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[It's been two weeks since Raven left, a week since the network glitch, and Erik has done a lot of thinking. He never expected to confront another version of himself, despite hearing about him plenty. He wouldn't call it enlightening, but interesting - yes. Very interesting. Between him, and another Raven, another Moira - he's been very thoughtful as of late.

The video comes on, and Erik looks directly into the camera, though it's clear he's not quite seeing it. His gaze is moving inward.]

I've been thinking about the other Barge.

[He's steadfastly refused to talk about it, for the most part. About the man he was there, about what he did. About the people he tried to save. His gaze grows more unfocused, and he can remember the light, the pain and the comfort of it. Pain has always been a part of this life: it is fitting that it was a part of the end of that one.

If that even was an end.]

I've died here. Just once. [He doesn't rub his chest, but the muscles in his arm twitch and flex as a phantom ache rises.] I don't know if I died there. I didn't care. [His gaze sharpens again, his mouth twisting into a rueful smile.] I was more concerned with saving you all.

[And destroying the Barge. That had been just as strong a need as removing everyone back to their homes. He can still remember how the Barge trembled under his power. He can't do that, here, despite his mutation functioning as normal. The Admiral is too powerful for that here.] I don't know if I managed it. I doubt it, to be honest. If the Admiral ever really died, I don't doubt that he'd just come back, like a phoenix from his own ashes. [It would be poetic, if it weren't a touch bitter.]

I do remember some of it. I remember the pain, and the way I welcomed it. I remember becoming more.

[Becoming powerful. Untouchable. Enduring. Becoming nothing. Erik looks away, thumbs over the pages of a book out of sight. He doesn't know where he's going, but he can't quite stop.] I was so angry. I wanted to crush the ship between my hands. [He lifts those hands, fingers curling inward, palms angled toward each other, before they clench into fists so hard they tremble. He has long been capable of such anger, but there...

They unclench slowly, drop back to the desk in front of him.]

And then I didn't. And then - then, I--

[He stops, looking away sharply, and without another word, kills the feed.]

[Spam for Charles]

[And then he accepted it. The anger, the pain, the loss, he had accepted it there, accepted that despite his instinct for rage, there were other, better things that needed doing.

Shoving his chair back almost hard enough to knock it over, Erik clenches his hands again, half afraid they're shaking. He's out of his room and shoving open Charles' door a moment later, and he has no idea what state he must look, but he can't imagine it being anything short of frazzled.]

I need to talk. [He needs to talk through this, now, before he tries to push it away again, before he tries to bury it. And he's afraid - afraid of this change, afraid of not changing, afraid of being here forever and accomplishing none of the things he's meant to. His chest is tight.] I need to talk now.

[Private to Alex]

I need to talk to you.

[And he knows they have a terrible history of it, knows one of them always takes something wrong, and he should do this in person, he knows, but maybe if he gets it all out now they won't wind up with shoes between their teeth or the desire to shove fists in their place.

He thought, at some point, that this would be easy if he ever managed to graduate. That he would know what to say, that the words would just be there because graduation must make this easier. It doesn't, of course. It almost makes this harder, because his chest and throat still feel tight.]

I know I've apologized. And I know you've forgiven me, though you had every reason not to. But I still owe you an apology, because I've never been able to say what's right. I don't know what's right now, but I know I need to apologize. For Cuba. For leaving you and Sean and Hank alone when you needed someone. For all of it.

[His throat is too tight, and he has to pause to clear it.]

I'm sorry. [For not being there. For not being the person he is now.]

[Private to Anya]

[Anya is difficult. Anya is so much more difficult. Because he loves her as if he'd raised her himself, this is, he thinks, the hardest goodbye he will have to make. Part of him considers staying, almost entirely for her. But that is selfish. And maybe leaving is selfish, but it's to do so much more. So he grabs his communicator and records, though he does occasionally glance off screen, at the wall he shares with her.]

Anya.

[He wonders if his tone says everything, if it says anything at all. Everything sounds strange to him just now.] I graduated. [Finally. She was right; it hadn't been far off at all.]

And I'm going to be leaving. But I want to talk to you first. [Need. The word he meant to use was need.]

[Private to Jean]

[He's going to run out of steam at this rate. He's not shocked anymore, though the surprise lingers. When he contacts Jean, he's so much closer to feeling at peace with more than he ever thought possible. It's calming, this quiet acceptance, and it's that he holds onto when he talks to her.]

You don't need someone to stop you.

[He still remembers that conversation, remembers the D'Bari, remembers the six billion people and the fire in her hair. He couldn't forget it if he tried.]

You're stronger than you give yourself credit for. [He should tell her why he's saying this, he knows, but the why is less important than the what.]

[Private to Rogue]

[He's pondered this for a little while, but feelings are exhausting. By the time he sends this message, all he has left is bluntness. He has a feeling she'll understand.]

I've graduated.

I hope you'll understand that I'm not staying.

[Private to Kelsier]

Your deal. [He's seen enough panicked wardens on board to know that Kelsier's Item must no longer be responding to him. No reason to beat around the bush.] Was it for your wife?

[Private to David]

I really hated you, when we first met. [There's a little smile in the corner of his mouth, tired but genuine.] I'm glad I didn't try to dissemble you.

[It's a poor joke, but he's really good at those.]

I'm going home. If you do leave - I suppose I should say when - you have a place with us. If you want it.

[Public]

[A few hours after his initial post, Erik comes back on the network. He's calm again, sharp. There's even a little smile in the corner of his mouth. A real, very satisfied one, with no trace of bitterness. Not now.]

I'll be leaving tomorrow.

[He reaches off screen, and pulls one smiley faced cookie into view, courtesy of the Admiral. Graduation stopped being out of reach months ago, but he never quite accepted that it was this close. He breaks off a piece of the cookie and pops it into his mouth.]

Look after yourselves.

[Alles ist Gut. He can think it without cringing, now.]

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[Ben and Erik have never spoken. The X5 is aware of the mutant, on several levels, and they have interacted somehow without ever actually having a conversation.

They have run parallel and navigated the crossroads of their existence on the Barge without ever running afoul of one another until that other ship. It would be enough to keep Ben away now, too, but Lua left recently, and now Erik.

They are important to Anya. Anya is important to him. And so:]

Best of luck, sir.

[He returns the smile when she turns off her communicator, but in the interim, he just sits. There isn't much he's worried about bringing back with him - the glitter from Raven, the photo album from Charles. Assorted small gifts. He's never been materialistic, no matter how fine he likes his suits, clothes, shoes. In the end, they are things you can lose. There are only a few things he doesn't want to lose again.

Her knock pull shim out of the reverie, and he's quick to shake it free and go to open the door, stepping aside for her to enter.]

Very fast.

[Hearing it - hearing someone say it out loud - always embarrasses him, even though he knows it's true. He has grown. Before he got here, but this place, with all its faults, has done a remarkable amount of good for him. It gave him hope, not just for Darwin but for Erik, too. It didn't make his anger go away, but it took away the sense of futility that had dogged his steps since Cuba. Things can change. They don't always, but they can. Nothing is written in stone.]

[Not even the good things.]

[He feels physically pushed against at the strength of Erik's feeling, as if someone is pressing their palm against the center of his chest. As he always does, he pushes back, straightening up slightly and leaning forward. Yes. He knows.]

Guess so.

[A watery smile.] Starting to guess so.

[He doesn't respond immediately. Things blur, now, between here and there. He thought, on that ship, that he'd essentially been Charles, but he knows that isn't true now. He was himself, a better self, a self he could be. Not a forgiving man, but an accepting one.

There is a spike of anger when Ben speaks, and he can still see the younger man digging into Charles' spine, teeth bared, attention focused. But he can see Anya, too, making him promise not to hurt the boy she likes. So before he answers, he makes this private.]

You care for her.

[Erik's brow crinkles in confusion, and he turns to see what's caught Charles' attention. Part of him knows, already, what he'll find. It's his brain that won't accept it, that says it can't possibly be now, after all this time. But they're there, those stupid cookies, and Erik's brow smoothes slowly.

It doesn't feel like a victory, nothing to shout I did it to the rooftops over. It feels like a weight removed. Like he should be saying, I endured it. I understand. I see.

He swallows hard and turns back to Charles, and it's only a moment before he matches that laugh, shaking his head. He's bewildered. He's relieved.

They can go home.]

[Ben is not surprised by the switch; he doesn't reach to undo it. He also does not begrudge Erik the overlap of emotions he expects has prompted it. There's a reason he only spoke with Charles after the fact, despite having asked after Erik.

He remains neutral. Calm. He won't make excuses for that other Ben, not when he knows what he knows, but neither will he accept blame that isn't his to bear. His reply is prompt, succinct, and firm. He knows exactly who he's talking about.]

I do, sir. Very much. Possibly more than any other single individual present on this Barge.

[They are questions he has to answer himself; at least he's asking them. Erik nods slowly, because he wants to help David, but he doesn't know how. He's not a warden. He's just free.]

Better to defy them.

[Defy them, without defying yourself.]

Ya only gave me a minute. [Now she's teasing him. She steps inside and waits until he shuts the door. ]

How's it feel?

[Erik matches the smile. He doesn't, can't comment on the brightness of Alex's eyes, because he can feel the same in his own. They aren't emotional men, he and Alex, but when it comes it's enough to burst dams.

For once, Alex pushing back doesn't make him prickle. It makes him proud.]

As much as I never want to see this ship again, [and he doesn't, for so many reasons,] I'm glad we were here.

[He's glad he saw Alex grow. And he's glad Alex was here to see this. To see him change.]

Satisfying.

[It's not a word he thought he'd associate with this, but it's the only end he could reach. And though an hour ago it was overwhelming, he's crested the hill. It's settled on him.

He smiles.]

Very, very satisfying.

Good.

[It's difficult to say, but he forces the word out, forces it to sound almost normal. Ben isn't who he would have chosen for Anya - but he knows more than ever that it isn't his place to choose for anyone. She came to her own realizations just as he did, and Ben was one of them.

All he can do, now, is make sure he doesn't need to worry about them.

(He'll always worry about her.)]

Because she cares for you too, and if you manage to hurt her [you, his voice says, not some other version of him, but the Ben she loves] then I will come back.

[He has a crooked smile on as he speaks, because it's far from a real threat. Not entirely empty, he cares too much for that - but the point is that he knows. That she cares. That he does.]

[Charles laughs again, and this time it sounds almost borderline hysterical. Something feels like it's shattered inside him, but it's good, he feels free, and he can't remember the last time he felt anything close to this. He wants to shout that Erik did it, he wants to laugh, he wants to sit down on the floor and sob because they're free, they did what so many other people had told them they were never going to be able to do themselves, and he is so, so relieved.

He's closing the distance between them and pulling Erik into a hug practically before he's processed what he's doing, wrapping his arms around his friend and holding on tightly. The wetness in his eyes spills over a little, and his throat's still constricted, breathing shaky, but he's probably shining all that joy/relief/love/triumph/pride like a beacon, so there's not really a question as to how he feels about this.

He is so, so unbelievably proud of him, and that's probably what shines through brightest alongside the relief. This is what he'd meant when they'd stood outside the mansion talking about moving the satellite dish, and to know he'd really found that balance, that peace after everything he'd been through...]

I never doubted you. You are such an incredible person, Erik.

Or realize they weren't worth our time in the first place.

[He isn't ever going to be a revolutionary. He can't: it just isn't something his programming would really allow, and he's comfortable with that. He's never been interested in intentionally changing himself to better suit the needs of others.

But he has changed.]

I believe I wasted most of my time before coming to the Barge.

[The smile dazzles her, because it's so very rare to see. ]

Gawd, Erik, it's nice ta see ya smile. Really smile, without havin' ta work up ta it.

[Slevin doesn't have any family. He hasn't for two decades; he doesn't have friends. He has no other breach or port memories, just Oxford. Just summers stretched out lazy on the roof of their houseboat, fights in the mud by the riverbank, speculating on what their daemons would settle on being.

Lizards and itching powder and Gobblers and councils and marketplaces all over the Northern hemisphere and more laughter than Slevin has had in his entire life. More safety. More love.

It wasn't Erik. But it was. He gets it, without having to say anything. He wouldn't try anyway.]

Are you sure? You never know when you might need a good distraction.

Or a comeback that's very difficult to argue with.

[He accepts the hug without question, arms winding tight around Charles' back. This could have taken so much longer, and maybe it could have happened sooner, but he doesn't know how. Charles is right: no matter how much cajoling or prompting or coaching he endured, this had to be his own.

Closing his eyes for a long, long moment, Erik just lets his emotions build off Charles'. It's freedom - but it's not like the freedom he and Magda gained from the camps. There is less terror in this, less fear of everything surrounding them. Less fear in general.

There is plenty still to be afraid of, but it isn't the way it was.]

You should have. I couldn't have done this alone.

[He'd been so angry, when he'd first realized Charles was here, so Angry at everything. He can't imagine having endured without him.]

[Erik has to smile at that, a touch rueful, because isn't that the truth? Shaw should not have been worth it. Erik gave him too much meaning him by hunting him for so long.]

I think we all managed to do that. Maybe it's part of why we're here.

[Telepathy has it's uses, Erik won't knock that. But it's nice, realizing you can get by on simple human - human - understanding.]

The itching powder wasn't difficult to argue with. Being thrown into the river's difficult to argue with.

Lucky there aren't any large bodies of water around.

Trust me, there was plenty working up to it today.

[Just not in the usual way.]

I couldn't. [It's almost rueful, somewhere under the million other emotions. He still feels like he might just start crying in earnest.]

Even when I wanted to, I couldn't. You've never not deserved this. [Their first conversation had gone badly, their first port had gone badly, their first discussions about where to move forward and who was right and whether or not being here would do anyone any good had been near catastrophes, but it had still infuriated him to hear people writing Erik off as some sort of monster, or movie villain, and Erik had still come to his rescue when he'd woken up unable to breathe without an arc reactor stabilizing his heart.

And then there had been the Vanquish and the Overlook and the months it had taken him to feel anywhere close to normal after all that, Toshiko's breakdown, that other Barge, the time he'd been stabbed largely by accident and left to bleed out on the floor of some random cabin, plus the thousand other things they'd been through in the last two years.

Erik had always been there when he needed him to be. Erik had protected the kids, and the Barge, and done the right thing over and over and over again. Thank God this finally happened, because if he'd left before he'd reached this point, Charles is pretty sure he would have snapped.]

That, and orchestrating the end of all life on Earth probably had something to do with it.

[Probably.

But.]

I wouldn't do it again.

[And, amazingly, he actually means it. As frustrating as most people are, they don't deserve to die just because they're assholes.]

Wow steal a gal's thunder, why dontcha? [She's only joking. Erik has his way, and it's part of his charm. ]

So you're headin' out tomorrow.

[She's been left by a lot of people. It's one of the costs of living here, one she is learning gradually to pay with more grace. She knew he'd go, when it happened, and she knew she'd miss him. But it strikes her all of a sudden how much, sitting in the living room where another him raised another her, and it feels like someone cored a hole right into her chest.

She meant it, with the stupid christmas mug, is the thing. She collects father figures like some people collect butterflies, but he's her favorite. He's her dad. She shoves her communicator under the couch cushions and cries for a few minutes, shoulders shaking, and she feels light, too, almost as much as she did after her own graduation. She feels so unbearably proud, she feels a little backwardly as though she is his parent for the moment, losing him to all the great things he's grown enough to go fight for in the wider world.

She wipes her tears away as she rises, dismissive and perfunctory; when she turns her attention to moving forward, they stop as quickly as they began. She climbs to her room, undoes the fiberglass security locks and shifts the plain cinderblock weights to get into the toolbox where she keeps the few metal items she can't do without when she isn't using them. One of those things - one of very few with no utilitarian purpose - is a vintage brass wings pin, one more bit of Bargewell ephemera that appeared along with the rest of her warden's cabin. She tucks it in the breast pocket of her jacket, over her heart, and then goes next door to knock.]

[The panicky swell of emotions is fading, but the adrenaline is still circulating, making it difficult to push his body into the serenity his mind has been creeping into for months. For a long, long moment, he just stands with Charles, arms wrapped tight. He probably couldn't coax them loose in those earliest moments.

Eventually, he does lift his head and shift, settling one hand on Charles' shoulder instead. He's still verklempt, throat thick, and he doesn't bother to hide the way he has to cough in order to speak.]

Maybe you're right.

[He has deserved this. Deserved - maybe not all of it, not the worst the Barge has offered, but even that - even that has led him here. It showed him that he could forgive, and that he doesn't have to. That some people deserve it, and some do not. That not all humans are monsters, not all monsters are lost, not all who are lost cannot be found. Because he's here, freedom in his hands, and none of it would have been possible if things had been any different.

He closest his eyes a moment, exhaling slowly. Rise up and walk, for none of your bones is broken. He did say he'd walk out of here.]

Probably.

[That had all been the moment, for Erik. Realizing that he wouldn't do it the same as he'd done. He wonders if that will be the same for David.]

What would you do?

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