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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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[Since he touched her first, she takes it as an invitation and slides her arms around his shoulders, just this side of casual.]

Ah won't say that Ah'd wish ya'd stay. That wouldn't be fair. But Ah do wish we'd had a little more time.

[She's just being honest. There's not guilting behind her words. She won't ask him to stay, but she's sorry to see him go.]

[Charles helps himself to one too and gives Erik a Look that's probably best described as teasing, maybe a little disbelieving. As if there was any ever question of him abandoning Erik here, as if Charles would have fared any better if he'd been here without his friend.

Erik doesn't owe him anything. He doesn't regret any of it.]

For the record, I still think we should be toasting you. [He isn't kidding. Erik is the most incredible person he's ever met, and while he doesn't really believe in destiny, it's still hard not to wonder if they'd meant to find each other, if they'd meant to come to this place and go through all of this together so that they could help people, really help them.

A thought occurs to him suddenly and he grins again.]

Maybe we should have been planning a curriculum instead of writing a book.

[He knows how this is supposed to play out. I've been at the mercy of men just following orders. Sweat covers the back of his neck, creeps at his brow. His arm is outstretched above him, strong but tiring, and every single missile has turned, ready to slam back into the ships. He still feels the anger. The rage that they would turn on his kind, after they averted nuclear war. After they saved their sorry selves.

Never again, he's supposed to say. He's supposed to feel his forearm throb at his side. He's supposed to remember rain and mud and barking dogs, the smell of chocolate and blood and a metal coin magnetized to his palm.

Instead, he remembers a ship. A daughter and a son. A friend. A brother.

Slowly, he reaches up and pulls the helmet from his head. His hair sticks up here and there, but he doesn't notice it. He does toss the helmet aside with some disgust. That isn't his. Not anymore.

For a moment, he glances at Charles, face still hard, still pulled into angry lines - and as he curls his fingers in one by one, the missiles begin to explode mid air, and he smiles just as slowly.]

I know.

[I remember. He turns his attention upward again, and the rest of the missiles burst together as one, shrapnel falling harmlessly into the ocean. He drops his arm again and doesn't sway. This is not the moment Erik expected to be sent back to, this isn't the second chance he expected to have, but it's one he'll take with both hands. He lets out a laugh and feels a touch insane for it, but their stores are empty on those ships. They fired everything, and it wasn't enough. No one else needs to die tonight.]

[There is a brief, bashful look. Erik has never been good with accolades, and for good reason, but he has gotten better, here. It still feels strange, but he is proud. And he is grateful for Charles' pride. All the same, he's plenty happy to move on from the subject.]

What, don't you think children will want to learn the complexities of genetics?

[He thinks, can't be certain, that he knows her well enough now to be fairly sure that she's only stating a fact. It's enough, and he nods, somber with the honesty.]

You're not the only one.

[More time with her is exactly what he wished he had, but he knows better than most that you can't have everything.]

With all due respect, [And he uses the phrase a little ironically, if only because Erik has never asked him to treat him like a superior and he's the only person David has felt deserves that kind of respect.] I don't think that's true.

[Very few others had been able to understand, had been willing to listen. Erik had, even though he'd had no reason to, had every reason to dismiss David and want nothing to do with him.

He knows he couldn't have done it without him.]

[Erik smiles, lowers his head and lets it slip away. He should have been better prepared for this, maybe, should have steadied himself for respect and pride and congratulations. He didn't, and it reaches deep. He nods.]

Then I'm happy I helped. [And he is. Because he never would have envisioned he would, in the beginning.]

[No, you can't. But sometimes you could cheat a little.]

Well, since we're on the same page, how d'ya feel about readin' ahead then?

[A silly metaphor but who cares? If they were going to have gentle regrets, at least one thing didn't have to be on the list.]

[His smile turns briefly surprised, but he lifts his free hand to brush hair away from her face and lean in.]

Sometimes I skip right to the end.

[He kisses her gently; Erik has a life of regrets, and he knows he will add to them over the next several decades. This doesn't need to be one of them.]

[His heart is in his throat when Erik reaches for the helmet - the script is changing, he doesn't know what's going to happen next, and although all he wants to do is to dive into his friend's mind to see, to really know if he remembers, he doesn't. He keeps his distance, meeting that stare with wide, more than slightly terrified eyes, hoping, hoping-

And then Erik's destroying the missiles, keeping them a safe distance from the navies - I know, I remember - and Charles barks out a relieved, almost wounded laugh when he realizes it.

Erik remembers. They're home. They got their second chance. Erik remembers.]

Oh thank God.

[It's quiet, more like a breath than anything else, but he's already reaching out telepathically to Erik, and some of that overwhelmed relief is definitely filtering over.

He laughs again, not sure if he wants to fall to his knees in the sand from exhaustion and relief and just keep laughing, or to run to Erik. Not to tackle him and try to rip the helmet off so he could stop him, but to hug him again, tell him how proud he is, revel in the fact that they're back, he did it.

But he can still fear the receding fear and confusion from the kids and Moira, from Shaw's followers, and it makes him hesitate a little. How can they explain what they've been through? Would any of them believe them? How would that work, with Alex and Raven, and of course he'd still have to explain everything to Moira, figure out what they're going to do with Azazel and the others, find a way off the beach that doesn't involve being medevaced-

That can wait.

His first step is shaky, almost sluggish, but then he's running over, smiling wide enough that it's almost painful, and claps Erik on the shoulder, squeezing tightly.]

Thank you.

[He knows what this means to him.]

[He laughs - because Erik's sense of style is secretly worse than Charles's - and hiccups a little - because this is all a lot and he doesn't know how to deal with it but push through. That's what they do, after all, the two of them. They push: against each other, against other people, against themselves. Until something breaks, or they prevail.]

[Erik won this fight. He's free.]

I'll see you. Don't - don't throw Sean off anything. Not 'til I'm back to see.

[Frankly, it had surprised her too, when she'd decided to go for it. She was usually a take-your-time kinda girl when it came to this sort of thing, but then, they're time was pretty much run out. Carpe diem, damn it.

She kisses him back, leaning in against him. No, there was no way she wouldn't have at least asked. This was not something she wanted to think about in retrospect with a 'what if' attached to it.]

Not anyone under the age of fifteen, I assume, and even then.

[He has realistic expectations about people's interest in what crazy bullshit he's studying alright.

Further conversation on the subject is cut short when he takes a bite of the cookie, but his expression turns slightly pensive, maybe more a little curious.]

So, what now?

[If it makes you feel any better, while David is definitely touched and excited in his own way, he definitely isn't about to cry or try to hug you or anything like that.

Still, there's something else that needs to be acknowledged, because he really hadn't been expecting the offer.]

And thank you, for your offer. I would very much like to take you up on it, once I'm ready to leave the Barge.

You didn't. Make me regret it, I mean. [And it helps so much, seeing him succeed; seeing him choose to be something better, to cast off fate and make his own future.]

I... [She closes her eyes, for a moment. She doesn't want to cry; she's happy, so happy he'll be free of this place, free to change the world with Charles.]

You'll be amazing.

[Barbara just grins, for a moment - silent, jubilant congratulations.]

You, too. [And Charles, but she knows she doesn't need to say it.]

[She doesn't. Erik isn't as jubilant, but then he's never been particularly forthright with his emotions. Still, he smiles, and nods.]

I intend to.

[It means change. It means a life he hadn't even considered, the first time they stood on this beach. Erik exhales slowly, eyes on Charles, and nods. For a moment, his throat is tight, and the enormity of it all - of the ship, of this moment, this chance, threatens to crash down on him.

But he isn't going to squander it.

Clapping Charles shoulder in turn, Erik nods his your welcomes, and lifts his head to look around them - at the boy,s at Raven and Moira and Angel and Azazel and Tempest. The immediate threat is gone, but now they're going to have to talk very fast.

In the distance, near the wreckage of the submarine, he can see Shaw's body. Killing him didn't bring peace, but there is no more war inside Erik all the same. No struggle with anger and pain. He looks back down at Charles.]

We can talk later. [They'll always be able to talk later, now. There are no goodbyes to be said here, no realizations that they don't want the same thing because they do, now. They finally do.

He steps away from Charles, to speak with Azazel and Tempest, Angel, because they are the most important ones, now. They are the ones that still need convincing. He hasn't lost Alex or Sean's trust, not yet. Not ever.]

[He smiles quietly at the compliment. He's long since learned to accept them, to take pride in the pride of others. It was no easy thing. As it is, he nods. He will be, they will be amazing.]

So will you.

Who, me?

[He smiles, really smiles, and it says everything. It doesn't hide his real thoughts or act as a segue into another conversation. It says come home when you need to, and I'll be waiting. To welcome him, to push him, to see how much more he's grown in whatever time will separate them.]

I wouldn't dream of it.

[It makes him feel so much better. His smile even widens.]

Good. I expect the mansion will fill soon enough, but I'll see to it a room remains open for you.

We go home.

[He's almost surprised, by how readily the decision comes. Almost, because for all the people that he has come to care for here, all the people he does not want to leave, he will not remain as a warden. He will not see the worst this ship can offer, not again. He's going before the opportunity rescinds itself.]

And we start anew.

[It's so tempting to just say yes, they'll go home, they'll put this awful place behind them once and for all because there are bigger and better things waiting for them at home, but. It's hard not to feel some sense of obligation to at least one of the people still here, and so he thinks he'll try to come back.

How long he'll manage it, especially without the one person who had helped him stay sans this whole time, but he'll try.

But he's not going to try to convince Erik to stay, or even address that he intends to come back once they've left. His smile doesn't skip a beat.]

I thought that part was fairly obvious. I suppose I should start packing.

Yes, you should.

[Erik smiles in kind, moving for the door. He won't understand precisely why Charles would be willing to subject himself to this again - he might even argue against it - but he won't try to stop him. A man has to live by his convictions.]

Tomorrow. [It's decisive: he cannot stay longer than that, he doesn't want to run the risk of something happening, of something convincing him to stay.]

I've some things I still want to say. [To Anya, to Alex, to Jean. To all of the people who matter.]

[Charles watches him go, and part of him feels like he should go too, that he should go run to Raven and Moira or check on Sean, who's been limping a little and leaning heavily on Alex and Hank.

But the minds of the men on the ships are still buzzing in his skull, and he can't quite shut them out. They're afraid, confused, some of them are angry and some are beyond grateful that they've been saved, because they thought the men/monsters on the beach were going to attack them next, but they're still alive, and it's distracting.

He still comes over to try and help, to present a united front, but they're wary, not quite sure they trust these people and Charles knows Moira and the kids don't quite trust them, either. It's complicated, and he wants to take the time to persuade them properly - especially Angel, because he can remember the conversation he'd had with a version of her and how she'd realized she'd made a mistake allying herself with Shaw - but they don't have time. There's a fleet of ships out there still watching the beach, wondering what to do next, and they can't have opportunity to find a solution to this "problem".

They still have other weapons, and no one else needs to die here today.]

Erik, [And he could just tell him telepathically, but this feels like something the others need to hear, too.] We'll have more time to talk if I care of the navies.

[Watch his back while he does it goes unsaid, although he sends more of an explanation to Moira at least, wanting her to understand, even if she might not agree with him.

Fortunately, it seems like she does, or at least she trusts him to do the right thing, and it's with that confirmation that he turns back to the thousands of minds he's been brushing against since he wound up back on this beach.

It's not difficult to construct the false memories - he knows what was "supposed" to have happen, and it's with minimal tweaking that he "corrects" the timeline. It's not perfect, there are gaps, there are other people he'll need to contact to prefect it, but this is good enough to buy them safe passage home, and the Admiral should hopefully fill in the rest.

So it's not the memories that are difficult to erase and plant, but the distance and the volume of minds he needs to hold still and change, without hurting them or taking away anything that shouldn't be altered. He closes his eyes, keeps his fingers to his temple and tries to stay calm and focused, knowing he can do this but trying not to crumple under the weight of it all.

Forget. Forget that we were here. Remember this as a near miss, nothing more.

He doesn't know how much time has passed, and his mind feels stretched out and strained by the end of it, but when he finally breaks free, he knows it worked. The exhaustion hits him like a freight train, his vision swims and he sways a little where he's standing. His voice sounds strained in his ears when he remembers how to talk, but he did it. They're safe from any retaliation.] It's finished. They won't realize we're here. Or remember that we were in the first place.

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✘ | 027 | VIDEO

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