Erik Lensherr | ( Magneto ) (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
wecanavenge) wrote2014-01-15 07:22 pm
wecanavenge) wrote2014-01-15 07:22 pm
Entry tags:
- & flowers in your hair,
- alex maybe doesn't hate me i hope?,
- alles ist gut,
- and dismiss your fears,
- and love will not break your heart,
- and now i cling to what i knew,
- get over your hill and see,
- i needed more than mumford & sons lyrics,
- not you jean you stay in your room,
- ohana means family,
- saw exactly what was true,
- there will come a time you'll see,
- to fewer mistakes with anya (yeah right),
- what you find there,
- with grace in your heart,
- with no more tears
✘ | 027 | VIDEO
[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.]
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.]
[Spam]
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.
[Spam]
How's it feel?
[Spam]
[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.
[Spam]
Gawd, Erik, it's nice ta see ya smile. Really smile, without havin' ta work up ta it.
[Spam]
[Just not in the usual way.]
[Spam]
So you're headin' out tomorrow.
[Spam]
It's been two years. I won't stay here. [Because he could. He could stay, there are deals he could make. But he won't shake the devil's hand and endure another two years.] Better to leave now, than drag it out.
[He's a little sorry he didn't have more time with her, though. And he wonders if she exists, where she is, in his universe.]
[Spam] not born yet. sorry Erik
[Spam] he super doesn't want to think about that time discrepancy
I think I can stand to hear it. [He's never been good with that, with other people being proud of him. It used to invoke a visceral reaction, a memory of Shaw's wunderbar. But Shaw has been pushed from his immediate thoughts over the past two years. He no longer holds sway over Erik, and he can accept that pride without bristling.]
[Spam]he shouldn't, it's a brain killer
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.]
[Spam] legit
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.]
[Spam]
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.]
[Spam]
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.]
[Spam]
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.]