This is a double response and doesn't entirely fit either challenge, but it's what came out. No it's not, Mel. CONTINUITY: None. MONEY EARNED FROM THIS: Definitely none. CHARACTERS MINE: Also none. They belong to Marvel, who doesn't love him *nearly* as much and me and Alara do. Magneto war... Noooo... FEEDBACK: Craved. STORY OWNERSHIP: Mine. LITTLE WORDS, BIG LIES "I don't care." Rogue had looked at him strangely when he'd said that. "You sure?" She didn't believe him. How silly. "Yes. Honestly, you cannot expect that I had not realised it would end like this. I can't say that I won't have a few fond memories of the might-have-been, but at the same time I can't say the reality will be missed." *Liar,* hissed an inner thought. It was ignored. I don't care. Magnus politely excused himself from the gathering of mutants, pleading tiredness. He had 'saved the world' just last week, after all. Once safely in his own rooms he sighed and walked to the mirror, making sure that none of his depression showed on his face. No, not really. A little resigned, perhaps. The eyes were too sad though, he turned away from the mirror. Even his own scrutiny was unwelcome. The desk was comfortingly familiar, and as always covered with peaceful work to do. I don't care. The glass vase from the desk hurtled across the room with all the force a strongly-built, well-toned man can muster. It shattered with a satisfying crash. Several other things followed. Then Magnus reined in his anger, crushing it determinedly. He banished all thoughts of turning New Orleans into rubble, Gambit hadn't seen her in a year and probably had nothing to do with it. Instead he tsked quietly to himself and cleaned up the debris, attributing the childish display to bruised ego. I don't care. The few unhappy tears were somehow necessary, probably his sense of drama. A few moments to grieve Might-Have-Been. Then Magnus pulled on a pair of headphones and opened a complicated history book. That way he wouldn't be able to hear himself. I don't care. His emotions had been pushed and squeezed into a box. Magnus, calmly lying in bed, was now philosophically resigned to the fact that they were both almost certainly better off this way. A little lonely, a little sad. He'd get over it. He was Magneto, aloof, unassailable. Unbreakable. Inside, a mocking lie echoed endlessly through the emptiness the suppressed emotions had left. Idon'tcareIdon'tcareIdon'tcareIdon'tcareIdon'tcareIdon'tcare... He didn't attach any importance to the fact that he now habitually slept with his arms wrapped around himself, his own security and comfort. Idon'tcareIdon'tcareIdon'tcareIdon'tcareIdon'tcareIdon'tcare... Magnus paid absolutely no attention to the cold, heavy weight on his soul. It was rather familiar, and not worth noticing. Idon'tcareIdon'tcareIdon'tcareIdon'tcareIdon'tcareIdon'tcare... He was Magneto, the Master of Magnetism, the Mutant Messiah and many other M words. He didn't care. ______________________________________________________ Get Your Private, Free Email at http://www.hotmail.com