Part of him still kept doubting it until Charles opened his mouth, like he was expecting it to be some kind of trick. Maybe it was. Maybe he wanted it to be. The alternative wasâŚinsulting.
âAnd itâs the height of manners to let people think youâre dead, is it?â To the world, it was Erik who made the questionable choices. It was Erik who was vilified and thrown to the metaphorical wolves. Not that he cared. Public perception had never mattered to him. But there were moments - exactly like that one - where it made him bristle just a little.
He kept a bit of distance between them - a few long steps. âI watched you die, Charles. Yet here you are. How?â He looked almost exactly as he had the day theyâd met all those years ago in Israel. Erik considered saying more. Something like I deserve an answer, but maybe he didnât. He hadnât been able to stop what happened.
Charlesâ lips pursed at the response. He knew that picking up scattered thoughts was intrusive, but that never exactly stopped him before. He could tell Erik wanted to continue pushing, wanted to question him further. He wasnât sure what more the other had said, he didnât press that far, but he appreciated that Erik didnât speak up past his last question.
âYou neednât worry. Youâll be back to thinking Iâm dead soon enough,â Charles found himself assuring the other. He wasnât going to step into the shadow of his former life. He wasnât ready to get back into the swing of that.Â
His hand lifted as he brought his fingers to his temple almost threateningly. âIâm sorry, old friend.â

















