, not a sound comes out. Dejected, he relents, shoulders sagging. He blinks, standing around the room, lost. He's so freaking tired…in general, but also of the nerve-wracking exercise that is being in the same room with three armed criminals.

It takes a minute then Lehnsherr looks up again, a perfect eyebrow raised. "That doesn't mean you have to stand the all night, Charles. Sit. Logan, get Charles some coffee, will you?"

Logan leaves the room and after a moment, Victor follows.

Charles stands and stares at the only free chair in the room, right across the table from Lehnsherr. Suddenly he finds that maybe he'll be okay standing over here all night. Another sharp look let him know that that isn't an option either though. Slowly, reluctantly, he moves and goes to sit with the mafia boss. It's fine, he tells himself, he'll just sit there while Lehnsherr reads-

Or not. As though on command the man shifts in his chair and puts the newspaper away, his light eyes shifting to fixate Charles.

"So, Charles. Tell me something."

He swallows, hands clenched nervously by his sides. Suddenly Lehnsherr doesn't look so disinterested at all anymore. He immediately wishes they could go back to that.

This is definitely not how he imaged his night would go.

xxx

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