Quick Note:
Yes you’ll get these updates sporadically – like I had stated in the first post these fics are palette cleansers when dealing with Sylum related materials.
This particular AU is from X-Men: First Class … Erik Lehnsherr and Charles Xavier. I’m not that involved in X-Men fandom so this could be interesting …. blame Speed.
<< >> denotes telepathic speech
***
Charles sat in the clean waiting room, waiting. They had wheeled Erik away, and every instinct had him wanting to follow, but he was getting looks from other staff. His ‘uniform’ was covered in blood and sand, and he looked wild. He forced himself to calm down, then gently tapped his forehead to calm those around him.
With deliberate ease he stole a pair of scrubs, trashed the uniform into a hazmat bin, and worked his way back to the lobby, where he was directly pointed to the surgery waiting area. It would seem he was startling the other patients.
After an hour of nothing but tired platitudes from the staff, he wandered around. With his shields firmly in place, he explored the modern facility. It had taken him sadly a while to figure out he was actually in Havana. Azazel had got him to the closest hospital, and really at this moment he couldn’t have been happier.
‘My cousin said they were so scared.’ A voice snuck through his shields, as he passed by the nurses station. He worked to ignore it, but something told him to pause. ‘All those warships. He was sure death was coming to their door.’
‘They are gone now.’ A second voice entered into the conversation. ‘But tension has risen once again. We are not their battle ground.’
‘Yet they sent bombs to our beaches!’ A third entered the conversation. ‘I saw it. Then they turned around and …’
“Code Blue!” A yell went down the hall. “Code Blue in OR Room 3!”
Charles looked down the hallway as nurses, ran for the operating room. He knew without a doubt that was where Erik was located.
<<Don’t leave me.>> He stood in the hallway, his focus and attention fully on the only thing that mattered. <<Erik hold on! Don’t you dare leave me now, you son of a bitch!>>
One of the older nurses made her way down the hall, stopping in front of Charles. “Come sit down, can we get you anything?”
“Is he alive?” He asked, letting her sit him down, his focus still on Erik.
“He coded on the table, they couldn’t find the bullet…” She gasped.
Charles looked down at his open palm, where the bullet laid. “You don’t know what he means to the world … to me.”
She sat next to him, folded his hand around the bullet, and held it in between hers. “He’s got a guardian angel watching over him…”
Charles chuckled humorlessly. “Well they’ve done a piss all job haven’t they.” He pulled his hand from hers, gave her a halfhearted smile as she walked left him there.
He startled awake when a hand rested on his shoulder. He stood quickly when he saw the doctor leaning over him. “How is he?”
“He’s in recovery.” He gave him a reassuring smile. “We lost him for a moment, but were able to get him back. We were able to repair the damage to his lung, but it’s going to be a long recovery. We’ll have to watch for infections, and he’ll have a weakened lung, but if all goes well…”
“Can I see him?” Charles demanded.
“When we settle him into a room, you can visit …” The doctor hesitated, motioning for Charles to sit back down, while taking the seat next to him. “I was concerned of the scars that he already has. Do you know any of his medical history, that we should be aware of … the next 48 hours will be crucial to his recovery.”
“He’s a survivor of the camps.” He closed his eyes, as flashes of Erik’s memory broke through the fog he’d been in for the past … he looked around until he saw clock. Twelve hours. They had taken down Shaw twelve hours ago, and it felt like a lifetime ago.
<<Holy Mother of God.>>
Charles glanced over to the Doctor, who had paled tremendously as he crossed himself.
<<Holy Mother I ask you to intercede with your son to heal this young man … >>
“He’s Jewish.”
The Doctor titled his head slightly, but didn’t seem upset or fazed. “I will send for a Rabbi, in case.”
“He survived the camps, doctor. He’s too damn stubborn to die at the hands of humans.” Charles gripped the bullet in his palm, feeling the sharp edges push against his skin. “But I thank you for your prayers and more importantly your skills.”
“I’ll make sure the staff knows his history.” He stood only to pause and glance down at Charles. “There was an incident in the surgery room. The trays, tools, anything metal started shanking, right before he coded.”
Charles gave him a soft smile, as his fingers touched his forehead.
The doctor blinked, shaking his head slightly. “A nurse will come to get you, once he’s settled in his room.” He turned and walked away, not quite sure what had just happened.
He leaned back in the uncomfortable seat, ignoring the tears that streaked down his cheek.