[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 )

( privates messages for Alex, Anya, Jean, Rogue, Kelsier, David )

[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.]

[All backdated to just after the flood!]

[Private to Pietro]

I know you're here, and I'm certain you're aware I am. [A beat. He's trying, but trying is hard especially when he has no idea how to broach this. It hasn't gone spectacularly with Anya or Wanda in the past.]

It's not a very big ship. And I'm obviously not the man you know. We could continue to avoid each other, if that's what you'd like. [He cracks a dry half-smile.] But I've found it's better not to assume anything, here.

[Private to Wanda]

[He took a while before turning the feed on for this, so he's perfectly composed. She doesn't need to see or deal with his issues; he wants to say this, and let it lie.]

I'm sorry. I haven't done a very good job of being easy to tolerate. You deserve better.

[Private to Alex]

I still don't expect your trust anytime soon.

[Private to Ivy]

[There is far too much kid drama here, so it's clearly time for something much less family oriented.]

'Generally regarded as sex on legs.' [Your warden, Ivy, he's very amusing to troll.]

[Private to Charles]

[Jesus Christ buddy we have got some stuff to talk about.] I spoke to Anya during the flood.

[Private to the Admiral]

This is your doing, I assume. If I ever feel so compelled to write something like this again, rest assured that it will be filled with the horrors I continue to hope you go through.

( this is the worst wishlist I'm sorry )

[Private to Toshiko]

I want a hanukkiah. I'm sure the Admiral will acquiesce.

[Private to Anya]

We should talk. [He pauses, mindful of all the missteps with Wanda; he's trying.] If that's all right.

[Private to Ivy]

[He's not death tolling anymore, and he's being jaded about the world and wound tight over Anya's appearance here - but belatedly he adds this in, because by now it's been a while, and he has no idea how she weathered port.]

We haven't spoken in some time. [Which is code for should I be worried, or are you okay in your semi-poisonous greenhouse.]

[Public]

I've always found it difficult to tell the month, here. I assume it's December, now, with the snow - but it's not as if we all came from the same time.

[He pauses, and there's some shuffling, the sound of pages turning.]

Every year, December 25th is celebrated around the world. [Dryly:] Something to do with a man and a cross. And every year, around the same time, the 25th of Kislev is celebrated to a much, much lesser extent. I have no idea what month it is by the Jewish calendar, let alone what day; but if it's December, it's more than likely that Hanukkah is approaching.

When I was a boy, we would celebrate each night by lighting the hanukkiah, one candle a night, for eight nights. [There's something almost, almost nostalgic in his voice; he hasn't observed any holiday since he was eight or so.] In better years, my parents managed presents for each night. Small things, but always appreciated.

[Another short silence, another page turning, before he goes on.] My father told me the story when I was very young - of the Maccabees fighting King Antiochus, the desecration of the Temple and the great victory Judah led against the Syrians. I believed the miracle then - that when the Jews, newly freed to practice their religion again, went to rededicate the Temple, there was only enough oil to light the menorah for one night, and yet it burned for eight, long enough to prepare more oil. It was the Eternal Light, meant to symbolize God's eternal presence. [He sounds almost dismissive, now, like he's laying out a lecture he doesn't believe in. Erik has never been a religious man.]

When I was small, I believed it. I know better now. There was no miracle; there are no miracles. The oil likely burned, and the flame likely guttered and died again. And two thousand years later, parents still lie to their children to give them hope, and make them feel less disconnected from the world around them at this time of year.

[He snorts quietly.] At least it's a pretty sham.