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FIC: Guilty by Association - Charles/Erik, XMFC - (13/13) [COMPLETE]
Title: Guilty by Association (13/13)
Author: Regann
Pairing: Charles/Erik (XMFC)
Rating: PG-13/R
Word Count: ~5,100 for the chapter (total: ~60,000)
Warnings: discussion of murder, violence and prostitution
Disclaimer: I don't own anything; I just play with them.
Notes: Everything I know about law enforcement and investigative journalism, I learned from watching television. Don't expect any more realism here than you'd find on an episode of CSI or L&O. There is also State of Play influence in this fic as well, although you don't need to have seen it to understand anything in this fic.
Summary: While investigating the homicide of a John Doe who he suspects might've been murdered while working the streets as a prostitute, Detective Erik Lehnsherr finds an unexpected ally in a hooker named Charles who seems as determined as he to solve the case. As they become more deeply involved both with the case and each other, there's just one thing that Charles neglects to mention -- that he's really an investigative journalist, one quickly convinced that what they're dealing with is more than simple murder. cop!Erik, fake-hooker-slash-reporter!Charles, Modern AU.
Previous Parts available at LJ, DW and AO3.
Guilty by Association (Part 13)
The last place Charles had wanted to be when he had a story to finish was stuck in the hospital, but the doctors had had other ideas given the severity of the concussion Azazello had given him. When he'd tried to appeal to his father, even Brian had reluctantly sided with the doctor when she had Charles admitted overnight for observation, although there had been a painful sympathy in his eyes when he did so.
But Charles had never been one so easily deterred when it came to a story, especially not after what he'd went through what he had to get it, so a few hours after he'd been settled into his private room for the evening, Moira and Sean had arrived, armed with notes and laptops, much to the horror of the night shift nursing staff. That hadn't stopped them, either, and Brian had eventually used his considerable pull with whoever he knew at the hospital so that Charles was left alone to write the story he'd spent the last two weeks living and breathing.
Raven had shown up at the hospital as soon as their father had remembered to call her and let her know that Charles had been found, and she'd refused to leave his side all night, crawling into the hospital bed to curl up with him when Moira, Sean and Brian's presence had left little room for any other option. She was also the one who ended up with Charles's laptop settled across her legs, taking his story by dictation when he'd realized that staring at a computer screen was the last thing he was capable of while nursing a concussion and that his wrists, still painful beneath their bandages, weren't quite up to the task of typing.
Sometime in the middle of the night -- most of it a blur for Charles -- he'd handed off his draft to Moira to finish, having done as much as he could. She had hurried off with Sean back to the paper as Charles finally accepted the pain medication that the nurses had been instructed to give him before falling into a hazy sleep that was interrupted every few hours to make sure he hadn't been more damaged than they'd suspected.
But the next morning, when Brian had shown up with a paper in his hand to show both Charles and Raven, one with a byline that boldly read "Charles Xavier" instead of "Francis Pembroke," Charles couldn't help but feel like it had all been worth it.
That had all been three days ago.
Charles was now back recuperating at his home under Raven's watchful eye, although she was currently out running errands, a fact he was glad for when the doorbell rang and he opened it to find Hank standing there, looking nervous and ill-at-ease.
"What are you doing here?" he asked, which he realized a second too late might've sounded unkind. "Not that I'm not glad to see you, Hank. I'm just...surprised."
Hank tried to smile. "I hope I'm not bothering you," he said. "I just wanted to come by and check on you."
Charles actually managed a real smile, which made Hank relax. "Of course not," he said, opening the door to let his friend into the brownstone. "Come on in."
He wasn't so addle-brained that he'd forgotten his manners, although there were lingering effects to the concussion that he was finding extremely irritating, including the headaches, blurred vision and a mild case of vertigo. It was why Raven was waiting on him hand and foot as if she was certain he was on death's door, but Charles was fully capable of offering his guest a drink, although Hank politely declined as he settled in a chair across from the sofa where Charles sat.
"So how are you?" Hank asked, his frown returning. "I know you haven't been answering your phone or email since you got out of the hospital."
"I've had Raven screening it for me," he admitted. "She wasn't supposed to screen you out. I apologize, Hank."
He shrugged. "I only called and emailed once and I figured...you're okay, right?"
"The concussion is taking longer than I would like to sort itself out but the doctors have assured me it's just a matter of time," Charles said. "There's no need to worry about me, but thank you for asking."
"Concussions can be serious," Hank began. "Have they checked to make sure...?"
"I had the best doctors my father's money could buy," Charles said wryly, cutting off the medical babble before it started. "I'm sure they took everything into account."
"You're right, of course," Hank said, ducking his head away from Charles's eyes. "I'm glad you're okay. I felt really horrible when I realized that you'd been...well, you know."
Charles finally understood the strange hesitance in his friend. "Surely you don't think I blame you?"
"I did get you involved," Hank said.
"I wanted the story, Hank," Charles reminded. "None of this is your fault."
The tension in Hank's shoulders finally bled out as he slumped forward a little. "I, just, you know, didn't, you know..."
Charles leaned for as much as he could and gave Hank's shoulder a quick squeeze. "I understand."
"I wanted to come by before now," Hank admitted in a rush. "But things have been crazy at the station. Even more than usual, I mean, especially with Frost on administrative leave and everything."
"Really?" Charles asked, surprised and yet not. Moira had been doing the follow-up work on the case and she'd kept him in the loop, but other than telling him how instrumental Captain Frost had been in helping locate him, she hadn't mentioned her much. "I didn't realize."
"I think she wanted it as much they wanted it honestly," Hank said. "She and Governor Shaw were pretty tight and I think it's been hard for her, to find out that he got her mixed up in this." He paused, wincing. "Please don't repeat that to anyone. It's off the record."
"I'm not really up to any sleuthing at the moment," Charles teased. "You're safe, for the moment."
Hank managed a nervous grin in response, but it didn't take long before it faded away. He pushed his glasses up on the bridge of his nose. "Have you heard from Detective Lehnsherr, since...?"
Even Charles wasn't a good enough actor to hide his wince or his sadness at Hank's question. "No," he answered. Raven had packed up the few items of Erik's that had been at Charles's place before he had even gotten out of the hospital and sent them back to Erik in care of the police station. As much as Charles had hoped that he'd hear from Erik, he wasn't surprised he hadn't, no matter how much it hurt. It had been a risk to keep Erik in the dark about his motives the way he had and Charles couldn't even say he blamed the detective for it. Still, all of his logical understanding didn't make his heart ache less with the loss. "But I hadn't really expected to."
"He's come by my office a few times asking about you," Hank revealed. "I just thought..."
"You were right that he's a good man and a great detective," Charles said softly. "If he...if you get the chance, let him know that from me, will you?"
Hank's blue gaze was painful in its sympathy, and Charles couldn't help but imagine a future where Hank wasn't the only one of them begging for scraps of information about a lost love. "Of course, I will."
Hank didn't stay much longer, a lucky fact since Raven returned soon after, and Charles was fairly certain he wasn't well enough to witness that awkward reunion. He and his sister passed a quiet evening and a similarly quiet morning and afternoon the next day. Raven had remained glued to his side for those hours and, while Charles was touched by her devotion, it was getting to be a little much.
"I don't mind," she said when he said something similar out loud. "I don't want you to need help and not have anyone here."
"And I'm grateful, love, truly I am," he said. "But honestly? I could use some space."
Raven frowned. "You just want to mope in peace."
He ignored her accusation. "I think it would do us both some good if you took the night off from babysitting me."
She deliberated his words for a moment before she finally relented with a sigh. "Fine," Raven told him. "But you have to promise you'll call me if you need anything."
"I promise," he told her. "Now get out of here, have fun, sleep in your own bed. You can come back in the morning to reassure yourself I'm alive if you need to."
"I will," she told him. "And if you can't get me, you have to call someone, okay?"
"I have Moira and Sean on speed dial," Charles told her. "Someone will come to my rescue if something happens."
Raven reached for her purse but then stopped, turning to look at him again with a frown marring the smooth skin of her forehead. "Are you sure?"
He nodded. "I'm sure."
"It's just..." she trailed off, searching for the words."You've been so sad, Charles, since everything. It's not like you, not since...well, you know. I'm worried about you."
"This, too, shall pass," he said, a hint of humor in his tone, but it didn't cover just how right he knew she was. "I'll be fine, Raven. Off you go."
It took a few more minutes of cajoling before Charles finally managed to hustle Raven out the door, and only after a bone-crushing hug goodbye did she actually let him close the door behind her.
Charles couldn't help admit that the silence in the wake of Raven's departure was nice, even if it did give him more time to think about all the things he had avoided thinking about -- namely, Erik. It was amazing that it had only taken such a short amount of time for Erik to worm himself so thoroughly into Charles's heart that he could miss him as much as he did, but he had and Charles knew he'd just have to get over it, the same as he'd done when his marriage had fallen apart. The fact that he was even comparing them was another sober reminder of how deeply he had wounded himself with his own bad decisions.
Raven had only been gone a few minutes before Charles heard a knock on his door and couldn't help but wonder if she'd forgotten something or if she had just changed her stubborn mind once again, deciding that Charles wasn't fit to be left alone, even for the night. When the knock sounded again, he rolled his eyes, scrambling up from the couch, ready to demand an explanation as to why she didn't let herself in with her key.
When Charles pulled the door open and found himself facing Erik and not his sister, all ability to speak fled from him. "Erik," he finally said, more disbelieving breath than word.
Despite his certainty that he'd never seen him again, Erik Lehnsherr was standing on his front step, dressed casually in slacks and a turtleneck, looking as nervous as Charles felt.
"Hi," Erik said. "Can I...come in?"
Charles blamed the concussion for the strange burning in his chest and his sudden lightheadedness. "Oh, yes, of course," he said, stepping back to let the detective enter.
As he watched Erik's back walk ahead of him into the living room, Charles tried to think of everything he wanted to say before he took a deep breath and followed.
**
Erik tried not to let his nervousness show as he took a seat on Charles's familiar sofa, looking up as he watched Charles hesitate a long moment before he joined him. In between all the chaos at the job, Erik had spent the last few days soul-searching, trying to think of exactly what he wanted to say the next time he saw Charles -- Charles Xavier, freelance investigative journalist, not Charles the high-end escort, the man he'd thought he'd met and liked and...
As he watched Charles shift uncomfortably in the silence that stretched between them, Erik took in the sight he made. Charles was still a little pale and there was still a hint of bruises around one wrist. But his eyes were sharp, still too blue and entirely too soulful when Erik wanted to hold onto some of his anger, and his mouth was set in a grim line that reminded Erik more of Brian Xavier than it did his son.
Looking for some way to start the conversation he'd come to have, Erik's eyes wandered to the coffee table, to the folded paper with the headline that announced Shaw's downfall. He reached for it, eyes focusing on the print. "I read it," he told Charles, the first words spoken since he'd stepped inside. "It was good."
"Thank you," Charles said quietly, a hint of what might've been guilt in his voice. "I couldn't have done it without you."
Erik let out a bark of a laugh, probably harsher than he'd planned given Charles's wince at the sound. "I could say the same to you," he admitted. "You were...quite instrumental in breaking the case."
"I..." Charles trailed off, shaking his head. "It all worked out, I suppose."
Erik wasn't used to the Charles before him, a Charles that was so obviously nervous and distressed. The mean part of him thought it was only fair, given the lies Charles had told him, but the other part -- the larger part -- hated to see anything that made him look defeated. It reminded him too much of how he'd looked in that bedroom where he'd been held captive, closer to death than any of them probably liked to think about. "I guess so." He laid the paper back down on the table. "We solved it, in any case."
"Perhaps at a higher cost than we'd planned," Charles murmured and Erik glanced toward him, only to see that Charles's eyes stared off in the distance, unfocused and faraway.
"You got your byline," Erik said. "Surely, it was worth it."
"Sometimes I think so," he admitted, eyes wandering to Erik's face, solemn and bright. "But sometimes I wonder..."
It was Erik that looked away. "McCoy told me you were still feeling poorly from the concussion," Erik said, trying to keep his tone brusque and business-like. Suddenly he wasn't even sure why he'd come to see Charles in the first place. "I'm sure once that's passed..."
"Is that really what you think?" Charles asked him, sharp and demanding, much more like the Charles he'd met, pushy and confident. "That when I say I have regrets that it's because I took a knock to the head?"
"You were also kidnapped."
"You're also playing stupid and it doesn't suit you, Detective," Charles told him. Something fierce had seized hold of his features and Erik couldn't make himself look away again. "How can you doubt that all the regrets I have are ones to do with you?"
The words settled like lead in the pit of Erik's stomach and he felt himself coming to his feet. "It's not like we ever have to ---"
He wasn't even standing before Charles reached out and dragged him back down to the sofa, hand tight around his wrist. "You are a bloody idiot, Erik Lehnsherr," he told him. "First for thinking that I was a hooker, then for continuing to believe it and then for thinking that I regretted any of it except lying to you."
The lead seemed to melt away at Charles's words, turning into a warmth that Erik almost wanted to ignore in favor of pressing his point. But Charles was looking at him with those big blue eyes, shining with the same soft emotion that lit his voice. "Is that supposed to be an apology?" he couldn't help but ask.
"Yes, it is," Charles said, almost smiling. He released his hold on Erik's wrist in favor of sliding a little closer, letting one arm slide around Erik on the back of the sofa, one leg crossed over Erik's. In order to completely obliterate Erik's defenses, Charles leaned into him, forehead resting against Erik the same way it had when Erik had rescued him from Azazello. "You've met my father, right? It's amazing I'm capable of even that, if you must know."
Despite himself, Erik smiled at that as he felt himself relax into Charles's touch. "He is something else."
"He's a terror," Charles quickly supplied. "An absolute terror." His breath was warm against Erik's cheek. "Erik," he said, more serious. "I told you from the beginning that what was between us wasn't about anything else but us." He pulled away a little, hands coming up to frame Erik's face, to keep him from looking away as he added, "Surely you believe that?"
"I want to," he said, giving in to the temptation to touch in return, fingers tracing over Charles's where they still cradled his face. "I've never...before..." he trailed off."When I realized you were missing, I couldn't..."
Charles brushed a kiss against his mouth to stop the incoherent flow of words. "It was horrible of me to let you continue to think I was someone other than who I was," he said. There was a teasing echo to his words but his eyes were wide and sincere. "I didn't set out to fool you and I didn't even realize until that first morning after that you thought...well, what you did. I should've explained when I figured it out but...things were moving fast, both with the case and with us." He paused. "I had planned to tell you, you know, the day I was kidnapped. I wouldn't have been able to hide it, anyway, once Alex told Detective Muñoz the truth."
It was hard to hold onto the last vestiges of his anger and hurt with Charles wrapped around him like he was and Erik found he didn't want to, not like he'd thought he had. No matter how hard he had tried, both had always been secondary to the earth-shattering relief he'd felt when he'd found Charles alive instead of dead, to the fear that had come before that, the fervent prayer that he be safe. It all paled in comparison to that and Erik would be lying to himself to pretend otherwise. "I didn't want to lose you," Erik confessed, reaching up to pull Charles's hands from his face. "Not then and not now, I want...I want this to become...something."
Charles smiled his first real smile of the evening, a smile that Erik had only seen a few times since they met, dazzling in its intensity. "You have a way with words, my friend," he said, still smiling. "I was thinking the same thing exactly."
Erik's disbelief at that flippant remark quickly melted away as Charles twined his arms around Erik's neck and pulled him down for a kiss, mouth lush and demanding. It was amazing how accustomed Erik had become to Charles's mind-druggingly thorough kisses in so short a time and how much he'd grown to miss them in an even shorter amount; it was like a match to tinder, setting his nerve endings to fire with no more than the clash of their lips and the faint drag of Charles's fingers through his hair. Before he realized exactly what he'd done, Erik had pulled Charles closer, almost into his lap given the way they curled around each other on the sofa, one hand tracing a curving path from Charles's hip to his knee and back again.
When Charles moaned into his mouth as he tried to press even closer, Erik reluctantly pulled away, remembering what McCoy had said about the lingering side effects of his concussion. "Are you sure you're all right for this?" he asked, breathless. "You're still..."
"I'm fine," Charles assured him, wrapping the one leg more securely around Erik. "It's very noble of you to be concerned, but I'm perfectly capable of whatever we might decide to get up to this evening."
Erik shivered a little at the promise in Charles's tone, one echoed in his eyes. There was nothing Erik wanted more than to drag Charles off to bed but he had to be sure this time instead of ignoring the niggling doubts like he had before. If he was going to invest -- although it seemed a foregone conclusion that he already had -- Erik wanted to clear the air between them completely. "Charles," he said.
Charles must've sensed the shift in Erik's mood because he regarded him steadily. "Erik?"
"Before," he began, then cleared his throat, not sure he could phrase it the way he'd planned. "Is there anything else? That I don't know. That you think I should?"
Charles pulled back a little. "I could ask you the same thing," he said. "You weren't exactly forthcoming about your personal life."
Erik nodded a little, accepting the criticism. "There's not much to tell," he said. "I was married once, too. It didn't work out and I haven't seen her in years."
Charles held his eyes for what seemed like forever, clearly debating with himself over something. Erik tried to be patient but he felt all the tension from before creeping up on him as Charles remained silent, biting down on his lip like he was afraid to speak. Finally, when Erik had lost all hope of a response, Charles blurted something out. "David."
Erik was certain his heart wasn't going to survive any more surprises from Charles. "There is someone else, just not your wife."
"No," Charles objected, very sharply. "Honestly, I'm a little concerned about how this is going to work if you keep jumping to the worst conclusion you can think of."
"I'll work on it," he promised, meaning it. "So who's David?"
Charles let his eyes settle on some point over Erik's shoulder. "He's my son, biologically speaking, although I don't...he lives with his mother, my ex-wife, in Europe. With her new husband. We all decided in a very adult manner that it would be better that way for everyone," he finished softly, unable to hide the hurt. His eyes finally cut back to meet Erik's. "Gabrielle, David...you've met my family, my friends. I really can't think of anything else. I swear."
Faced with such painful sincerity, there was only one thing Erik could say. "I believe you."
It brought a ghost of a smile back to Charles's face. "You do?"
Erik nodded, then leaned in to kiss the smile completely back onto his face. "I do," he confirmed between one kiss and the next.
Charles's arms tightened around him. "Then take me to bed," he whispered into Erik's ear before tugging the lobe between his teeth.
So Erik did just that.
**
When he woke up the next morning, it took Erik a moment to remember where he was or how he got there, but the familiar outline of Charles's bedroom coupled with his very familiar form wrapped around Erik's quickly reminded him of the night before. He couldn't help but allow himself to fall into that bright warm feeling that had hovered on the edges ever since he'd first met Charles, a feeling that he was tentatively sure most people called happiness. It had been a while since he'd really felt the full brunt of it but it was there waiting, threatening to expand inside his chest if given half the chance.
Erik planned on giving it more than just half of one.
Since Charles was sleeping heavily at his side -- a minor victory since past experience had had him fleeing the bed far before Erik woke -- Erik allowed himself the indulgence of his desire to reassure himself through touch; he brushed his fingers over the curve of Charles's cheek before he threaded those same fingers through his mussed hair, reveling in the very ability to do so. Two weeks earlier, Erik couldn't have imagined that anything like Charles was waiting on the horizon but he was surprised -- and grateful -- that he had been.
In the distance, probably from downstairs, Erik could hear the faint sound of something ringing, perhaps a phone, but he ignored it since Charles slept through it, content to stay where he was until Charles finally decided to join him. He didn't know how long he drifted in the twilight between complete wakefulness and slumber, lulled into that peaceful drowsiness by Charles still curled up at his side, but the far-off din of ringing sounded again, this time succeeding in pulling Charles from sleep.
Charles blinked up at Erik a few times, a smile winding around the curl of his mouth when he finally focused on him. "Good morning," he said.
"Good morning," Erik replied, unable to stop the smile that came to his own face.
"That's a very good look on you," Charles said, mischief apparent on his face as he pulled Erik down for a kiss. It didn't last long enough but it did the job of casting aside any doubts Erik might've had. In fact, it was enough to cast aside any thoughts Erik might've had about leaving bed for the rest of the day. He stretched himself over Charles who hummed his approval against his mouth as Erik let his hand drift beneath the sheet, intent on the hardness he could feel pressed against him.
They only had a few seconds of warning before a voice shattered the quiet morning.
"I swear to god, you better be dead, Charles!" Raven said as she flung the bedroom open, huffing from what Erik assumed was her dash up the stairs. "I mean it, you....oh my god!" Almost as fast as she'd busted in, Raven swung around, turning her back on the room even though she didn't release her death grip on the doorknob. "Charles!"
"Good morning, Raven," Charles said with a groan, shooting Erik a dark look as Erik jerked away from their rather comprising position -- not that it did much to erase what Raven had seen when she first entered the room. "May I ask what in the bloody hell you're doing here?"
"I told you I was coming back to check on you," she said, still scowling in the direction of the hall. "I've called, like, ten times and you didn't answer the phone. I had horrible visions of you cracking your head open in the bathroom and bleeding to death all alone so I rushed over here."
"Obviously that isn't the case," he said with a sigh, re-arranging the sheet over his body.
"Obviously," she parroted back. "You're definitely not alone, for one thing." She risked a peek over her shoulder, shooting Erik a flirty little grin that wasn't far-off from her brother's. "Nice to see you, again, Erik."
Erik could feel a flush crawling over his skin. "Raven," he said in return.
"I'm really touched you came all this way to make sure I hadn't killed myself taking a shower," Charles told her. "But could you please just...well, leave? Thanks ever so much."
"Well, I can't. Exactly," she said. "You see, Dad's downstairs."
For the first time that morning, Charles actually showed some alarm. "Excuse me?"
"He wanted us to all have breakfast together and talk about...things," she finished vaguely with a wave of her hand. "I don't know really, he wanted to come with me. So, he's downstairs with muffins, trying to figure out your coffee maker."
"Oh, god," Charles groaned.
Raven nodded. "So you've probably got a few minutes, maybe? Before he comes up here himself." She laughed a little. "So I'll be seeing the both of you in a few, I guess. Bye!"
She was at least nice enough, Erik observed, to tug the door closed behind her.
Despite his own horror at the situation, Charles's obvious distress was amusing. "I guess that means we should get dressed?" Erik asked.
Charles had flung an arm over his eyes during Raven's parting comments, one that he lifted away now. "Last night, I should've probably warned you," he said. "My family is insane. There's only the two of them, but they're completely around the bend."
"I've met them both before," Erik reminded him. "I wasn't totally unaware." Erik was ready to make another teasing remark about apples not falling far from the tree when he noticed a hint of real concern in Charles's expression. "What?"
"Gabrielle, she..." Charles trailed off, for once lost for words but Erik was smart enough to connect the dots.
"Your family isn't going to scare me off," Erik promised, thinking of his own mother who would be subjecting Charles to her own version of terrifying as soon as he could arrange it. "Even if your father already hates me and your sister keeps giving me looks."
"My dad hates everyone except Moira," Charles assured him lightly, relaxing enough to take one of Erik's hands between his own. "And Raven is a bloody shameless flirt, pay her no attention."
Erik snorted. "There's an English saying about pots and kettles..."
Charles shot him a mock-stern look before he leaned up to give him a quick kiss. "It will only take about three more minutes before Dad realizes he can't figure out the coffeemaker and he'll be on his way up," Charles warned. "I suggest we get dressed."
Erik took his advice as Charles moved to do the same, quickly locating his slacks and turtleneck from where they'd ended up on the floor. Charles had slipped back into his sweats and t-shirt from the night before, although he still was sending apprehensive looks in Erik's direction like he expected him to bolt at any moment.
"We can handle breakfast with your father," he assured Charles, sneaking one more kiss as they pulled the bedroom open. "And your sister."
"That sure of yourself, detective?" Charles teased.
Erik shook his head. "Us," he corrected. "We make a good team, don't you think?"
"Not just good," Charles grinned, his face lighting up with something that Erik thought was close to what he'd felt when he'd woken up, the thing he was petty sure was happiness. "The best."
With that smile as an incentive, Erik was fairly certain that there wasn't anything he couldn't face.
**
The End.
Author: Regann
Pairing: Charles/Erik (XMFC)
Rating: PG-13/R
Word Count: ~5,100 for the chapter (total: ~60,000)
Warnings: discussion of murder, violence and prostitution
Disclaimer: I don't own anything; I just play with them.
Notes: Everything I know about law enforcement and investigative journalism, I learned from watching television. Don't expect any more realism here than you'd find on an episode of CSI or L&O. There is also State of Play influence in this fic as well, although you don't need to have seen it to understand anything in this fic.
Summary: While investigating the homicide of a John Doe who he suspects might've been murdered while working the streets as a prostitute, Detective Erik Lehnsherr finds an unexpected ally in a hooker named Charles who seems as determined as he to solve the case. As they become more deeply involved both with the case and each other, there's just one thing that Charles neglects to mention -- that he's really an investigative journalist, one quickly convinced that what they're dealing with is more than simple murder. cop!Erik, fake-hooker-slash-reporter!Charles, Modern AU.
Previous Parts available at LJ, DW and AO3.
Guilty by Association (Part 13)
The last place Charles had wanted to be when he had a story to finish was stuck in the hospital, but the doctors had had other ideas given the severity of the concussion Azazello had given him. When he'd tried to appeal to his father, even Brian had reluctantly sided with the doctor when she had Charles admitted overnight for observation, although there had been a painful sympathy in his eyes when he did so.
But Charles had never been one so easily deterred when it came to a story, especially not after what he'd went through what he had to get it, so a few hours after he'd been settled into his private room for the evening, Moira and Sean had arrived, armed with notes and laptops, much to the horror of the night shift nursing staff. That hadn't stopped them, either, and Brian had eventually used his considerable pull with whoever he knew at the hospital so that Charles was left alone to write the story he'd spent the last two weeks living and breathing.
Raven had shown up at the hospital as soon as their father had remembered to call her and let her know that Charles had been found, and she'd refused to leave his side all night, crawling into the hospital bed to curl up with him when Moira, Sean and Brian's presence had left little room for any other option. She was also the one who ended up with Charles's laptop settled across her legs, taking his story by dictation when he'd realized that staring at a computer screen was the last thing he was capable of while nursing a concussion and that his wrists, still painful beneath their bandages, weren't quite up to the task of typing.
Sometime in the middle of the night -- most of it a blur for Charles -- he'd handed off his draft to Moira to finish, having done as much as he could. She had hurried off with Sean back to the paper as Charles finally accepted the pain medication that the nurses had been instructed to give him before falling into a hazy sleep that was interrupted every few hours to make sure he hadn't been more damaged than they'd suspected.
But the next morning, when Brian had shown up with a paper in his hand to show both Charles and Raven, one with a byline that boldly read "Charles Xavier" instead of "Francis Pembroke," Charles couldn't help but feel like it had all been worth it.
That had all been three days ago.
Charles was now back recuperating at his home under Raven's watchful eye, although she was currently out running errands, a fact he was glad for when the doorbell rang and he opened it to find Hank standing there, looking nervous and ill-at-ease.
"What are you doing here?" he asked, which he realized a second too late might've sounded unkind. "Not that I'm not glad to see you, Hank. I'm just...surprised."
Hank tried to smile. "I hope I'm not bothering you," he said. "I just wanted to come by and check on you."
Charles actually managed a real smile, which made Hank relax. "Of course not," he said, opening the door to let his friend into the brownstone. "Come on in."
He wasn't so addle-brained that he'd forgotten his manners, although there were lingering effects to the concussion that he was finding extremely irritating, including the headaches, blurred vision and a mild case of vertigo. It was why Raven was waiting on him hand and foot as if she was certain he was on death's door, but Charles was fully capable of offering his guest a drink, although Hank politely declined as he settled in a chair across from the sofa where Charles sat.
"So how are you?" Hank asked, his frown returning. "I know you haven't been answering your phone or email since you got out of the hospital."
"I've had Raven screening it for me," he admitted. "She wasn't supposed to screen you out. I apologize, Hank."
He shrugged. "I only called and emailed once and I figured...you're okay, right?"
"The concussion is taking longer than I would like to sort itself out but the doctors have assured me it's just a matter of time," Charles said. "There's no need to worry about me, but thank you for asking."
"Concussions can be serious," Hank began. "Have they checked to make sure...?"
"I had the best doctors my father's money could buy," Charles said wryly, cutting off the medical babble before it started. "I'm sure they took everything into account."
"You're right, of course," Hank said, ducking his head away from Charles's eyes. "I'm glad you're okay. I felt really horrible when I realized that you'd been...well, you know."
Charles finally understood the strange hesitance in his friend. "Surely you don't think I blame you?"
"I did get you involved," Hank said.
"I wanted the story, Hank," Charles reminded. "None of this is your fault."
The tension in Hank's shoulders finally bled out as he slumped forward a little. "I, just, you know, didn't, you know..."
Charles leaned for as much as he could and gave Hank's shoulder a quick squeeze. "I understand."
"I wanted to come by before now," Hank admitted in a rush. "But things have been crazy at the station. Even more than usual, I mean, especially with Frost on administrative leave and everything."
"Really?" Charles asked, surprised and yet not. Moira had been doing the follow-up work on the case and she'd kept him in the loop, but other than telling him how instrumental Captain Frost had been in helping locate him, she hadn't mentioned her much. "I didn't realize."
"I think she wanted it as much they wanted it honestly," Hank said. "She and Governor Shaw were pretty tight and I think it's been hard for her, to find out that he got her mixed up in this." He paused, wincing. "Please don't repeat that to anyone. It's off the record."
"I'm not really up to any sleuthing at the moment," Charles teased. "You're safe, for the moment."
Hank managed a nervous grin in response, but it didn't take long before it faded away. He pushed his glasses up on the bridge of his nose. "Have you heard from Detective Lehnsherr, since...?"
Even Charles wasn't a good enough actor to hide his wince or his sadness at Hank's question. "No," he answered. Raven had packed up the few items of Erik's that had been at Charles's place before he had even gotten out of the hospital and sent them back to Erik in care of the police station. As much as Charles had hoped that he'd hear from Erik, he wasn't surprised he hadn't, no matter how much it hurt. It had been a risk to keep Erik in the dark about his motives the way he had and Charles couldn't even say he blamed the detective for it. Still, all of his logical understanding didn't make his heart ache less with the loss. "But I hadn't really expected to."
"He's come by my office a few times asking about you," Hank revealed. "I just thought..."
"You were right that he's a good man and a great detective," Charles said softly. "If he...if you get the chance, let him know that from me, will you?"
Hank's blue gaze was painful in its sympathy, and Charles couldn't help but imagine a future where Hank wasn't the only one of them begging for scraps of information about a lost love. "Of course, I will."
Hank didn't stay much longer, a lucky fact since Raven returned soon after, and Charles was fairly certain he wasn't well enough to witness that awkward reunion. He and his sister passed a quiet evening and a similarly quiet morning and afternoon the next day. Raven had remained glued to his side for those hours and, while Charles was touched by her devotion, it was getting to be a little much.
"I don't mind," she said when he said something similar out loud. "I don't want you to need help and not have anyone here."
"And I'm grateful, love, truly I am," he said. "But honestly? I could use some space."
Raven frowned. "You just want to mope in peace."
He ignored her accusation. "I think it would do us both some good if you took the night off from babysitting me."
She deliberated his words for a moment before she finally relented with a sigh. "Fine," Raven told him. "But you have to promise you'll call me if you need anything."
"I promise," he told her. "Now get out of here, have fun, sleep in your own bed. You can come back in the morning to reassure yourself I'm alive if you need to."
"I will," she told him. "And if you can't get me, you have to call someone, okay?"
"I have Moira and Sean on speed dial," Charles told her. "Someone will come to my rescue if something happens."
Raven reached for her purse but then stopped, turning to look at him again with a frown marring the smooth skin of her forehead. "Are you sure?"
He nodded. "I'm sure."
"It's just..." she trailed off, searching for the words."You've been so sad, Charles, since everything. It's not like you, not since...well, you know. I'm worried about you."
"This, too, shall pass," he said, a hint of humor in his tone, but it didn't cover just how right he knew she was. "I'll be fine, Raven. Off you go."
It took a few more minutes of cajoling before Charles finally managed to hustle Raven out the door, and only after a bone-crushing hug goodbye did she actually let him close the door behind her.
Charles couldn't help admit that the silence in the wake of Raven's departure was nice, even if it did give him more time to think about all the things he had avoided thinking about -- namely, Erik. It was amazing that it had only taken such a short amount of time for Erik to worm himself so thoroughly into Charles's heart that he could miss him as much as he did, but he had and Charles knew he'd just have to get over it, the same as he'd done when his marriage had fallen apart. The fact that he was even comparing them was another sober reminder of how deeply he had wounded himself with his own bad decisions.
Raven had only been gone a few minutes before Charles heard a knock on his door and couldn't help but wonder if she'd forgotten something or if she had just changed her stubborn mind once again, deciding that Charles wasn't fit to be left alone, even for the night. When the knock sounded again, he rolled his eyes, scrambling up from the couch, ready to demand an explanation as to why she didn't let herself in with her key.
When Charles pulled the door open and found himself facing Erik and not his sister, all ability to speak fled from him. "Erik," he finally said, more disbelieving breath than word.
Despite his certainty that he'd never seen him again, Erik Lehnsherr was standing on his front step, dressed casually in slacks and a turtleneck, looking as nervous as Charles felt.
"Hi," Erik said. "Can I...come in?"
Charles blamed the concussion for the strange burning in his chest and his sudden lightheadedness. "Oh, yes, of course," he said, stepping back to let the detective enter.
As he watched Erik's back walk ahead of him into the living room, Charles tried to think of everything he wanted to say before he took a deep breath and followed.
**
Erik tried not to let his nervousness show as he took a seat on Charles's familiar sofa, looking up as he watched Charles hesitate a long moment before he joined him. In between all the chaos at the job, Erik had spent the last few days soul-searching, trying to think of exactly what he wanted to say the next time he saw Charles -- Charles Xavier, freelance investigative journalist, not Charles the high-end escort, the man he'd thought he'd met and liked and...
As he watched Charles shift uncomfortably in the silence that stretched between them, Erik took in the sight he made. Charles was still a little pale and there was still a hint of bruises around one wrist. But his eyes were sharp, still too blue and entirely too soulful when Erik wanted to hold onto some of his anger, and his mouth was set in a grim line that reminded Erik more of Brian Xavier than it did his son.
Looking for some way to start the conversation he'd come to have, Erik's eyes wandered to the coffee table, to the folded paper with the headline that announced Shaw's downfall. He reached for it, eyes focusing on the print. "I read it," he told Charles, the first words spoken since he'd stepped inside. "It was good."
"Thank you," Charles said quietly, a hint of what might've been guilt in his voice. "I couldn't have done it without you."
Erik let out a bark of a laugh, probably harsher than he'd planned given Charles's wince at the sound. "I could say the same to you," he admitted. "You were...quite instrumental in breaking the case."
"I..." Charles trailed off, shaking his head. "It all worked out, I suppose."
Erik wasn't used to the Charles before him, a Charles that was so obviously nervous and distressed. The mean part of him thought it was only fair, given the lies Charles had told him, but the other part -- the larger part -- hated to see anything that made him look defeated. It reminded him too much of how he'd looked in that bedroom where he'd been held captive, closer to death than any of them probably liked to think about. "I guess so." He laid the paper back down on the table. "We solved it, in any case."
"Perhaps at a higher cost than we'd planned," Charles murmured and Erik glanced toward him, only to see that Charles's eyes stared off in the distance, unfocused and faraway.
"You got your byline," Erik said. "Surely, it was worth it."
"Sometimes I think so," he admitted, eyes wandering to Erik's face, solemn and bright. "But sometimes I wonder..."
It was Erik that looked away. "McCoy told me you were still feeling poorly from the concussion," Erik said, trying to keep his tone brusque and business-like. Suddenly he wasn't even sure why he'd come to see Charles in the first place. "I'm sure once that's passed..."
"Is that really what you think?" Charles asked him, sharp and demanding, much more like the Charles he'd met, pushy and confident. "That when I say I have regrets that it's because I took a knock to the head?"
"You were also kidnapped."
"You're also playing stupid and it doesn't suit you, Detective," Charles told him. Something fierce had seized hold of his features and Erik couldn't make himself look away again. "How can you doubt that all the regrets I have are ones to do with you?"
The words settled like lead in the pit of Erik's stomach and he felt himself coming to his feet. "It's not like we ever have to ---"
He wasn't even standing before Charles reached out and dragged him back down to the sofa, hand tight around his wrist. "You are a bloody idiot, Erik Lehnsherr," he told him. "First for thinking that I was a hooker, then for continuing to believe it and then for thinking that I regretted any of it except lying to you."
The lead seemed to melt away at Charles's words, turning into a warmth that Erik almost wanted to ignore in favor of pressing his point. But Charles was looking at him with those big blue eyes, shining with the same soft emotion that lit his voice. "Is that supposed to be an apology?" he couldn't help but ask.
"Yes, it is," Charles said, almost smiling. He released his hold on Erik's wrist in favor of sliding a little closer, letting one arm slide around Erik on the back of the sofa, one leg crossed over Erik's. In order to completely obliterate Erik's defenses, Charles leaned into him, forehead resting against Erik the same way it had when Erik had rescued him from Azazello. "You've met my father, right? It's amazing I'm capable of even that, if you must know."
Despite himself, Erik smiled at that as he felt himself relax into Charles's touch. "He is something else."
"He's a terror," Charles quickly supplied. "An absolute terror." His breath was warm against Erik's cheek. "Erik," he said, more serious. "I told you from the beginning that what was between us wasn't about anything else but us." He pulled away a little, hands coming up to frame Erik's face, to keep him from looking away as he added, "Surely you believe that?"
"I want to," he said, giving in to the temptation to touch in return, fingers tracing over Charles's where they still cradled his face. "I've never...before..." he trailed off."When I realized you were missing, I couldn't..."
Charles brushed a kiss against his mouth to stop the incoherent flow of words. "It was horrible of me to let you continue to think I was someone other than who I was," he said. There was a teasing echo to his words but his eyes were wide and sincere. "I didn't set out to fool you and I didn't even realize until that first morning after that you thought...well, what you did. I should've explained when I figured it out but...things were moving fast, both with the case and with us." He paused. "I had planned to tell you, you know, the day I was kidnapped. I wouldn't have been able to hide it, anyway, once Alex told Detective Muñoz the truth."
It was hard to hold onto the last vestiges of his anger and hurt with Charles wrapped around him like he was and Erik found he didn't want to, not like he'd thought he had. No matter how hard he had tried, both had always been secondary to the earth-shattering relief he'd felt when he'd found Charles alive instead of dead, to the fear that had come before that, the fervent prayer that he be safe. It all paled in comparison to that and Erik would be lying to himself to pretend otherwise. "I didn't want to lose you," Erik confessed, reaching up to pull Charles's hands from his face. "Not then and not now, I want...I want this to become...something."
Charles smiled his first real smile of the evening, a smile that Erik had only seen a few times since they met, dazzling in its intensity. "You have a way with words, my friend," he said, still smiling. "I was thinking the same thing exactly."
Erik's disbelief at that flippant remark quickly melted away as Charles twined his arms around Erik's neck and pulled him down for a kiss, mouth lush and demanding. It was amazing how accustomed Erik had become to Charles's mind-druggingly thorough kisses in so short a time and how much he'd grown to miss them in an even shorter amount; it was like a match to tinder, setting his nerve endings to fire with no more than the clash of their lips and the faint drag of Charles's fingers through his hair. Before he realized exactly what he'd done, Erik had pulled Charles closer, almost into his lap given the way they curled around each other on the sofa, one hand tracing a curving path from Charles's hip to his knee and back again.
When Charles moaned into his mouth as he tried to press even closer, Erik reluctantly pulled away, remembering what McCoy had said about the lingering side effects of his concussion. "Are you sure you're all right for this?" he asked, breathless. "You're still..."
"I'm fine," Charles assured him, wrapping the one leg more securely around Erik. "It's very noble of you to be concerned, but I'm perfectly capable of whatever we might decide to get up to this evening."
Erik shivered a little at the promise in Charles's tone, one echoed in his eyes. There was nothing Erik wanted more than to drag Charles off to bed but he had to be sure this time instead of ignoring the niggling doubts like he had before. If he was going to invest -- although it seemed a foregone conclusion that he already had -- Erik wanted to clear the air between them completely. "Charles," he said.
Charles must've sensed the shift in Erik's mood because he regarded him steadily. "Erik?"
"Before," he began, then cleared his throat, not sure he could phrase it the way he'd planned. "Is there anything else? That I don't know. That you think I should?"
Charles pulled back a little. "I could ask you the same thing," he said. "You weren't exactly forthcoming about your personal life."
Erik nodded a little, accepting the criticism. "There's not much to tell," he said. "I was married once, too. It didn't work out and I haven't seen her in years."
Charles held his eyes for what seemed like forever, clearly debating with himself over something. Erik tried to be patient but he felt all the tension from before creeping up on him as Charles remained silent, biting down on his lip like he was afraid to speak. Finally, when Erik had lost all hope of a response, Charles blurted something out. "David."
Erik was certain his heart wasn't going to survive any more surprises from Charles. "There is someone else, just not your wife."
"No," Charles objected, very sharply. "Honestly, I'm a little concerned about how this is going to work if you keep jumping to the worst conclusion you can think of."
"I'll work on it," he promised, meaning it. "So who's David?"
Charles let his eyes settle on some point over Erik's shoulder. "He's my son, biologically speaking, although I don't...he lives with his mother, my ex-wife, in Europe. With her new husband. We all decided in a very adult manner that it would be better that way for everyone," he finished softly, unable to hide the hurt. His eyes finally cut back to meet Erik's. "Gabrielle, David...you've met my family, my friends. I really can't think of anything else. I swear."
Faced with such painful sincerity, there was only one thing Erik could say. "I believe you."
It brought a ghost of a smile back to Charles's face. "You do?"
Erik nodded, then leaned in to kiss the smile completely back onto his face. "I do," he confirmed between one kiss and the next.
Charles's arms tightened around him. "Then take me to bed," he whispered into Erik's ear before tugging the lobe between his teeth.
So Erik did just that.
**
When he woke up the next morning, it took Erik a moment to remember where he was or how he got there, but the familiar outline of Charles's bedroom coupled with his very familiar form wrapped around Erik's quickly reminded him of the night before. He couldn't help but allow himself to fall into that bright warm feeling that had hovered on the edges ever since he'd first met Charles, a feeling that he was tentatively sure most people called happiness. It had been a while since he'd really felt the full brunt of it but it was there waiting, threatening to expand inside his chest if given half the chance.
Erik planned on giving it more than just half of one.
Since Charles was sleeping heavily at his side -- a minor victory since past experience had had him fleeing the bed far before Erik woke -- Erik allowed himself the indulgence of his desire to reassure himself through touch; he brushed his fingers over the curve of Charles's cheek before he threaded those same fingers through his mussed hair, reveling in the very ability to do so. Two weeks earlier, Erik couldn't have imagined that anything like Charles was waiting on the horizon but he was surprised -- and grateful -- that he had been.
In the distance, probably from downstairs, Erik could hear the faint sound of something ringing, perhaps a phone, but he ignored it since Charles slept through it, content to stay where he was until Charles finally decided to join him. He didn't know how long he drifted in the twilight between complete wakefulness and slumber, lulled into that peaceful drowsiness by Charles still curled up at his side, but the far-off din of ringing sounded again, this time succeeding in pulling Charles from sleep.
Charles blinked up at Erik a few times, a smile winding around the curl of his mouth when he finally focused on him. "Good morning," he said.
"Good morning," Erik replied, unable to stop the smile that came to his own face.
"That's a very good look on you," Charles said, mischief apparent on his face as he pulled Erik down for a kiss. It didn't last long enough but it did the job of casting aside any doubts Erik might've had. In fact, it was enough to cast aside any thoughts Erik might've had about leaving bed for the rest of the day. He stretched himself over Charles who hummed his approval against his mouth as Erik let his hand drift beneath the sheet, intent on the hardness he could feel pressed against him.
They only had a few seconds of warning before a voice shattered the quiet morning.
"I swear to god, you better be dead, Charles!" Raven said as she flung the bedroom open, huffing from what Erik assumed was her dash up the stairs. "I mean it, you....oh my god!" Almost as fast as she'd busted in, Raven swung around, turning her back on the room even though she didn't release her death grip on the doorknob. "Charles!"
"Good morning, Raven," Charles said with a groan, shooting Erik a dark look as Erik jerked away from their rather comprising position -- not that it did much to erase what Raven had seen when she first entered the room. "May I ask what in the bloody hell you're doing here?"
"I told you I was coming back to check on you," she said, still scowling in the direction of the hall. "I've called, like, ten times and you didn't answer the phone. I had horrible visions of you cracking your head open in the bathroom and bleeding to death all alone so I rushed over here."
"Obviously that isn't the case," he said with a sigh, re-arranging the sheet over his body.
"Obviously," she parroted back. "You're definitely not alone, for one thing." She risked a peek over her shoulder, shooting Erik a flirty little grin that wasn't far-off from her brother's. "Nice to see you, again, Erik."
Erik could feel a flush crawling over his skin. "Raven," he said in return.
"I'm really touched you came all this way to make sure I hadn't killed myself taking a shower," Charles told her. "But could you please just...well, leave? Thanks ever so much."
"Well, I can't. Exactly," she said. "You see, Dad's downstairs."
For the first time that morning, Charles actually showed some alarm. "Excuse me?"
"He wanted us to all have breakfast together and talk about...things," she finished vaguely with a wave of her hand. "I don't know really, he wanted to come with me. So, he's downstairs with muffins, trying to figure out your coffee maker."
"Oh, god," Charles groaned.
Raven nodded. "So you've probably got a few minutes, maybe? Before he comes up here himself." She laughed a little. "So I'll be seeing the both of you in a few, I guess. Bye!"
She was at least nice enough, Erik observed, to tug the door closed behind her.
Despite his own horror at the situation, Charles's obvious distress was amusing. "I guess that means we should get dressed?" Erik asked.
Charles had flung an arm over his eyes during Raven's parting comments, one that he lifted away now. "Last night, I should've probably warned you," he said. "My family is insane. There's only the two of them, but they're completely around the bend."
"I've met them both before," Erik reminded him. "I wasn't totally unaware." Erik was ready to make another teasing remark about apples not falling far from the tree when he noticed a hint of real concern in Charles's expression. "What?"
"Gabrielle, she..." Charles trailed off, for once lost for words but Erik was smart enough to connect the dots.
"Your family isn't going to scare me off," Erik promised, thinking of his own mother who would be subjecting Charles to her own version of terrifying as soon as he could arrange it. "Even if your father already hates me and your sister keeps giving me looks."
"My dad hates everyone except Moira," Charles assured him lightly, relaxing enough to take one of Erik's hands between his own. "And Raven is a bloody shameless flirt, pay her no attention."
Erik snorted. "There's an English saying about pots and kettles..."
Charles shot him a mock-stern look before he leaned up to give him a quick kiss. "It will only take about three more minutes before Dad realizes he can't figure out the coffeemaker and he'll be on his way up," Charles warned. "I suggest we get dressed."
Erik took his advice as Charles moved to do the same, quickly locating his slacks and turtleneck from where they'd ended up on the floor. Charles had slipped back into his sweats and t-shirt from the night before, although he still was sending apprehensive looks in Erik's direction like he expected him to bolt at any moment.
"We can handle breakfast with your father," he assured Charles, sneaking one more kiss as they pulled the bedroom open. "And your sister."
"That sure of yourself, detective?" Charles teased.
Erik shook his head. "Us," he corrected. "We make a good team, don't you think?"
"Not just good," Charles grinned, his face lighting up with something that Erik thought was close to what he'd felt when he'd woken up, the thing he was petty sure was happiness. "The best."
With that smile as an incentive, Erik was fairly certain that there wasn't anything he couldn't face.
**
The End.