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» Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. countdown to season 2
19 Days - Favorite Cast Member
semi-hiatus question mark?
hey guys, since school has started up, i'm not going to be able to get on as often. today was the first day and i already have a ton of homework. also, play rehearsals will start next week, meaning i have even less time. i'll try to get on whenever i can! but it may not be super often. just late at night or on the weekends. xoxo
sebastenstan -> arthuvdarvill
because doctor who is soon!
Pictures of Brett Dalton
yesterday, an anon asked for an au in which charles was shot in the head instead of the back. i kinda changed it so he was shot in the stomach, and there are probably one hundred million medical inaccuracies, but here it is. (under the cut because it's about three pages!)
----
In books, if someone is shot, the author describes their death eloquently and calmly, with a sense of detachment. The world stills and quiets as the hero begins to die. The man or woman realizes their lives were fulfilling, that they accomplished the mission they were born to do. The sink to the ground gracefully, and accept death with open arms.
Charles realizes that books are utter shit.
His life doesn’t flash before his eyes, and he does not feel fulfilled and peaceful. The only thing he does feel is the bullet ripping through his stomach, tearing through his flesh as if he were made of cobwebs. Charles lets out a short, ear-piercing scream and falls to his knees, feeling the sand part beneath his legs, crystals shifting under his weight. His hand reaches towards his abdomen, and he feels the blood slowly seeping through his fingers, and can see droplets on the ground.
He feels dizzy.
He thinks he hears Erik say something, but it is all Charles can do to keep from totally collapsing into the sand. He must keep upright. Keep kneeling, hand pressed on his mangled stomach. He can’t look at it, if he looks he might faint, and if he faints he dies.
Die sooner, anyway.
Charles doesn't fall, but Moira does, chain so tight around her neck the skin has turned white. Her eyes have gone blank, and her body is still. Charles wants to scream again and feels the sound rising up in the back of his throat, but all that comes out of his mouth is blood and a quiet, desperate, “No, Moira--please--”
The world begins to spin. Charles presses his right hand into the sand, throwing his weight into it, leaving the left in a feeble attempt to slow the blood flowing from his body. His head hangs low and his arm begins to tremble before strong arms are oh so gently turning him over onto his back, and Charles is looking up into the face of Erik, but his vision is blurry from pain. His breath catches painfully and he presses harder on his wound with both hands.
Charles has never seen his friend look more lost than now. His blue eyes are wide, frightened and full of tears like a lost little boy. They don’t spill down his cheeks, though; they just collect in his eyes and stay there. “She did this,” Erik says, voice steady and cold despite what Charles knew he must be feeling.
Brave Moira. No, no, she didn’t, Charles wants to say, but it’s so hard. He bites his lips and forces the words out. “You,” he says softly, boring into Erik’s eyes. “You did this, Erik.” He tries to keep the hurt and pain out of his voice, but it’s impossible. Something is broken between them, now. Broken even more than his body is.
The scared look disappears from Erik’s eyes, replaced by one of pain with a hint of rage.
Rage and serenity, Charles thinks bitterly. So glad to know that worked out.
Erik clenches his jaw, then rests his hands atop Charles’. “Us turning on each other, it’s what they want,"” he says, moving a hand to prop up Charles; head. “We’re brothers, you and I.” The words are layered with guilt, passion, and sorrow. For the second time in his life, Erik's walls are down. Beautiful, Charles thinks as his muscles clench, seized by more racking pain. His breathing becomes labored and slow.
“We want the same thing,” Erik tells Charles, giving him a gentle shake.
Shaking my body isn't going to help me live any longer, Charles thinks dryly before slowly speaking. “I’m sorry, my friend,” he manages, voice laced with mixture of despair and agony, “but we do not.”
He can see the disillusionment creep into Erik’s eyes, he can feel Erik’s hand clutch his head tighter, and knows that there is no saving Erik Lehnsherr, not unless Charles lives. Which is impossible.
Another scream manages to claw its way out of Charles, and Erik begins to panic, because no matter what happens, Charles is his friend. The only one who believes in him. The serenity to his rage. His balancer. You are an emotional fool, Erik tells himself as he presses his hands over Charles’ to cover the wound. Walk away. Walk away like you have done so many times--
“It's not going to work,” Charles mumbles, voice weakening. “But I do appreciate the effort.”
Erik rips off his helmet and throws it into the sand beside him, and as he does, Charles notices Erik’s hands are shaking.
Charles hears Raven’s voice from far away. “What’s happening over there?”
“Leave us,” Erik snarls, full of panic and anger.
No, she's alright, she's quite alright to come over--she really should, actually. Sweet, funny, clever Raven. Let her come over. Let me see my sister.
But Charles cannot form the words.
Erik uses both hands to lift Charles’ head, causing Charles to moan in pain, grimacing. “You can't die now,” Erik pleads, desperate and a small child once more. “We were just beginning.”
No, we were just ending, Charles thinks sadly.
Erik’s breathing has begun to get quick and agitated, his eyes huge and terrified. He is at a loss for words, and doesn’t know where to put his hands or what to do--
Don’t give into your rage. Please. For me.
The thought penetrates into Erik’s mind, snaking around his walls and into the very crevices of his brain. Erik, too, cannot form any words, because rage is the only weapon he has. The only thing he was left with after Shaw.
Just as he is formulating a response, he feels Charles go limp.
Erik freezes.
“No,” he mutters frantically, cupping his hands around Charles’ face and staring into those empty eyes that were, just a minute ago, bluer than the sky but are now blank and dull. “No,” he repeats, shaking Charles’ body. “No,” he says, loudly enough to bring Raven and Hank to his side. Raven gasps as she sees what has happens, stumbles as she runs and falls onto Charles’ body. Erik is forced to moved as Raven begins to scream uncontrollably. “You killed him!” she shouts. “You killed him, you monster!” She lunges at Erik, animalistic, but Hank grabs her from behind and holds her still, but looks as if he wants to go after Erik as well.
Erik is lost.
He does not know what to do.
The only family he has left, and Erik killed him. You stupid little boy, it’s all your damn fault, just like it was before, just like it was--
He wants to go back to the body and somehow, somehow, breathe life into Charles, make him laugh and smile and frown and live again.
But he can’t.
So Erik runs. He runs to the red mutant--Azazel, he remembers vaguely, and grabs his arm. “Get me out of here,” he growls, gripping Azazel's arm tightly, “or I may kill you as well.”
They both vanish in a puff of smoke.
Rage and serenity.
Rage and serenity.
Rage and serenity.
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remember that time ward foreshadowed his own betrayal
Pictures of Brett Dalton
