Instinct

Erik’s breath stutters. Shaw strides calmly towards him, at ease, unhurried. Just like before. His grin is the same. His eyes tear through Erik’s skin and he is exposed. He is back there again.

When Shaw slides up beside him he cannot meet his eyes. Fingers ghost along his arm, light like spider’s legs. Erik flinches hard enough to dislodge them.

“All this time, Erik. All this time and I was so close.” His voice is barely a whisper but Erik could pinpoint it from the corner of a dark room. He is breathing faster. He can feel the blood thrumming through his veins, so strongly, so desperately he may burst.

“I knew I placed my bets right on you.” He laughs. Proud, gleeful. “Liquid form. Can you believe it?”

Erik silently clenches and unclenches his jaw.

“We never tried it. Never tried it straight into the bloodstream.” Shaw tilts his head and looks down appraisingly. “I was sure it would kill you and that was never my intention.”

His hand reaches down. “You reacted so badly when we first introduced it.” His hand lands on Erik’s knee. His left knee.

The pain, ripping through his leg. The numbness. The loss. Erik cannot stand it.

“Don’t.” His voice is not loud but there is enough venom there to bring another smile to Shaw’s face.

“What a wonderful happenstance. To change you, to improve you…” Shaw leans down, eyes sharp and alight, drinking in Erik’s defeat. “…I have to get to your heart, Erik.”

An insistent beep draws his attention. Emma nods at the newly arrived woman. She enters something into her phone and turns to the door expectantly.

Erik stares straight ahead. Shoulders curled forwards, blocking Shaw from his periphery. Shaw leans in closer.

“Of course, we are not alone this time.”

The elevator pings.

Alex is led into the room.

The first thing he sees is his father strapped to a chair in the middle of the room. He is alive. Alive and awake. He steps towards him but is brought up short by Logan’s grip on his shoulder. He fights against it as he meets his father’s eyes across the room. He looks wrecked.

“Dad!”

He looks back at Logan but Logan is not looking at him. His gaze is fixed on the man standing next to his dad. His grip on Alex’s shoulder tightens to a vice but he does not seem to notice. 

Logan is breathing raggedly behind him. His head snaps to glare at a woman further into the room. Alex is shocked to realize he knows her. Emma. Dad’s therapist. What kind of set up is this?

Logan comes to life. His words barely contained below a shout. “Shaw? Am I working for Shaw?”

Shaw. Alex renews his struggle against Logan’s grip. He has not heard everything from his Dad but he has heard enough. He has to do something. He can’t leave his dad alone with the man from his nightmares.

His movements are ignored as Logan glares at Emma, awaiting an answer.

“You work for me Logan.” Her lip twists. “And I work for him. So do your job.” She finishes coldly. “We are making history and you are a part of it.”

“And I never know it until it’s too late.” Logan growls under his breath.

His other hand grabs Alex’s arm and he drags him closer to Erik and Shaw, pulling him up beside one of the steel benches.

He tries to catch his father’s eye but he looks straight ahead. Shoulders lowered and eyes hollow. It is only the shallow movement of his chest that lets Alex know he is alive.

“Dad. Please look at me.” He begs.

Shaw spins around slowly. “Ah, this must be Alex.” His stare fixes on Alex as he takes measured steps towards him. His footfalls echo through the space of the room. Alex suddenly feels like prey.

“Your father is very special. So I have to wonder…” Shaw stops beside Alex, forcing him to turn his head away from his father to keep him in view. “...What kind of genes you share with him.” His lips thin out into a shallow grin and he strikes like a snake.

Alex sees nothing for a moment as his head is slammed down onto the bench. Tools scatter and fall to the floor with loud clangs. A cold hand keeps his cheek pinned there and another presses down onto his back. He forgets to breathe.

“No!” His father’s voice roars. “You don’t get to touch him.”

The bench is cold against his face and his skin is crawling as Shaw’s hand makes its way up along his spine.

He can hear the satisfaction in the man's voice as he speaks. Loud and mocking. “Ah, there you are Erik! I’ve missed you.”

One hand still presses into his spine and the other slides down to his face. Long fingers brush against his cheek but the grip is so strong he has nowhere to move.

His father’s voice cuts through again. Shaky but determined. “I’m right here, Shaw. You’ve waited long enough. So finish this.”

He feels breath close to his face and closes his eyes against it. “Another time then, Alex.” The hands disappear and he pushes himself up on shaky limbs. He tries to back away from the table but his back hits a body and there is nowhere to go. He glances quickly behind at Logan. The man looks uneasy but below that, he is angry.

“Moira.” Shaw summons, holding out a hand. She approaches him with a small case. He opens it gently and retrieves a syringe filled with a marbled silver liquid. “You are right Erik. It has been long enough. Let’s find out what my faith in you has earned.”

As Shaw approaches, Erik meets Alex’s eyes. He smiles sadly but cannot hold it for long. No. No! Alex lunges forwards. He does not get more than a foot before Logan’s arms are wrapping tightly around his torso, holding him back.

“No!” He fights but he cannot move. Cannot reach his father.

Shaw plunges the syringe straight into Erik’s heart.

The scream his father releases fills the entire room. Alex’s heart breaks. 

His chest is breaking open. On fire. Freezing. Burning. Crushed. His head is thrown back as he tries to drag in breath. One of the roof tiles is crooked. He has never noticed before.

The edges of his vision swim black and now everything is crooked.

His insides are clawing their way out, his bones no longer feel solid. His body is a battleground and both sides are losing. There is screaming. It does not sound like his voice. Reaching out he finds only the arms of the chair. There is something beyond his grasp. Something calling to him. His fingers reach out again, hands straining into nothing. His body convulses. If he can just reach…

Something shifts within. The screw feels weightless against his palm.

His chest is not caving anymore, each pump of blood inflates it anew. He feels alight all the way to the tips of his toes. On both feet. His hands grasp something now. Something beyond the air. He feels a pull.

Around him, the room sings.

Alex hangs limply as his father arches in the chair and screams himself raw. It is agony to watch. It must be more than agony to feel. His face is hot as tears run down it. Is he watching his father die?

His eyes are locked to Erik’s chest. It rises and falls, stuttering and heaving. His hands are reaching. Reaching for nothing. For a hand that he cannot offer. Erik's back slumps heavily against the chair and Alex waits desperately.

There! A breath. A steady breath. Alex tries to match his breaths to his father’s. To calm his racing heart. Another breath. Another.

A metallic rattle breaks his concentration and all eyes in the room are drawn to the bench beside Erik’s chair.

The tools are rising from their perches. Hovering an inch above the bench top. Hovering. On their own. Alex’s eyes trace back to Erik’s outstretched hand. It is straining towards the bench.

Shaw takes a step backwards, taking in the sight.

His face lights up.

“Interesting.”