A/N: Big update today, I think. We're really coming close to the end now! It seems to be working out in a slightly different way than I envisaged but it can't be helped, I suppose! I just hope that it doesn't disappoint and that this part isn't anticlimactic. Hope you enjoy!
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Charles watched the battle in front of him, mesmerised by the display even as his insides clenched with fear. He had never seen anything like the scene in front of him, not even in the movie theatres that he loved to frequent. But the scene before him now was much deadlier and more intense than anything that had been shown on the silver screen.
Watching them, seeing the ferocity with which they both fought, Charles could not help but cringe at his own naivety, at the complacency, that had made him think that he could do anything to stop what was happening here. Thinking on it, he realised that even before Erik had received the tip about the hotel, when he had promised Charles that he was ending this for good and letting Shaw go – even then it could never have worked. Erik needed this, he saw that now. He understood it in a way that he had not before, even when he had been inside Erik’s mind. How Erik must have despised him for trying to intervene, he thought bitterly.
He knew, deep within the very fibre of his being, that one of the two men before him would die tonight.
He could only pray that that man would not be Erik.
It wasn’t that Charles wasn’t sticking by his own principles. It was merely that he was finally beginning to realise that his principles were not for everyone. Erik had been right – Charles had been trying to force his own morality on him, under the impression, as always, that he was the one that knew best, that it was up to him to enlighten others on things that he had no business interfering with. But who knew better than Erik what it was that Sebastian Shaw deserved? He’d been the one to live it, to experience it, to feel every single painful second of their time together. He’d lived it and he had come through the other side stronger, tougher and more determined, with a mind brighter than any other that Charles had ever seen. He couldn’t say that he wouldn’t have come out infinitely more damaged himself if it had been he in Shaw’s clutches, and not Erik.
Swallowing bitterly at his own foolishness in coming here without thought or plan, Charles turned his full attention back to the men in front of him. Both men were close, little more than arm’s length away from each other, Erik hovering just out of Shaw’s reach even while pummelling Shaw with iron fists, trying once again to drive him into the steel trap waiting just behind him.
But even as Charles watched, Erik seemed to stumble over something in the loose rock of the floor of the scrap yard and, for the slightest moment, he faltered.
That was enough. Quick as a flash, Shaw darted forward and, placing his palm flat against Erik’s stomach, pushed a bolt of power out at him. There was a blast and suddenly Erik was hurtling through the air, crashing painfully into a mountain of metal sheeting. Charles let out a shout of fear and before he knew it, was on his feet and running towards Erik, fear making the blood thunder loudly in his ears. Erik had been severely injured even before Shaw’s attack; he dreaded to think of the damage done by Shaw’s blow this time.
‘Erik!’ he said urgently, clambering over the clumps of metal around him until he was at Erik’s feet. He quickly sank down to Erik’s side and pressed his fingers against his pulse. ‘Erik!’
There was a groan and then Erik turned his head, and Charles was alarmed to see the hollow expression in hiss eyes. To make matters worse, there was a jagged cut across Erik’s hairline that was bleeding profusely and it made Charles shudder to consider what might have happened if that cut was any deeper.
Heat - Part 34a
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Charles watched the battle in front of him, mesmerised by the display even as his insides clenched with fear. He had never seen anything like the scene in front of him, not even in the movie theatres that he loved to frequent. But the scene before him now was much deadlier and more intense than anything that had been shown on the silver screen.
Watching them, seeing the ferocity with which they both fought, Charles could not help but cringe at his own naivety, at the complacency, that had made him think that he could do anything to stop what was happening here. Thinking on it, he realised that even before Erik had received the tip about the hotel, when he had promised Charles that he was ending this for good and letting Shaw go – even then it could never have worked. Erik needed this, he saw that now. He understood it in a way that he had not before, even when he had been inside Erik’s mind. How Erik must have despised him for trying to intervene, he thought bitterly.
He knew, deep within the very fibre of his being, that one of the two men before him would die tonight.
He could only pray that that man would not be Erik.
It wasn’t that Charles wasn’t sticking by his own principles. It was merely that he was finally beginning to realise that his principles were not for everyone. Erik had been right – Charles had been trying to force his own morality on him, under the impression, as always, that he was the one that knew best, that it was up to him to enlighten others on things that he had no business interfering with. But who knew better than Erik what it was that Sebastian Shaw deserved? He’d been the one to live it, to experience it, to feel every single painful second of their time together. He’d lived it and he had come through the other side stronger, tougher and more determined, with a mind brighter than any other that Charles had ever seen. He couldn’t say that he wouldn’t have come out infinitely more damaged himself if it had been he in Shaw’s clutches, and not Erik.
Swallowing bitterly at his own foolishness in coming here without thought or plan, Charles turned his full attention back to the men in front of him. Both men were close, little more than arm’s length away from each other, Erik hovering just out of Shaw’s reach even while pummelling Shaw with iron fists, trying once again to drive him into the steel trap waiting just behind him.
But even as Charles watched, Erik seemed to stumble over something in the loose rock of the floor of the scrap yard and, for the slightest moment, he faltered.
That was enough. Quick as a flash, Shaw darted forward and, placing his palm flat against Erik’s stomach, pushed a bolt of power out at him. There was a blast and suddenly Erik was hurtling through the air, crashing painfully into a mountain of metal sheeting. Charles let out a shout of fear and before he knew it, was on his feet and running towards Erik, fear making the blood thunder loudly in his ears. Erik had been severely injured even before Shaw’s attack; he dreaded to think of the damage done by Shaw’s blow this time.
‘Erik!’ he said urgently, clambering over the clumps of metal around him until he was at Erik’s feet. He quickly sank down to Erik’s side and pressed his fingers against his pulse. ‘Erik!’
There was a groan and then Erik turned his head, and Charles was alarmed to see the hollow expression in hiss eyes. To make matters worse, there was a jagged cut across Erik’s hairline that was bleeding profusely and it made Charles shudder to consider what might have happened if that cut was any deeper.