This is very short. This is not slash, not even in the slightest. This is during the current Magneto continuity, where he is leading Genosha. No, Xavier's not around, but what if he was? :) Marvel characters, non-profit. =============== Across the Shores =============== The wind whips around us, like it is wont to do in the middle of the ocean. "It was betrayal, Charles." He does not disagree; making my belief in his guilt crystallize. He never disagrees. Sometimes, I wish he would. Instead, he asks, "We always come back here." It is not phrased as a question, does not have the cadence of a query, yet it is asking nonetheless; a great many questions, and I do not have the answers. I can feel the energies of him, and they worry. The very air around us worries. He does not like this place. Nor do I. That is why I come back, whenever he wishes to speak with me. It just seems all too fitting a place to be. I say, "I am not proud of a lot of things I have done in my life." I turn to face him, stare him down. "But I am proud of this." "It will never be--" I hold my hand up, and smile a sad smile. He copies it, trying to keep all other sentiment out of his face; the anger and disappointment and yes, even affection. It almost works. I silenced him because I do not want this to be Just Another Talk. This is different. Now is different. The other players in the worldly drama are absent, today, and I'm grateful. I miss my friend. He is a hundred thousand miles away, and the distance between us does not grow fondness on either heart. Distance breeds distance, and we both know it. It saddens me, to feel that gulf, even though we did the pushing of those canyon walls ourselves. I think it saddens him too. He stares off to sea. I suppose he is looking for his ship to come in, the freighter that carries co-existence on its back, and peace and love tucked snugly in the cargo hold. I look at the submarine under our feet. That is my ship. I know it. The waves are corroding it, piece by piece, as I know strife and -- Stryfe, why not, and -- politicking and threats and violence will Genosha... But it is *mine*. They mean so much more than they seem to mean, these few words. We speak so little, and yet they mean so much. A simple conversation, regret, and yet it is the only thing to touch me from his side of the mountain. Or is it his side of the ocean? He has moved so far out to sea, I can't see his position at all. If he is only now seeing that there is no rescue in sight, I pity for him. I am not giving up my chance for *something*, for one thing he cannot give-- Perhaps he cannot see the ship, and is frightened by the loss of shoreline, for very quietly, he says, "I'm sorry, Magnus. For a lot of things." They mean so much more. I reply, "As am I." It does not make the rusted tanker into a luxury cruiser, or reality into a dream of something better. But it's what I want, and what I *will* do in Genosha. Whatever it takes. ___________________________________________________________ T O P I C A The Email You Want. http://www.topica.com/t/16 Newsletters, Tips and Discussions on Your Favorite Topics