wecanavenge | ✘ | 015

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✘ | 015 | VIDEO

[When the camera clicks on, there's just the Cloverfield/Blair Witch Project effect: everything is shaky and slow to focus. The feed shows one of the suites, and the movement blurs things over - is that confetti on the floor, or just dust? Is the drapery meant to be that red, or was something splattered there? But there isn't long to dwell on those mysteries, because the camera finally focuses on Erik. His eyes are wide, and a little wild; at first the camera is too close as he shifts his grip on the device, and that's all there is to see: very wide, very angry eyes.]

Shh, [he says sharply, pulling the communicator back again. The door into the hall is behind him, and wide open.] Can you hear it?

[Maybe you'll hear nothing. It's faint, certainly, and Erik scowls, glancing around.] Shh, shh!

[And then, just maybe, you'll hear a song drifting up. It's old, decades old, but he recognizes it. His eyes leave the device, and he stares at something off screen for a moment. Then he lets go of the communicator, and for a moment, the camera is in free fall - but it lifts again, steadier this time, without Erik's hand holding it. It hovers in front of him again. Behind him, the door is closed.

Some of the anger clears from his face, and as the song gets louder - for him, at least, he joins in the verse.]

Il me dit des mots d’amour
Des mots de tous les jours
Et ça me fait quelque chose

Il est entré dans mon coeur
Une part de bonheur
Dont je connais la cause.

[For a moment, everything is still and (mostly) quiet. Then the anger floods back, and Erik waves his hand; the communicator is thrown across the room, where it falls, propped up against the wall. It has a good view of the suite, and of the damage Erik is doing to it. Mirrors shatter as their metal frames twist in on themselves, drawers with metal runners launch themselves out of dressers and desks, the room seems to destroy itself. And Erik steps into the frame amid the wreckage, pointing at - well. At what might be nothing, or what might be a man in a silver helmet.]

You son of a bitch! You son of a bitch, you turn it off!

[He sweeps his arms wildly, and cracks appear along the ceiling; dust filters down on the communicator, and then there is nothing as beams fall on it.]

[Spam for Charles]

[He has to get out of here. Charles was right, he was so right, everything is wrong here. Because Shaw is here. Schmidt. Erik has seen him - how many times, now? Once in the helmet, twice in the glasses and suit he was so fond of in Germany. He left his communicator in the suite when he barreled out of there, abandoning everything. He doesn't even stop to find a jacket, or gloves - glad only in his turtleneck, Erik rushes down the main stairs, swings his arm to throw the front door open ahead of him, and rushes out into the snow. He's soaked halfway up his calves in seconds, and it's frigid, but he doesn't stop.

Du und ich werden viel Spaß zusammen haben. He spins to the side, but can't see Schmidt, can't even hear him anymore. Over his harsh breathing, and the shivering in his limbs, there is only the quiet of snow falling.]

[Spam for Tosh]

[He was still shivering, even after sitting in front of the fire in the lobby for a long few minutes. His clothes were still damp, and so was the blanket he'd found laying about and wrapped around his shoulders, but it didn't matter. He was already warmer, and he didn't much feel like venturing back up toward the rooms to find dry clothes. He didn't feel like venturing back there at all, certainly not to retrieve his communicator.

Charles had left him to warm up, though not to be alone with his thoughts; Erik knew that Charles was handling this place poorly, that it was wreaking havoc on his mind, but - and he couldn't help the sardonic little smile - he wasn't alone in that. Charles had gone off to actually eat or sleep, two things he hadn't done much of since getting here, and that was fine with Erik.

Being alone was nothing new for him.

And so far, everything had been normal. Schmidt wasn't whispering in his ear anymore, wasn't telling him that the pain would stop once he learned to control his gift. But that had been a lit, because the pain had never stopped. Erik shook his head to clear his thoughts, and stood, grabbing for the poker to stoke the fire higher.]

(OOC: Lyrics translation: 'He speaks to me words of love/Words of every day/And it makes me something/He has entered my heart/A place of happiness/Of which I understand the reason.' For maximum dear God why-ness. The German is 'You and I are going to have a lot of fun together.')

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[Charles isn't exactly bothering to erect much of a barrier between their minds right now, and the thought makes him want to be sick, because as much as they don't agree, even though everything he seems to hear about their future has the two of them as enemies rather than friends, he really doesn't want to live in a world without his friend, and he's not going to let him freeze to death out here in the snow.]

He's gone, Erik, Shaw's not here. He's dead. It's over. [We killed him was the desperate, painful thought, because Charles was just as accountable, wasn't he? He was a murderer, too.

His hands were cold. He hadn't had time to grab gloves before following Erik out here, and he swallowed thickly, trying to fight past the tightness in his throat.]

I don't know what's happening, but please come back inside.

He is here! [Erik pushes himself up on his knees, waving blindly toward the hotel.] He's there, just the same as - like it never--

[But that's crazy. Shaw died; Erik felt every second, ever millimeter of it as he pushed the coin through his creator's brain. Not even Herr Doktor could survive that. Not even him. They all had their limits, and Erik had shoved Shaw past his own.

He's dead he's dead he's dead he's dead

But he was just in the room--

Erik shakes his head violently, and grabs a fistful of snow to press against his face. It's icy, and the cold is sharp and painful at first, but it numbs quickly, soothes.]

You didn't see him?

[Charles didn't say anything, physically biting his lip in an attempt to not let his own thoughts on the subject bleed over, because he'd felt every second of it, too, but he couldn't let him know that, not now. He just watches him, shivering, feeling his face go numb and shakes his head slowly.]

No. I think- [But he didn't think, he knew, didn't he?] Something very bad happened here, Erik, and whatever it was hasn't really left. It's making us see things that we're [He almost chokes on the word, because really, this was something he was afraid of, and he carefully puts a hand on his friend's shoulder again to make sure he's really there.] frightened of. They're not really there.

[He hesitates for a moment before moving to unzip his jacket, pulling it off with numb fingers and throwing it over Erik's shoulders.] Come on, I'm afraid, too. But we're going to get through this, and that can't happen if you freeze to death out here first. [It's somewhere between insistent and pleading, and the snow's already starting to cling to his navy sweater, half melted in his hair.]

[He responds to the coat settling around his shoulders, and as much as much as he's grateful for that warmth, he tries to shrug it off and push it back toward Charles. There's no sense in them both freezing.

Dropping his handful of snow and wiping his face off on his arm, Erik shakes his head, and finally starts to feel like it's clear.]

We should find the Barge.

[Charles just stubbornly pulls the jacket back around Erik, frowning at him even as his teeth chatter uncontrollably. If Erik isn't going to bother looking out for his physical well being, someone else has to, and it was a task he was happy to fulfill.

And that's a good idea, really, because they'll be marginally safer there, but there's one problem.]

You can't feel it at all?

[He stretches out his hand, fingers spread wide - which just makes it easier to see how his hand is shaking, trembling with the cold and...everything else. His arm moves, in this direction and that, but ultimately he clenches his first and pulls his arm close, teeth bared in his frustration.]

No. Not even a hint. [What if the Admiral had left them here? That was a truly horrifying thought. He set his jaw, and glanced at Charles.]

We have to go in. [Charles' teeth were chattering. Though Erik wasn't sure if he'd rather just freeze to death out here, even now. Everything was wrong with that hotel.]

[Charles doesn't bother trying to contact them. He'd already done it, and couldn't feel anyone they'd left behind. Tony might as well have never existed.]

I can't feel them either. [But they didn't leave them here. They'd come back, this would only carry on for a few more days. They'd been rescued when they'd been trapped with the Vanquish. They'd find a way out of this, too. He projected that thought at Erik, and kept the idea maybe we're still on the Barge to himself.

He shifted closer as the wind picked up, shivering, tugging the jacket tighter around his friend's shoulders before wrapping his arms around himself.] I'm frightened, too, but we'll get through this, Erik. Please don't do this. [He might be agreeing to come back inside for now because Charles was cold, but Charles didn't want him trying some other suicidal stunt later on, either. He was afraid of the hotel, but he was more afraid of Erik's suicidal streak making a sudden return, and some of that fear bled over, not entirely intentionally.] Can you stand?

[Suicidal. He'd never thought of himself like that, and desperately wanted to punch something. He settled for the snow, burying his arm almost elbow deep. But slowly, he dragged himself up, pulling the jacket around himself and settling an arm around Charles' shoulders when he could.]

I'm not sorry I killed him. [It's abrupt, apropos of nothing, but he doesn't think he'll ever be sorry for killing Shaw. He would have done it again in that room, if only he'd been able to.]

[Charles put an arm around Erik and slowly moved to help him up to his feet, sticking close for warmth and support and reassurance that this was real and actually happening. He glanced up when he spoke, and quickly looked down again when he spoke.]

I know. [There's a part of him that feels like he should say more than that, because while he can't blame him for wanting revenge, or for killing someone who'd wanted to commit genocide, he can't really fully condone it, either. And again, there was the horrible, nagging memory of what it had felt like to have a coin shoved through your forehead, so he kept his mouth shut.

It was easier to just tighten his arm around his friend and focus on starting to wade back towards the hotel, even though he was still afraid. He'd still rather take his chances of getting out of this alive than freezing to death out in the snow.]

[God, he was cold. He'd been so angry, so incredibly out of his mind that he had barely noticed it, like the pinch of a needle slipping under your skin. Now, he could feel it pierce him to the bone, and he shivered, grateful for Charles' coat. The song still played, but this time it was only in his head, and god he hated Edith Piaf. Swallowing hard, he lapsed into silence on the walk back in, eying the door, the hotel itself, as it loomed.

Abandon Hope, all ye who enter, he thought, and a small but savage smile twisted at his mouth. It was almost disappointing to find his faith in God lacking; but then, his religious education had stopped by the time he was nine. He was reasonably sure there wasn't even an afterlife to imagine Shaw struggling through.

But whatever came after, Erik hoped it was suffering. He'd tolerate his own, as long as Shaw felt it too.]

[Charles was silent apart from his chattering teeth, clinging to Erik and focusing on just putting one foot in front of the other. He was freezing, and he could feel his control starting to slip, picking up on some of what Erik was thinking and probably projecting some of his own thoughts by accident, even if they weren't particularly interesting beyond I'm cold and the hotel seemed farther away than it had been when they'd first run out here.

Still, he almost wanted to change his mind when they actually stood in front of the building. He was freezing, and he knew they wouldn't survive out here, but he really didn't want to go back inside.

He tried to grit his teeth and keep walking. At least it would be warm in there.]

[Erik dragged his feet at the end, and he really was thinking about turning around and freezing out there. But Charles wouldn't let him, and he wouldn't let Charles freeze, so he clenched his teeth tight together and lifted his feet, stepping through the door and into the heat of the hotel. Maybe it was a little like hell. Or a lot.]

[He didn't let go of Erik until they were both standing in front of the fire in the lobby, and it still took Charles a long moment to unlatch himself from his friend. His hands were numb, and felt bleary and confused with cold, but he finally managed to let go of him and clumsily tried to brush melting snow out of his hair and off his face.]

You need a blanket, [He stuttered through chattering teeth, and looked around for one, wrapping his arms around himself in an attempt to conserve heat.] I'll be right back.

Wait, [he said, and, still shivering, pulled the coat off his shoulders and draped it over Charles'. He was getting a blanket, he didn't need the coat. Then he bent to the task of slapping snow off his clothes, and closing the door behind him. The click echoed with finality, and he wanted to just run back out again.]

[Charles frowned but didn't shrug the coat off, just focusing on finding a blanket or two or seven, especially after he'd picked up on that stray thought. He couldn't handle the idea of Erik freezing to death. He couldn't.

He came back quickly with a blanket, and wrapped it around Erik before nudging him over towards one of the couches.]

Here. Sit down, you need to get warm.

Yes, mother. [It was a weak joke, and Erik's teeth had started to chatter when he didn't keep his jaw locked, so the words came out with little clacks. Wrapping the blanket around his torso tightly, Erik shivered hard and sat down hard on the couch, abruptly reminded of their first day here. Now their positions were switched, though, it was his turn to see blood on the walls (in a manner of speaking), and he wondered if Charles was still seeing the impossible, too.]

[Charles mostly felt confused, like there was something he'd meant to do but forgotten everything but the need to do something. The fire didn't seem to be doing much good, even with the jacket, and he was cold and wet and confused.

He wanted to sit next to Erik and huddle together until whatever this was passed and they warmed up, but that was it, wasn't it? They needed dry clothes or more blankets or food or sleep, God, when was the last time he'd slept? He looked dazed, eyes glassy and face pale, his thoughts fuzzy and disconnected.]

We n-need- [He blinked, shivering violently and forcing himself to focus.] Dry clothes. I'll go get some.

All right, [Erik chattered, hunching his shoulders and sitting forward as if it would make him warmer. He shuddered again, and nodded, like he'd forgotten that he already agreed.]

Okay. I'll - wait here. [By the fire. Maybe he ought to move closer, but he couldn't move just yet.]

Erik- [That at least cut through the muddled feeling, and he put a hand on his friend's shoulder, moving in front of him so he could look him right in the eye.]

If you need me, call. I'll be right back.

[Looking up, Erik nodded, and pulled the blanket a little tighter.]

I will. [If he shows up again, is what Erik doesn't add, but he doesn't think he needs to.] Go.

[He doesn't. The idea of Shaw being here at all, let alone following Erik around makes him want to be physically ill, because that's one demon he really doesn't want to face, or to watch his friend go up against again. Shaw was dead. It was over. That should have been the end of it.

He squeezes Erik's shoulder one more time and heads for the stairs. He'll be right back. There's nothing to worry about.]

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