Erik is optimistic if he believes he's going to pull an omega level telepath out of a drug induced trip down memory lane. In theory it shouldn't be possible, if Erik had tried to tell Charles he would do such a thing Charles would have fought him vehemently until Erik promised no to even try.

But Erik always has been a gloriously stubborn bastard hasn't he?

In the end they both are working towards a similar goal. Charles doesn't want to be showing Erik this, any of this. He doesn't want to be hurting his lover with the wild emotions, with the darkness in his own heart and on his own soul. He wants out and Erik, calling to him along the beloved presence of the bond combined with his own firm will begin to over come the effects of Hank's drugs.

The memories dissolve into twisting shadows filled with whispered words that give a sense of dread but otherwise do not form into the vivid pictures of before. Charles stands at the center as the shadows leap and jump around him, the pass of one specter to the next, his form changes from the child to adult.

Flinging out one hand, a mirror to the stance Erik adopts when he's bending metal to his will, Charles begins to draw the shadows tighter into himself. He's dressed in loose, linen clothing, cream on cream, colors he never wears, hell the fabric is loose and twists around his limbs along with the shadows, his eyes nearly preternaturally blue here in the landscape of his own mind.

Erik... his mental voice is strong, stronger than it has been since he was shot. Go. You need to go while you can, follow the bond back to yourself.

Charles looks to the side, flashing his other hand outwards until a pathway, lit softly by a sense of warmth, translated to a gentle amber glow, leading away from Charles and the shadows.

I can hold this now but I can't come with you, not yet. Please, my love ... go, I implore you.