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.]
no subject
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.]
no subject
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.]
no subject
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.
no subject
He's not overly worried about anyone trying to stab the telepath in the back, but all the same, he stands shoulder to shoulder with Charles, back to the ocean. His eyes find Alex's, Raven's, and he wonders when they will remember, when all of their lives will realign.
Soon, he hopes.
Erik doesn't say a word while Charles works, though he moves away to check on the boys, make sure Sean isn't too badly hurt. He stays close enough. Just in case.
And he's back at Charles' side when he finishes. A hand immediately grips his arm as he sways, tight, and some of the tension, the concern that he would not show when he realized what Charles was doing comes through. Thousands of men, thousands of minds. Charles hasn't pushed himself, not like Erik has, to learn his limits, and though Erik does not think this is his limit, the fear that it is was there.]
Incredible, [He says, because Charles deserves the praise of a job well done, too. Lifting his free hand, he waves them forward, watching two groups grudgingly inch toward becoming one.]
We're safe to leave. And eventually, [he glances at Charles,] under better circumstances, they'll learn about us. When we don't have to worry about the world equating us to a near disaster. [His voice is still dry, ironic, because he is still not happy with hiding. But at least they won't hide in fear.]
Azazel. [He reaches out, offering his hand to Raven, watches hands link, watches hesitations. They don't matter, right now. It's time to go home.]
no subject
You're always telling me I should push myself, [He quotes glibly, still a little breathless, and he smiles when Erik qualifies, knowing he doesn't like it, remembering their countless arguments about it, but appreciating his discretion. He pulls his arm free so that he can take Erik's hand, squeezing gently. Thank you.
Moira takes his other hand, and he looks over at her almost shyly, remembering... everything and wondering how this is going to be different, now that there isn't months of painful recovery ahead of them, ending in terrible guilt. She smiles just a little- she's still not afraid of them, and it's hard not to just blurt out that he's sorry, he's so sorry for being such an idiot.
He smiles back instead, bright and reassuring, and tries to focus his attention on staying awake.
The trip home is almost disorienting, does nothing for his building headache, and he'd like nothing better than to change out of his flightsuit and sleep, but there are matters to attend to and he's adamant about helping Erik take care of it. They're a team, they do this together, and he's not curling up in an armchair while there are injuries to treat, beds to make for their new visitors, tensions to alleviate. It's hard not to flutter around Alex and Raven in hopes they might start remembering, but he manages to restrain himself, focus on what needs to get done.
Moira wants to return to base, make some angry demands of her superiors, but Charles convinces her to stay at least until tomorrow. He needs to talk with her, but he's too exhausted to tackle that now. Not tonight.
It feels like forever for everything to get settled, until he's able to get Erik on his own and when he finally does, he doesn't beat around the bush.]
How are you feeling? [But he also means we need to talk, and now that things are winding down, they finally have a chance to.]