Title The third who walks always beside you 13/19
Fandom X-Men First Class
Pairings Erik Lehnsherr/Charles Xavier/Gabrielle Haller, in all possible combinations.
Beta
World count of chapter 7394
Word count of entire fic 94 000
Rating/warnings NC-17. Sexual situations, mental illness, professional misconduct, period homophobia, ableism and racism as well as casual misogyny, discussion of genocide and sexual abuse.
Disclaimer Marvels owns it, not I.
Summary After a chance meeting, the recently reunited mutant school-master and leader of the Brotherhood both become fascinated by Gabrielle Haller, a human who has demons of her own to fight. As Erik finds himself pulled between his mutant identity and his human heritage, Charles wrestles with his own ethical code and his attraction to his friend. The innocent distraction between the three of them rapidly grows more complicated and, ultimately, altogether more sinister.


The first thought Charles had when he woke was of the things Erik had said to him last night. The pain followed shortly after. Even the memory of his words filled him with spiritual agony, which made him want to sob and hide his face in his hands. He recalled every accusation and every insult - that he was a hypocrite, that he wanted Erik to hate Gaby, that he was in love with her for all the wrong reasons, that he did not truly feel anything... It would have been bad enough to just hear those things, but the timing had made it all worse. He had been so happy, which had probably been part of the reason they had started fighting.

It hurt too much to linger on, and getting out of bed seemed like the best way of distracting himself. Charles washed and dressed and called for breakfast with all the commitment of an automaton. When the breakfast arrived, he realised that he had no appetite. Still he knew that he had to eat something, so he sipped his tea and nibbled on some toast. His throat felt tight, and more than once he had to pause to compose himself. He would not let himself weep over this. He had done that enough yesterday night. By the time he had fallen asleep, he had been raw with crying. It was the kind of display of emotion he might allow himself in the dead of night, but not now, even if he was alone. It would still be humiliating to give in.

How silly, he thought, that this had started simply because he had tried to push away his worries. But perhaps it had been inevitable. Maybe the dam was bound to break as soon as he gave into the temptation of sleeping with Erik. That thought made him feel suddenly indignant. Why should he not have given into the temptation? Why must their love be this infected, twisted thing that reared against them? Why could Erik not be right about that at least? That made him think about the worst part. When Erik had said the things he had, he had been angry, but that was not the worse of it. It was the disappointment, the sense of betrayal, the sorrow for the things Charles did which he should not do, that hurt especially. Erik had expected better from him, and he had failed him.

Charles put down his teacup with a clatter and tried to steady himself with deep breaths. He was being ridiculous. If he did not get a grip, he might have to take one of those calming pills Hank had given him a while back when his nerves had been in a bad state. Charles disliked them, because they made him feel unfocused, and his telepathy became more difficult to control, but perhaps he was getting to the stage where he needed them. But no, he was not going to let Erik get the better of him. It was half past nine, and he had said he would call Gaby in the morning. He would prove Erik wrong. He longed for her, even if he had no idea what he would say, and he would not want to admit to being this upset. That gave him a reason to calm down a little. After a few more deep breaths and another sip of tea, the prospect of speaking on the phone did not feel at all daunting. With a new sense of purpose, he left his breakfast half-finished and wheeled himself over to telephone.

Having dialled her number, Charles listened to the signals in the receiver, and imagined the phone in Gaby’s flat ringing. He pictured her curled up in an armchair with a book. When she heard the phone ring, she would scramble up to get it. She would know it was him, and that would make her smile when she picked it up. She’ll pick it up now, very soon, he thought. After the next signal. Or the next... But the signals continued. The phone must be ringing in an empty house.

Charles put the receiver down and looked at it, uncertain. Perhaps Gaby had been called into the office, even if they had said she would have the morning off. Perhaps she had gone for a walk, or to the library. Perhaps she was still asleep. There was so many explanation to why she did not pick up which were completely harmless, but, true to his agitated mood, the alarming reasons presented themselves to Charles first. He stayed by the telephone, as if staring at it would make her call. Finally he picked up the receiver and dialed her number again. The signals came, but no answer. He felt a rising sense of dread, and reminded himself to keep composed. No, he needed someone to tell him he was being silly. He knew it verged on masochism, but Erik’s disappointment would be welcome now. Besides, this was not about them at all, only about Gaby.

The lift-boy watched him curiously on the way up, but did not talk to him, which he was grateful for. When Charles knocked on Erik’s door, he felt his mind on the other side of the door. As clearly as if he had had his hand on Erik’s chest, he sensed his heart jump with excitement, interrupted by the memory of last night. His footsteps were hesitant, but they crossed to the door, which then opened. Erik’s face was wary as he looked down at him.

‘What are you doing here?’ he asked dully, as if simply seeing him hurt. Charles found himself momentarily speechless, forgetting what he had come for. He wanted to rage against him and beat his fists against his chest, but he also wanted to embrace him and not let go. Then he shook himself.

‘It’s Gaby,’ he said quickly. ‘She’s not answering her phone.’

‘It’s a Thursday,’ Erik said. ‘She’s in the office.’ He made to close the door, but Charles held out his hand.

‘Erik!’ It would have been easy for him to ignore him and retreat, but instead he hesitated. Now that he had his attention, Charles explained: ‘She’s not working this morning. She told me when I talked to her yesterday. I said I’d call.’ Erik hesitated in the doorway, not seeming certain whether to acknowledge his worry or wave it away.

‘She might have gone out.’

‘Yes, but...’ he trailed off. ‘I just have a bad feeling.’

‘You’re a telepath, not a precog, Charles,’ Erik said with a sigh, but there was a certain amount of fondness in his voice.

‘I didn’t mean it like that, it’s just...’ Erik’s shoulder slumped, giving in.

‘Fine. We’ll go see her,’ he said. ‘It’ll be a surprise visit.’

It took them a few minutes to collect their outdoor things, but soon, Erik hailed a cab and helped Charles into the backseat. The taxi driver was watching the wheelchair suspiciously.

‘That thing won’t fit in the trunk,’ he said.

‘It’ll fit fine,’ Erik replied gruffly as he collapsed the chair.

‘Too much hassle, mister. Not worth the time. Why don’t you just walk?’ Already tired of this, Charles gave him a mental nudge, and instead of hovering over Erik, the driver stepped into the car and waited meekly until Erik had stored the wheelchair away safely and gotten in himself. As they drove down the street, Erik cleared his throat and said, his reluctance obvious:

‘Thank you.’

‘I couldn’t let you deal with the problems I cause,’ Charles said.

‘I could have handled it.’ They sat in awkward silence for a while, then Erik said: ‘Look, Charles...’ He raised a hand, silencing him.

‘Please, let’s not talk about it.’

‘How can we not talk about it?’ Erik challenged him.

‘Can we do it somewhere else? Sometime else?’ His voice came close to breaking. In a whisper, he said: ‘Some of the things you said were very hurtful.’ Erik looked straight at him. Charles could not tell whether what he saw in his eyes was regret or defiance. Then he turned away.

‘Let’s talk about it later,’ he muttered and looked out of the window instead. They were just rounding the block by then, close enough for Charles to pick out the individual minds in the building. One was particularly familiar.

‘She’s there,’ he said under his breath. He saw Erik’s mouth thinning, but it was the only concession to his worry.

Soon the taxi stopped outside the front door. As Erik paid the driver and got out the wheelchair, Charles sat in the back seat, his fingers to his temple as he tried to concentrate.

‘Well?’ Erik asked when Charles pulled himself into the chair. He must have noticed his frown, because then he added: ‘Do you have anything?’

‘It’s strange, I can’t seem to reach her,’ Charles said. Erik frowned back.

‘What do you mean? Is something blocking you? What could block you?’

‘I’m not being blocked,’ Charles said as Erik pushed him into the house. ‘It’s not like when another telepath puts up barriers, it’s more as if... she’s further away than she really is.’ He concentrated again, pushing at Gaby’s mind. It would not wield. ‘I think we should hurry.’ Erik quickened his step, and even before they had reached the door, announced:


‘The door’s still locked.’

‘Let’s knock.’ Erik rapped his fist against it and waited.

‘Gaby?’ he called. ‘It’s us, Gaby.’ Charles could sense no acknowledgement that she heard them. The only thing that changed was that he suddenly felt quite cold. He supposed it was nerves.

‘Unlock it,’ he told him.

Erik did not argue, but turned his hand, and the lock drew back with a click. He stepped in first, calling, ‘Gaby?’ Charles followed. The sensation of terror was so sudden that it felt almost like a punch to the stomach, making him double up and call out in pain. Erik swirled around, his eyes growing in alarm. Forgetting why they were there and why he was angry at him, he grabbed his shoulders urgently. ‘Charles?’

‘It’s Gaby,’ Charles gasped. He was shivering, even if the room was warm. ‘The bathroom!’ Erik bounded through the hall and pulled at the locked door. Arduously, Charles straightened up and wheeled himself forward into the narrow hall, as Erik unlocked the door and threw it open.

Charles could not see her, and it was not until Erik ran in and swore that he realised where she was. From the hall, he watched how Erik plunged his arms into the bathtub and pulled out a soaked figure. The water ran off her body as he lifted her up. There’s no blood, Charles thought, his throat still tight with fear. Thank God, there’s no blood. The gratitude only lasted for a second. The body Erik had pulled from the bath was not blood-stained, but it was so pale it might as well have been bled. As Erik knelt and lowered her down onto the floor, he saw that her limp fingers were almost blue.

‘Erik, be careful with her,’ he whispered, even if he knew that Erik did not need telling. Taking care not to shake her, he leaned close to her face to feel for her breath and pressed his fingers against her throat. When he looked up at Charles, relief was written on his face. His nod acknowledged what Charles already knew. He nodded back, feeling choked.

‘I can’t read her,’ he murmured. ‘I can feel her mind, but I can’t get in... I don’t know what that means...’

‘What do we do?’ Erik asked urgently as he cradled her in his arms.

‘Take off that nightgown, towel her off, get her into bed,’ Charles said quickly. Erik pulled off the nightgown, made transparent by the water, towelled her dry as best he could and then took off his jacket to wrap her in before he picked her up. Charles led the way into the bedroom. The bed was unmade, and a book lay on it, a pencil between the pages. Charles put it aside and moved back a little to give Erik space to put her down. Then he stepped aside again and let Charles roll closer again.

‘Check for more blankets,’ he told him and pulled the covers over her. He heard Erik leave without a word. Leaning closer, he took Gaby’s hand. It was ice-cold. Shifting his grip to take her pulse, he felt her heart racing. That at least was a good sign - her body was trying to warm itself up. However, she was barely shaking, which was bad. Why was she in the water? Why cold water? he thought to himself. He tried to read her mind again. It felt like a fortress, impregnable to him. He could break through, of course, but shattering those walls would harm her. Was this it? he wondered. Had the temptation to let go and slip into catatonia become too great to resist? He had assumed she was unconscious because of the hypothermia, but now he thought this was something else. He rounded the walls of her mind, not built to keep him out but to keep her in. They did not encompass all her mind, he realised now, only parts of them. Her short-term memory was still open to him, and without hesitating he entered it.

The thirst comes with the memories, brought on by a dream. It burns in her throat. She gulps down the water in the glass at the bedside, but it is not enough. She knows that there is more - it runs beneath her feet, and the turn of a tap will send it flowing - so she rises and goes into the bathroom. She drinks from the tap, awkwardly bent over to catch every drop. She drinks and drinks, but her mouth is still too dry. She cannot get the taste of dirt out of it. Her stomach protests, and she is sick. It is mostly bile and gastric juices mixed with water, and it makes the taste worse. She tries to wash it out, but dares not spit out the water out, because it is such a precious thing. But here it is common-place, she reminds herself. She turns to the bathtub. If she wants to, she can fill it up. Perhaps if she lowers herself into it, she’ll feel clean. Perhaps she can drown her thirst. She puts the plug in and gets in without taking her nightgown off, and lets the cold water run over her head. She gasps at the cold, afraid at first. After a while, she turns off the tap and sinks into the water. She surrenders.

Charles broke from the memory with a gasp. For a wild moment, he was afraid that replaying it might have worsened Gaby’s condition, but she seemed unchanged. At that moment, Erik came back, carrying a pile of blankets.

‘How is she?’ he asked as he put them down at the foot of the bed.

‘In a bad way,’ Charles sighed and stroked her hair from her face. It was still damp, and her skin was clammy.

‘Should we take her to hospital?’

‘No need, as things are now,’ Charles said. ‘I can take care of her here. But I need the bag from my room.’ Erik nodded curtly.

‘I’ll get it.’

With those words, he left quickly. Charles felt his heart tighten at the sight, his love for the man suddenly rising. He pushed it aside, turning back to his other love, lying cold and unresponsive before him. By the look of her, she might as well be dead. It was not just the cold water that had done it, but the absence of her person. He could not do anything about the latter, only the former. He took one of the blankets from the foot of the bed and started tucking her in, while he murmured assuring things she would not hear.

He had just finished that when Erik came running into the apartment again, the requested leather bag in his hand. It had been little more than a minute since he left.

‘How did you manage that?’ Charles said incredulously as handed it over.

‘I called Azazel.’ He looked up, not quite believing what he was hearing.

‘You called one of the Brotherhood to Gaby’s apartment?’ he exclaimed.

‘The alley behind the house, actually,’ Erik said. ‘And I didn’t tell him who lived where we went. I figured time was of essence.’ Charles realised that it had probably been the best course of action.

‘Thank you, I suppose,’ he said and found a thermometer. ‘Will you look if there’s a hot water-bottle somewhere? We need to bring her temperature up.’ While Charles examined Gaby, he could hear Erik going through the kitchen cupboards. It took him a long time before he finally found one, hidden away in the wardrobe. Once it had been filled and they had covered her with another blanket, Erik sat down on the bed. On the other side, Charles sat, the stethoscope slung around his neck. He felt reluctant to put it down altogether, in case he needed it quickly. It was one of the great ironies that nothing calmed frazzled nerves quite as well as an emergency. It felt like all that was left now was surface anxiety, which made him wring his hands. Idly, he watched how Erik stroked Gaby’s hair. His face was unreadable.

After a long while, he asked:

‘Why was she in the bath? In the cold water?’

Charles swallowed and kept his eyes averted.

‘She had a flashback,’ he explained. ‘From the camps. She remembered the thirst and thought... it might help.’ When he looked up at Erik, he saw the incomprehension in his eyes.

‘How could it possibly help?’ he asked. Charles shrugged, hoping Erik would leave it at that, but he did not. ‘Are you sure?’

‘Positive.’

‘But why? That makes no sense...’

‘Of course it doesn’t make sense,’ he snapped. Erik looked up at him, shocked. Charles closed his eyes and breathed in. ‘It made sense to her at the time. She wasn’t thinking straight. She...’ He made a helpless gesture, but he knew that there was no way out of this. ‘Her perception of reality is off sometimes - badly off. It’s a quite common symptom, in schizophrenics.’

Erik stared more than looked at him.

‘She’s a schizophrenic?’ Charles gave a curt nod. Perhaps he should not have told him that, but it was too late to take it back. He sensed Erik’s worry darkening into disbelief. ‘No,’ he murmured. ‘She can’t be. She seems...’

Charles rubbed his eyes and sighed.

‘It comes in episodes,’ he explained. ‘After the war, she withdrew into a state of catatonia. She locked herself in into her own body. She didn’t come out of it until in her twenties. Since then, it’s just happened sporadically. Sometimes she retreats into a psychotic state, sometimes she withdraws into herself, but as far as I know... not as badly as this.’

They both looked at the girl lying still in the bed.

‘I thought she was unconscious,’ Erik said finally.

‘No,’ Charles sighed. ‘She’s building walls around her mind. She’s trying to escape reality.’ Erik drew his fingers over her cheek, stunned at what he was hearing.

‘Can’t you help her?’

Charles wondered if he had ever heard Erik ask for something so pleadingly.

‘Not enough,’ he sighed.

‘But you can break through mental walls,’ he said, looking at him with hectic eyes. ‘If you forced your way in...’ Charles shook his head.

‘It would harm her. The damage I’d cause might be irreparable. Even if it didn’t... she’d become dependent on my telepathy. It would weaken her mind. I’m sorry, Erik, there is nothing I can do. She needs to wake up on her own.’ Erik looked back at Gaby and stroked her forehead.

‘What happens if she doesn’t?’

Charles swallowed.

‘Then we have no choice than to take her to the hospital.’

‘And then?’

‘Most likely, they’d commit her, keep her there, medicate her.’ Just thinking about it made his stomach knot up. He did not want it to be the solution, yet he knew that if she did not get better, it was the only one.

‘She’s still so cold,’ Erik murmured.

‘She’s warming up,’ Charles promised.

‘Is there really nothing you can do?’ he asked, looking desperate. Charles shook his head.

‘No. No more than this.’ Erik looked down at Gaby, away from Charles. Evidently, he did not feel that it was enough.

They sat in silence, oblivious of each other and only concentrated on Gaby. Charles wished he could think of something to say, but he was not certain if he wanted to talk to Erik, although by now he had realised that that usually meant that he actually did want it. He had been right yesterday. With Erik it was easy, but with Gaby - with the three of them - it was complicated. But the memory of last night seemed to burn him. What a coincidence, he reflected, that the very night when he gave in to his attraction to Erik, Gaby lost her mind. He reached out and brushed her damp hair out of her forehead. He could feel the walls of her mind, growing ever higher. She had started to shiver, and soon it was so violent that her teeth chattered. Erik caught Charles’ eye, but he nodded, communicating that there was no danger.

After more than an hour, Gaby’s eyes opened. Erik, who had leaned against the bed-board, straightened up, eyes going wide.

‘Gaby?’

‘She’s not there,’ Charles said softly and, despite himself, touched Erik’s hand. Erik swallowed noisily and took hold of it. It was a moment of sincerity, but it was quickly broken. Erik pulled away and settled back onto the bed, his worried eyes on Gaby. Charles closed his hand, the touch fading fast into a memory. Hoping that it might distract him, he lit a cigarette. The silence made his skin crawl. Gaby’s eyes were wide-open, but they did not see anything, just as she did not feel when Erik touched her cheek, or when Charles leaned in to feel her pulse. He wondered what went on behind the mental walls she had built. Was she at peace there, or was she trapped with her nightmares? There was no way of knowing. He wondered, in the event that he figured out a way to break into her mind, whether he had the right to do so, if she thought it preferable. At least his reluctance saved him from that moral dilemma. He breathed out the smoke with a sigh and rubbed his eyes with his free hand. Erik shifted, but still stroked Gaby’s hair. Charles was surprised at the tenderness written on his face. He wondered now why he himself was not holding her hand. The only way he had touched her was to feel her temperature and her pulse. He looked over at Erik again, at how he watched her staring eyes and dipped his head to kiss her forehead carefully. Charles had always thought that Erik was the broken one whose emotions made no sense, but suddenly he himself felt as if it was his heart that had been crippled, not his legs. It was as if that bullet had made him incapable of truly loving anyone else than his adversary. But you care for her, he thought to himself, and then answered: Of course I care about her. I’m in love with her. But I don’t love her. Not like I love him. It’s not the same thing...

The shrieking of the telephone interrupted his thoughts. Erik straightened up and climbed off the bed.

‘I’ll get it.’

Charles nodded wordlessly. Erik left for the hall, and the phone stopped ringing as he picked it up. As he listened, Charles realised that the cigarette had burned down to his fingers. He stubbed it out on the ashtray on the bedside table, wishing he had thought to bring his pipe. Pushing aside the thought, he turned his gaze onto Gaby and kept it there. She was still shivering and her face was rigid, as if in concentration. She blinked, but her eyes did not stray from the ceiling. From the corridor, he heard Erik’s voice.

‘Hello? ...Yes, this is Miss Haller’s apartment. She can’t come to the phone, she’s very ill... Yes, that is why... No, that’s impossible, miss. When I said “very ill”, I mean it. There’s a doctor with her now.’

Charles sighed.

‘I suppose that’s your superior,’ he said to his unresponsive patient. It felt silly at first, but when he spoke, he realised that it was probably what he needed, even if he probably could not hear him. In the hall, Erik was still arguing with the caller from the office. Charles unlocked the wheels of his chair and moved closer. Her hand looked fragile where it lay, and he picked it up as one would a wounded bird. ‘Gaby,’ he whispered. ‘I’m so sorry. So very sorry. I’ve been such an idiot... am such an idiot.’ He paused and gathered his thoughts. ‘Please, Gaby, you can’t leave us like this,’ he said urgently. ‘You must wake up. Fight it! Don’t let it get the better of you. Please...’ He raised her hand and kissed it, her skin cold against his lips. ‘Please, wake up. What are we going to do without you - me, and Erik, and your aunt...? Gaby...’

Gaby! Gaby! Wake up! He called her with his mind and pressed her hand. From the hall, Charles heard Erik almost shout into the telephone, ‘yes, good-bye!’ and slam down the receiver, but he did not register it. The sensation of something shifting was taking all his attention. The walls around Gaby’s mind were no longer thickening. Instead, they had started waning.

Erik reentered.

‘Those people she works for are terribly unpleasant,’ he announced. ‘They wouldn’t believe...’ Charles hushed him, and suddenly he noticed how his manner had changed. At once, he moved closer.

‘What’s happening?’ Charles looked at him, his vision blurred with tears.

‘It worked,’ he explained. ‘She’s going to wake up.’ Erik gave a deep sigh of relief and, reaching out, pressed both their hands at once.

‘How long?’

‘I don’t know,’ Charles admitted. ‘The barriers are fading, so her consciousness might return at any time.’ Erik nodded and turned his gaze back at Gaby.

Charles sensed the walls breaking down, one mental stone remove at a time, and little by little, life returned to her. The first signs were subtle. She started blinking more frequently, and slowly, her fingers curled around Charles’. The first real sign of consciousness, however, was far more shocking than they expected. Neither of them had expected the scream.

It came so suddenly that Charles almost dropped her hand, and Erik jumped. Suddenly, her mouth opened and emitted a full-throated, high-pitched scream. Then it turned to desperate babbling, which Charles did not understand. She whipped her hand out of his grip and started thrashing. Erik jumped to his feet and tried to keep her steady. She clawed and hit him, trying to make him lose the grip around her arms.

‘Gaby, it’s me - Erik!’

‘She doesn’t recognise you,’ Charles called. ‘She thinks you’re someone else.’ He had thought that he would not interfere with her mind while she was awake, but now he saw no other way. This time he projected no words, but only a deep sense of calm which he himself did not feel. Gaby’s thrashing became half-hearted and with a final jerking motion which looked almost like a convulsion, she slumped against Erik, weeping. Startled, Erik hugged her close. He looked at Charles, and a gaze of assurance passed between them. Erik pressed her against him and hushed her, until she seemed calmer. She was murmuring something, still incomprehensible to Charles.

‘Do you speak Dutch, Erik?’ Erik shook his head.

‘I never had a reason to learn it, but I can understand most of what she’s saying. She’s asking for her mother.’ Charles bit his lip.

‘She’s in shock,’ he said. ‘No wonder, really.’ Erik nodded, but instead of looking at him watched his own hand comb through Gaby’s hair. Then, planting a kiss on her brow, he said something to her in Yiddish, even if she would not understand it. There they sat, murmuring in their mother-tongues which they no longer had anyone to speak with. Erik hugged her as if he was afraid that she might disappear, metaphorically or physically. Charles sat beside them, excluded from their embrace.

After a long time, he reached out and touched Gaby’s hand, then pressed Erik’s shoulder.

‘Erik, she’s still too cold,’ he said softly. ‘We should cover her up again.’ Slowly, Erik let go of her and made her lie down. He rose, and Charles pulled the covers over her, happy for the small kindnesses he could show.

‘What can I do?’ Erik asked, as if now when he had let go of her, he felt inadequate.

‘She need something hot to drink,’ Charles instructed. ‘Something she can take on an empty stomach. Tea, or cocoa. Do you think you could manage that?’ Erik nodded and left for the kitchen. When Charles turned back to Gaby, he realised that she was watching him. Her eyes were only half-open, but there was life in her face.

‘Welcome back,’ he said, trying to sound light. Something reminiscent of a smile changed her expression.

‘Charles.’ Charles laughed with relief.

‘Yes, that’s me,’ he said and stroked her cheek. ‘You’re alright now, Gaby. You’re safe.’ A shiver ran through her again. At least her colour was better now, and seeing her move was a great relief. She rolled over to her side and curled into a ball, only half her face visible under the blankets. She said something in a pitiful tone that made him think that she complained about being cold. ‘You’ll feel better soon,’ he assured her. ‘Erik’s getting you something to warm you up. You’ll be right as rain.’ He looked into her eyes, which peeked up from behind the covers. ‘You understand what I’m saying, don’t you? You’re just a little too shaken up to manage to speak in English.’ She gave no real reply, but he sensed that he was right.

He had expected Erik to take longer than he did, but soon he came back, carrying a large cup of hot chocolate in both hands. They left it on the bedside table as they helped Gaby into a new nightgown, carefully matching her sluggish movements. Charles worried that she might spill the chocolate over herself if she tried to drink out of the cup, so he gave it to her by the spoonful. She looked strangely childish where she lay propped up with pillows, which seemed to make her shrink. She would still not speak English, and her reactions were slower than usual, but he could sense her mind trying to bring itself into balance again.

Charles must have been running on adrenaline since she started waking up, because now he felt himself slowly weakening. The sound of their minds was pushing against his head, and even the concentration of keeping the spoon steady and not spilling the cocoa made him feel a low-key kind of panic. Finally, he put down the spoon and said:

‘Will you give her the rest?’ Erik rose from where he had been sitting on the other side of the bed.

‘Where are you going?’ he asked.

‘Nowhere, I just... need a moment.’ Giving no further explanation, he turned and headed for the kitchen. It was not much of an improvement, but at least the distance silenced the worst of the stray thoughts. There was no logic to how this suddenly hit. He supposed part of it might be shock from the events of the morning. He had a sudden urge of bolting, but he could not, for more than one reason. Instead, he buried his face in his hands and tried to compose himself. It all spun around his head - Erik showing him his tattoo and asking, ‘is this all I am to you?’, Gaby being lifted from the water, his own confusion about what he felt, what he wanted and what he did not want, and both implicating the same thing, and most of all the coincidence...

‘Charles?’ He looked up, startled. Erik was standing beside him, looking down at him. ‘Are you alright?’

Charles straightened up and took a deep breath.

‘You shouldn’t leave Gaby alone,’ he said instead. ‘Not when she’s like this...’

‘She’s asleep.’

‘Oh... oh. Alright.’ He swallowed, trying to gather his thoughts. Erik leaned against the table so that they were face to face. Reluctantly, Charles looked up, and saw his worried eyes.

‘This isn’t your fault,’ Erik said quietly. ‘It has nothing to do with what happened yesterday.’ Charles struggled to speak, flustered at the fact that he had been so obvious.

‘She could have died!’ he exclaimed. ‘Another half hour... or if she’d slipped into the water...’ Erik waved his hand to silence him.

‘But that didn’t happen,’ he concluded. Charles opened his mouth to press on, but Erik spoke first. ‘Charles, you can’t save people from themselves.’

‘But it’s what I do,’ he objected.

‘Then try, but it’s not your fault if you fail,’ Erik reasoned. ‘And if you need to blame yourself... at least do it when it is your fault, not over something like this. You make it sound like this is some case of divine retribution.’

‘I know it doesn’t make any sense, but...’

Erik sighed, sounding almost amused at his friend’s obstinacy.

‘And there is no way Gaby could have known what happened between us,’ he said. ‘It has nothing to do with that.’ He stopped and thought through something. ‘You said she did it because she thought it’d make the thirst go away.’

‘Yes.’

‘So she didn’t mean to...?’ Charles shook his head.

‘No. It wasn’t a suicide attempt, thank God.’ Had that been the case, his guilt would have been even greater. ‘I know you’re right, Erik. It’s just...’ he made a helpless gesture. Erik pressed his lips together.

‘Yes, I know.’ Then he swore under his breath and sat back on the table, looking suddenly miserable. ‘I was too hard on you yesterday,’ he admitted. ‘I was angry, and I was drunk. I hope you can forgive me.’

‘I hope you can forgive me,’ Charles said, relieved and distressed at the same time. ‘I don’t know, but... perhaps you’re right. Perhaps I’m just the faithless bastard you say I am.’ Erik smiled sorrowfully.

‘Never faithless, Charles,’ he said. ‘Simply too generous with your affection. It is not my business why you care for her.’

‘I do, you know,’ Charles said, barely managing to keep his voice steady. ‘Care for her. It’s just... I always forget what a huge thing it is, caring for someone. It frightens me.’ He looked him in the eye, facing up to his fears. ‘And it frightens me how much I still want to be with you. How much I want things to be the way they were all those years ago.’ Erik looked down at the floor.

‘It was just three years ago.’

‘It feels like longer than that.’

Erik nodded, sighing.

‘Yes, it does.’

They were silent, until Charles asked:

‘Did you start flirting with her to annoy me?’ Erik hung his head, but laughed.

‘Guilty as charged.’ Charles swallowed.

‘And I courted her because I didn’t dare to approach you,’ he sighed. ‘At least at first.’ Erik reached out and pressed his arm.

‘She deserves better than being caught between us like this,’ he concluded, voicing both their thoughts. ‘Sooner or later, she will become drawn into affairs that do not concern her - that would hurt her.’

‘But we can’t just leave her,’ Charles objected, whispering now. ‘You must have realised now, if not before, how fragile her mind is. If we both suddenly disappear, it could mean the death of her. And even if it came to a situation where she might get involved, there’s no saying she would. Although, with connections to both of us, the government would probably see her as a security risk. But anyhow, most importantly, I don’t wantménage à trois</i>! Especially not one like this.’ The smile Erik gave him was surprisingly compassionate, but it still surprised him when he reached out and embraced him. Charles rested his head against his chest gratefully. They stayed in the embrace, Charles’ ear pressed against Erik’s heart and Erik’s lips against Charles’ hair. Then:

‘Charles?’

When he let go of Erik and looked up. In the doorway stood Gaby, grabbing the doorframe for support. Her eyes were wide-open and lucid, but she was pale and swayed dangerously on her feet.

‘Gaby, you shouldn’t be up!’ he exclaimed. By then Erik had already hurried over to her and caught her in an embrace before she fell. She hummed in surprise, realising whose chest she was pressed again.

‘You’re both here...’ she murmured. Charles sighed in relief.

‘Yes, we are, darling.’ He nodded to Erik.

‘You’re going back into bed,’ Erik told her and picked her up, an arm under her back and one under her knees. Charles followed him as he carried her out of the kitchen and into the bedroom.

‘My head...’ she whimpered, and leaned said head against Erik’s shoulder. ‘It’s pounding.’

‘You’re very weak,’ Erik explained and put her down on the bed. A shiver passed through her when he tucked her in.

‘How are you feeling?’ Charles asked, as he maneuvered closer.

‘Cold,’ she said. ‘And hungry.’ He smiled, pleased with what she said.

‘Erik, are you any good in the kitchen?’ Erik nodded.

‘I’ll see what you can do.’

Gaby remained silent as Charles examined her, surrendering completely. Her gaze was on the far wall, a little absent but not dangerously so. When he was satisfied, he put his instruments back and asked:

‘Do you remember anything?’ Gaby turned to look at him and frowned. She was searching through her recent memories and tried to make sense of them.

‘No... or, yes. I’m not sure. I.... had a nightmare. I woke up, and I was so thirsty...’

‘So you got into the bath?’ She nodded, as if taking his word for it. Charles sighed and joined his hands. ‘Gaby...’ She drew back and stared at him, eyes wide with terror.

‘I’m sorry,’ she whispered.

‘I’m not angry at you,’ he assured her gravely. ‘But you must promise me never to do that again. Ever.’ She looked down, as if it were hopeless.

‘How can I? If I’m... not myself...’

‘Then you must try,’ he intoned. ‘Please, Gaby. You could have died. You could have relapsed completely...’ He broke off. As he spoke, Gaby had hung her head, her hair hiding her face. Charles reached out and tucked the curtain of hair behind her ear. A tear was trailing down her cheek. He wiped it away. ‘I don’t mean to upset you,’ he said, softer now. ‘I’m just worried for you.’ She sniffed and shrugged.

‘I’m sorry to have disappointed you.’ Charles frowned.

‘Disappointed me? What do you mean?’

‘You said I was strong... that I resisted,’ she sighed. ‘You were wrong.’ He took her hand.

‘No, I wasn’t,’ he said. ‘You can’t be strong without having been weak.’ She glanced at him, but dared not hold his gaze. Nevertheless, she pressed his hand.

The afternoon was by no means as upsetting as the morning. Steadily, Gaby grew stronger. She slept a lot, and her lovers sat on either side of her, holding her hands. Charles went back briefly to the hotel, and made sure to take a stack of books and the pills with him. He left a few in an envelope, though, in case he would be needing them. Back in Gaby’s flat, they did not speak much. Mostly, they smoked and watched Gaby drifting in and out of her slumber. By four o’clock, Charles was growing restless. Finally, Erik rose from the bed and crossed to him. He stopped behind him and put his hands on his shoulders.

‘Charles, you don’t have to stay, you know.’ He waved his hand, dismissing the suggestion.

‘Of course I have to stay.’

‘You can barely move around this place,’ Erik pointed out. ‘I see that you find it distressing. Why don’t you go back to the hotel for the evening? I’ll stay here tonight.’ Now Charles looked up at him, over his shoulder.

‘What if something happens?’

‘Is anything likely to happen?’ Charles shrugged.

‘One can never know.’ Erik smiled.

‘I’ll call,’ he promised. ‘And if it’s urgent, I’ll send Azazel for you. If it gets that bad, keeping this from the Brotherhood will not be important.’ For some reason, that made an impression on Charles. He had expected that Erik would value the Brotherhood over anything, even him and Gaby, but not so. It showed a new side to him. Charles’ shoulders slumped in submission.

‘Fine,’ he said. ‘You’re right, I suppose. I could do with the rest. Didn’t really get much sleep last night.’ Erik grinned in sympathy and let go of him.

Gaby was almost asleep, but when Charles wheeled closer and leaned in to kiss her, she stirred.

‘Hm?’

‘I’m going, Gaby.’ She blinked a few times.

‘Why?’

‘I need to get some rest. Besides, I have none of my medication here. I’ll be back in the morning.’ At the sight of Gaby’s disappointed pout, he put a finger under her chin and pushed it up a little. ‘There. I won’t be long, and Erik’s staying with you. Do you think you’ll be alright?’ She nodded and let herself be kissed. A light mental command was all it took to send her back to sleep.

Erik followed him out into the hallway and opened the door for him, so that he could turn.

‘Please take care of her,’ he said sincerely.

‘Of course I will,’ Erik said. Charles smiled.

‘Thank you.’ He reached out his hand to him, but Erik ignored it and instead kissed him full on the mouth.

‘I’ll see you in the morning,’ he murmured against his lips. Charles stroked his hair and nodded. Then he broke the embrace and straightened up. The door closed. The coming night may be restful, but it would be lonely.

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