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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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Nothing. Everything.

[So much feels like it's slipping out of his grip, like everything is spiraling away from him. But it isn't an ugly thing, it isn't like knowing the coin won't move, it isn't like the gunshot ringing in his ears. It's not his stomach dropping from him, not the world narrowing.

He's panicked because it's widening.]

I want to go home, Charles. I want to help those kids.

[The Alexes and the Hanks and the Darwins and the Seans, the Jeans and the Scotts and the Pyros, all the kids they know and don't, the ones who are going to need them to exist in a world that only knows how to hate them.

It's a big difference, from the man who was only interested in using them as an army.]

[The panic - although that doesn't feel like the right word at all, except it is, because there's an irrational part of him that's worried even though he can feel how much Erik means this that it's going to be ripped away from him, from them - is catching, and it's making his throat feel tight, almost swollen, like he's not sure if he's about to laugh or cry because please-

If Erik wasn't this emotional, if he'd just said it over breakfast that morning as a casual statement, Charles probably would have just smiled and said well obviously, that's always been the plan, they've agreed on that much at least, it's not like we're planning on staying here forever. But this is it, this is important, they're standing on the brink of something and he desperately hopes it is what he thinks it is.

He takes a breath, and his voice sounds steadier than he thought it was going to.]

You're serious?

You can't do it alone. [Not because Charles is weak, not because Erik is strong, but because they are better together. Because they are strongest when they work in tandem, in battle or politics or teaching or in god damn child rearing, it needs to be both of them. Charles can't do it without him. They can't do it if he's stuck here.

You need me. And so do they.

[It's like brushing your fingers against an object just out of reach, like trying to remember a word momentarily forgotten. He's serious. He means it. But just wanting to go isn't enough. Things need to change.

He can't be the man who abandoned them on a beach. He can't be the man who saw revenge in the murder of thousands.]

[It's nothing they don't already know, nothing they haven't already said, but it's different this time, and he feels like he's shaking a little, although he can't quite identify the reason as excitement or fear or just bone deep relief.

They'd just been talking about this, about Moira and how what they'd done would be remembered, and this is different now, things are and have changed.]

We really do. [And he means it, means it more than anything because he knows he isn't perfect, he knows he needs someone to call him out on his bullshit and prop up his weak points, and he's known it for such a long time.

He swallows, amends it slightly even though he feels vaguely selfish for doing so.] I really do.

[He can't do that again. He just can't.]

Charles, I--

[He stops, runs both hands through his hair, pressing them down against his head. They need him. Need him. A teacher, a friend, not Frankenstein's Monster, not a freak stumbling through the world searching for revenge. He had his revenge. It didn't give him peace.

Maybe this can.]

I was wrong.

[Behind him somewhere, there's a soft clink of a plate dropping onto the table, full of smiling cookies.]

[Charles spots it first, and the telepath takes in a sharp, shaky breath before letting out an equally shaky, relieved, happy, completely overwhelmed laugh.

His vision's blurry, and there's still a worried sense of is this really happening, but they're both here and nothing's - everything's - changed, and there's a plate of those stupid cookies on the table.]

If I knew that was all I had to get you to say, I would have tried to talk you into it much sooner.

[He's teasing, obviously, completely teasing, because he doesn't know what else to say, what else to do. It's the culmination of two years of absolute hell, and this was always something Erik had to do by himself, no matter how much pushing and nagging and cajoling and supporting Charles or anyone else could do along the way.

They can leave. They can go home.]

[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.]

[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.

[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.]

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.]

[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.]

[Charles swipes his hand over his eyes when they separate and grins, feeling a bit less hysterical as the reality of the situation finally starts to sink in. This isn't a dream, or a flood, or just some horrible practical joke, and already he's impatient to see what's next because it seems like the possibilities are basically endless.]

I am sometimes. Maybe if you listened to me a bit more often...

[But he's just teasing, especially considering it's not like there's been serious communication issues between the two of them in a very, very long time.

He laughs again, and this time it's lighter, less choked, because this is real and it's happening and:]

God, Erik, we can go home. [And it is we, because as much as he knows he was never really held captive here, he was. He absolutely was, and while there are still other obligations, other people to stick around for, they're free, they can go, they're not trapped by other people's omens and warnings about the future, and he spontaneously heads for the cookies, grabbing the plate and offering it to Erik.]

Have one, they're actually quite good.

[Erik settles his hand on Charles' shoulder and squeezes. He wants to say that Charles always could have, should have, but he's too grateful that the telepath stayed. He was, has been, an anchor, and Erik would have long since been adrift without him. he thinks maybe he'd have died here more than once without Charles by his side.

They'll stand at one another's side, now. Not just here, but in the real world, where they can do real good for people who may not have second chances. Erik exhales slowly, lets Charles go to the plate and laughs sharply when he takes the cookie.]

To the school, [he says, with a careless grin in place, and then, a touch more seriously,] To freedom.

[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.

[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?

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?

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.]

[He follows, knowing he needs to make his own goodbyes and have his own time to process what this means - although he's not sure how much he'll actually need to pack himself thanks to the Admiral - and wanting to give Erik the space do to his on his own pace and comfort level.

Tomorrow. He still can't believe that they're finally here.]

I'll be here. And in the mean time, if you're in need of any emotional counseling, [Since you kind of suck at this on your own.] You know where to find me.

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✘ | 027 | VIDEO

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