bakerstreet | you can't go home meme

you can't go home meme

You Can't Go Home Meme

❝holding on and letting go❞

For some reason or another, your character is displaced from their home — be it in the sense of homeland, home planet, home universe, or literal house — and unable to return. How they and the people around them handle that is left up to you.

Prompts
001. Exiled For one reason or another it's been decided your character is to be exiled. Pushed out of their home by force for some criminal act.
002. Run Away You have to run away. Your troubles are too great, or maybe you consider yourself a great danger. Either way, you can't stay here.
003. Destroyed the doomed hometown, up in ashes, razed to the ground. No matter how much you wish and pray, things will never be the same
004. For your own good some event has occurred, it's made living wherever you grew up impossible. You have to leave. it's the only option.
005. Adventure Out on a grand adventure, except you have a sense that you may never come back to your humble abode again.
006. Welcome Back you made it home, but things are strange. Everything is alien and strange-- and really you've realized you have returned changed. This place cannot be your home ever again
007. wildcard anyway you want it

emotions
001. Anger Bitterness and anger are the only things you can feel. How dare this happen! This was your home. That was where you belonged.
002. Depression gloomy darkness and a dim grayness.
003. Elation the chance of a lifetime, complete happiness about the possibilities! Bring on the world, you're read
004. Anxiety A brimming sense of dread, are you ready for this step? Is there any chance to reverse it?
005. Free This was your chance, for once in your life you're on your own. But is this new found freedom what you want?
006. Resignation this is what had to happen, and you will accept the consequences for what they are
007. wildcard that's the way you need it

» POST with your character
» TAG others, use RNG if you need to, or just make up your own scenario if you want!
» HAVE FUN.

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[ He thinks, for a long moment, he might be dying.

There's an easy sort of panic about it now; he's been so close to death so many times that it doesn't feel as frightening as it did when he was still a child, when he thought the tests, the machines, the soldiers and Shaw (Schmidt) would be the end of him. He's so used to the fear of death that the reality of it doesn't seem as terrifying, as though it's something he can just shrug and accept with his stride, as though he'll wake up in another realm and everything will be alright.

Of course, nothing is alright.

Erik is bleeding, heavily, a plastic bullet in one shoulder and glass lodged in parts throughout his body, his leg weak with his limp and his entire system feeling as though it's nearly shutting down. He doesn't want to die, not anymore, that's what is so strange about the entire experience. When he was younger he would have accepted death with grace, to be able to return to Mama and be happy with her, as though everything was truly alright. Now, though, he had a mission, a cause, and he couldn't simply abandon that because it hurt.

That is how he found himself collapsing at the door of Xavier Institute. He'd opened the gates with a weak twitch of his fingers, barely able to maintain the energy to push them open. Each step had felt like a bolt of lightning crashing through his system and every inch was like a mile but, in the end, he had made it, collapsing into the concrete in front of the door and shifting, almost too easily, to lie on his back and wheeze through his pain.

Would he be welcome here, after everything? Would Charles take one look at him and dismiss him, watch him suffer and then urge him to leave, to find shelter elsewhere? Or would he bring him in and tend to his wounds as Erik desperately hoped he would? Reaching out, he pushes with his mind and his power, jerking the metal knocked hard against the wood of the door even as his thoughts scream at Charles.

Help me. ]

[charles, though he does still communicate at times with erik after washington, does not keep his mind so open as to actively pry. his promise of never entering the other man's head again had fallen somewhere by the wayside months before, and he had found neither of them truly wanted anything of that sort. they had a sort of silent understanding that when, if, they spoke in whatever fashion they had chosen to use for communication that their respective battles remain unspoken.

the school is silent, students asleep as a new semester has begun to wear on each of them. not just schooling, but the development of their unique gifts. he is in his study, where he retreats at night, and works on notes for the next day's lectures in preparation. there are still too many students and too few teachers, but they manage.

charles has found his hope again.

it is late when he senses the first lingering wisps of pain and fogginess, but dispels it as muscle spasms he still endures or his need for rest after a long day. it isn't until he hears the metal knocker on the door echo loudly through the halls that he finds himself dropping the book in his hands. his heart pounds in confusion as to who would come here at such a late hour but then there's a sudden desperate intrusion, a call to help in his own mind that it nearly has him gasping out in shock.

Erik?!

thankfully, his study is on the ground floor, and it takes him little to no time, motorized chair or not, to get to the door and open it. to see erik sprawled on his back against the steps wheezing in pain sent shock and worry through him. he maneuvered the chair as close to the edge of the steps as he dared, and leaned down, attempting to find enough purchase and leverage to lift the other man up as much as he dares.

he doesn't know the extent of the damage, but as he looks down on his old friend, there is nothing short of horror there. fear of losing him. his first instinct is to call out with his mind for hank, and he does, but it is also a sign of his desperation that he does out loud as well, looking back towards the darkened opening of the door.]

Hank?! Hank, I need you! [he looks back down to the other man bleeding in the desperate grasp of his arms.] Erik, hold on. It's going to be all right.

[he doesn't ask after how. he doesn't berate him. there is nothing but worry that paints his features.]

[ The relief he feels when he senses the metal of Charles' chair moving closer, the echo of the metallic wheels a comforting whisper in his mind, is something he can almost taste. He had been so afraid, for a long moment, that Charles would realise it was him and just... Ignore him, but he remembers, now, that Charles was never like that, was always a far better man than anyone would have given him credit for. He would never turn away a man in need, no matter what history they had with one another.

He's sure there's some kind of metaphor for the fact that light literally gleams around his friend when the door opens and Erik almost misses the gasp and his forward movement because he is so enchanted by it. It's been so long since he saw Charles, so long since he opened his mind like this - because he has no strength left to close himself off, to summon his helm and keep himself safe. All he wants is someone to take care of him, to stop him from falling into darkness, and Charles is here.

It's a sign of how gone he is that he doesn't realise that Charles is reaching to help him sit up until he's halfway there; only then does he focus his body and allow himself to shift, wincing through the tug on his wounds and the feeling that he might end up falling apart if he isn't careful. Leaning against the chair, not wanting to put too much weight on Charles, Erik breathes out sharply and bites back his wince, not wanting to show too much weakness even now. He might be half-dead but he doesn't want Charles to see it even if he is desperate for aid. He's too proud for that, always has been.

His hand lifts, fingers grasping at Charles and squeezing, throat tight and his fingers sticky with his own blood. He doesn't know what to say - there's so much that wants to come tumbling out. Thanks, casual jokes, laughter, all of it a jumbled mess in his already hazed and dozy mind. At least he has his friend here, something to focus on, something real and solid to wrap his hands around.

When he looks up, finally, it's with lidded eyes and a rather dark curl of his mouth. ] I'm sorry this is so out of the blue, my friend. I would have sent a postcard if I had known.

[charles fingers tighten and curl in the fabric of his clothes, and one hand moves up to try and staunch the flow of blood sluggishly oozing out of erik's shoulder with persistence. it slips through his fingers too easily, and he has to swallow back panic.

he can hear murmurs of voices and minds, his shout having woken most of the school, but then hank is barreling down the stairs, attuned to charles' need for him after so long with only the two of them. his question of charles what is it is swallowed by silence as he sees who the telepath is holding in his arms, looking up at him with desperation clear.

it's only when erik finally speaks to aloud without the sluggish daze of a wounded body affecting his mind so heavily, that he looks back down. the laugh he gives holds no real mirth, and it may as well be a half-sob.]

Well, I've been waiting on one for the game we've been playing, but now I see how you spend your time.

[as if charles didn't honestly already know. hank kneels down next to both of them, and some of the older students do their best to get the younger ones back in their rooms so as not to be a burden.

once hank's sure they won't do more damage, as far as he can tell, he nods and moves to hook his arms around erik's middle so he can hoist him over a shoulder into a fireman carry. he's no doctor or surgeon, but he does have enough knowledge to get him by, so he'll do what he's able.

it's only then that charles let's his grip go slack on the other man, but immediately goes to the controls of the chair so that he can follow on their heels.]

[ He barely notices when Charles speaks, his mind too hazed with a mix of blood and pain, but he can feel the rush of relief run through his body. That, more than anything else, is enough to draw his focus away from the pain and let him look up again, eyes flickering over Charles' face as he tries to hide his desperation.

There are voices, children behind Charles, awoken by his shouts, and he knows what they're all thinking - he doesn't have to be a telepath for that. He knows that they're whispering about the infamous Magneto at their door, broken and bloody and grabbing onto their dear Professor, the demon mutant himself come to darken their doorstep. Oh, if only they knew the things he had done for them...

He feels lost, untethered, when he loses the grip of his friend's hand and his fingers twitch to try and reach out and take them again; but he's over Hank now, being carried and taken somewhere (his lab?) to be taken care of. He's safe, he's alive, he isn't going to die. He'll live.

The whirr of Charles' chair is a comfort as they move through the house; he's not sure where they're going, it's been so long since he was here, but soon enough he's placed on a table of some kind and Hank starts, tugging off his shirt and moving to prod at things. He can feel the hesitation and, for a moment, Erik wonders if it's nerves or a secret desire for him to die and leave them all in peace.

He fades out after that, his body shutting down and the adrenaline wearing off once he realises that, now, he's safe, he's taken care of and he won't be going anywhere. He doesn't know what else to do other than give in to the whispering blackness and let himself rest for the first time in eons.

When he wakes up again the room is silent, the only sound the ticking of a clock somewhere nearby, and Erik feels like he might explode from the inside out. His mouth is dry and his head aches more than he could possibly have imagined it would, but he feels a little stronger, feels the metal under his fingertips before he sits up, slowly, and forces himself to look around. ]

Charles?

[hank had argued against charles staying with erik. said that he had other things to attend to. that the other man would be fine now that hank was able to patch him up. he passed on his classes to another teacher for the day, and stayed by erik's side.

he'd actually fallen asleep in his chair, possibly the worst he'd pay for it later, but he was loathe to leave the other man. he was sitting next to the table, asleep, head ducked and chin against his chest.

he stirs as erik's wakes, but not fully. he hums softly, mind reaching out for the other man's.]

[ He relaxes when he feels the pressure against his mind, leaning back and letting himself fall into the softness of the pillows around him. Charles is here and he hasn't been forced out and taken to some mundane human hospital, a place with too many people and too many questions. Charles has taken care of him and that's more than he deserves.

He reaches out with his own mind, fingers twitching a little and body urging him to reach out and find Charles, to draw him ever closer and bask in the closeness, the touch of another person, the one person he could trust to take care of him. ]

You're still here.

[charles would never turn him away. never. he feels the brush of erik's waking mind more, and he huffs softly as he hears him speak aloud. he finally manages to raise his head, sleep making him slow and sluggish.]

Where else would I be? [he abortively tries to readjust himself in the chair.] How do you feel?

[more comes to him as he wakes fully, of course, and he finds himself moving toward the nightstand, pouring a glass of water from the pitcher he'd brought up earlier. he moves closer to the bed and offers it to him.]

[ He shifts, leaning up as best he could with the thumping headache and reaches to take the glass, downing it in one long drink. It soothes his throat enough that he feels a little more comfortable with speaking, shifting on the bed and trying not to antagonise the pull of his wounds. Breathing out, he looks over at Charles. ]

I feel like someone shot me half a dozen times and then knocked me out.

[ It's said dryly, with almost too much self-deprecation. Still, he closes his eyes and sighs. ]

I had expected you to leave me to Hank.

[the laugh he gives is abortive and holds no real mirth. he lays his hand on erik's knee as he downs the water.]

Well, if what Hank told me is anything to go by, you're not far off from the truth, my friend.

[his hand still rests on his knee, and curls gently in the fabric of his trousers.]

That isn't my way.

[ The touch is a little startling, but he accepts it with as much grace as he can muster, staring at the fingers before he relaxes. It's not worth the fight nor the upset. ]

I don't remember much, truthfully, old friend. Just a lot of pain and not knowing where else to go.

[ He pauses, then, hand shaking around the glass, fingers brushing against the cool left over from the water. ]

Thank you.

[he senses mild upset, though he is uncertain of where it comes from. hesitantly, charles moves his hand, setting it back in his own lap.]

We came very close to losing you. [a gentle smile, though worry still flits in his mind.] Please, rest here as long as you like. If you're hungry, I can get someone to fetch something from the kitchen.

[a soft laugh.]

You've nothing to thank me for. You're always welcome here.

You wouldn't have lost me. I'm stronger than that.

[ He's not so sure. He could have died, he knows that, can feel it in the way the iron in his blood pulses a little. He breathes out, shifting to try and sit up, to push his body further and climb out of the bed. It instantly punishes him for it and he groans, leaning back and wheezing. ]

I can't stay here, I'm a danger.

[ His hands squeeze around the blanket. ]

I will leave tomorrow. I'll be fine then.

[he's about to argue. tell him to lie back down and rest, but then it seems his own body is informing him that rest is the better idea.]

You're no danger than anyone else I have at this school, Erik. You'll stay until you are well again.

[ He winces, expression souring into a glare. ]

Tomorrow.

[his own eyes narrow on erik in turn.]

Until you are well. Which is not yet now, so please, please rest.

It will be tomorrow. You'll see.

[ He lies back, expression tensing as he tries to breathe. ]

Very well. [a beat and a soft sigh, mouth pursing in worry as erik struggles to breathe past his wounds.]

Can I get you anything?

No. I- I'm fine. You've done more than enough already, Charles.

[ He presses curious fingers against his wounds and winces, closing his eyes.

Fantastic. This would take at least a week. ]

[he reaches out a gentle hand, placing it over erik's as he prods at his wounds.]

If you're so certain to leave us so quickly come tomorrow, I would suggest not aggravating your wounds, my friend.

I'm seeing how deep they are. I can't feel the iron in my blood properly, not when I'm like this.

[ He looks down, eyes flickering over their joined hands. ]

Ah. [soft. he brushes a thumb over the back of his hand, absently.]

It will return. We must give it time.

I know. I've experienced it before.

[ This isn't the first time he's been hurt; won't be the last, either, he's sure. ]

A few days at most.

[he merely nods at that, not prying.]

You'll let me know if you need anything?

... What could I need?

[ Other than Charles, right here, forever. But he dared not say it aloud. ]

this is like a mixture of everything omg

;alsdkjfa;sdlk jgod i'm gonna die

oops c:

ffffff

im the best rly

uh huh sure

love me love me

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