I call this fic: The one where, no matter her name, She will always be a warrior deep inside and all roads lead to Rome (or New York... as the case may be).

If you read this as a Stand Alone, all you need to know is that this takes characters from the X-Men moviverse, the MCU and two major OFCs, it's an AU for both my original fic and the two fandoms (only the first X-Men movie happened as in canon), the changes are explained in the story itself.

I don't own anything from the MCU, X-Men, or anything else you might see in this fic, aside from the Original Characters, though I certainly don't own the actresses who play them in my mind, and sometimes in fanarts.

To those who might be interested. Silbhé is played by Emily Browning, and Kathryn by Kristin Scott Thomas.

Also, XMDoFP never happened (neither version of events), except for very specific details that will be mentioned in the fic. In other words, no apocalyptic future caused by Mystique's actions (I honestly think that, in the universe I've created, so many heroes together... they'd have never allowed for things to go that far).

This is the fic that kept getting longer and longer. At first I had no idea what exactly I was going to write. Then I began asking myself how things would have been if Nightingale had been part of a different group (like a variation of my previous AU Secret Warriors), and it kinda snowballed from there. Also, I ended taking this opportunity to bring out all the feels that oldCherik always brings me. While I much prefer to write FirstClass-era fix-its (it's easier that way). I'd had ideas for something like this in the back of my head for a very long time. Now I'm finally writing it all down (that's probably why this fic is turning out twice as long as it was originally supposed to be).

Anyway, hope you like it. Here we go!


Rage and Serenity

(Alternative Universe to Nightingale and Songstress)

By: Lalaith Quetzalli

The plan was for her to stay away, to be safe... it required a sacrifice, one they were willing to make. The plan never was for her to become a fighter and join the war against an alien army, yet some things are just meant to be. Some destinies have been written in the stars since the beginning of time...

Silbhé

When you're neither human nor mutant, where can you find a home?

I was in my favorite corner of the manor's huge grounds. One of the areas that served as gardens, that one in particular was full of roses in every color of the rainbow (even some that most human might believe impossible), with scattered lavender bushes around and a huge jacaranda tree in full bloom in the middle. The flowers bloomed all year long, which wasn't really normal, but then again, it's not like any of us living in that place, in the 1407 Graymalkin Lane of North Salem in Westchester County, New York, was normal at all. The place was, after all, Xavier's School for Gifted Youngsters... and while most people believed that meant geniuses or something like that, the truth was very different. The students, almost everyone living there really, was quite gifted, though not in ways most people, most humans, might expect... though that was probably because most of us weren't quite human, we were more.

I was playing my black jade dizi (Chinese traversal flute), sitting in an ornate stone bench someone had carved, probably without tools, many years earlier, with detailing that would amaze most master sculptors.

Her approach was slow, hesitant, and I knew that the fact that I didn't immediately stop playing made it seem like I was ignoring her, or maybe simply hadn't noticed her there, neither of which was true. Those that knew me understood that music was part of my life, the way I expressed myself, what was in my heart and soul, when words failed me.

Eventually I stopped, put the dizi down on my lap and turned my head to the petals floating on the breeze. I didn't say a word, not until I sensed the person sitting beside me on the bench, who'd arrived while I'd been playing, about to move.

"I know you're there." I told her calmly.

"I didn't mean to bother you." She said quietly.

"You didn't." I assured her. "Few people are ever interested in this little corner of the grounds. Vera created it just for me, she knows how much I love roses... and most of the students would rather spend their free time playing around, doing sports or on video-games."

"I know." She nodded. "I was there for a while but... I just wanted a change, some peace."

"I know what you mean." I assured her.

And I did, I much preferred peace and quiet, which I usually found either in that little rose-patch, or the music room... at least whenever the poor excuse for a band wasn't trying to play something (emphasis on 'trying').

"What you were playing just know... the melody...?" She didn't seem to quite know how to word her question, though eventually she managed. "Does it have a name?"

"Not quite." I answered honestly. "It's just... I created the melody, if you could call it that, there are no sheets, no registry, but I know the notes and play them by heart, I put them together years ago... So I suppose the melody exists, even if mostly in my own head. I like to call it Trail of the Angels... it's supposed to be a lullaby."

"It's beautiful." She offered. "And very peaceful..."

I couldn't help the smile as she said that. It was peace that I sought when I'd created the melody, and whenever I played it, I was glad someone could share those feelings with me.

"I'm Silbhé Salani." I told her, offering my hand as I twisted around just enough to face her (for we were sitting on the same bench, but turned in opposite directions). "Some people around here call me Canary if you prefer."

She seemed to hesitate for a couple of seconds before finally taking my offered hand in her own, a glove keeping her skin from touching mine.

"Canary..." She repeated. "Quite fitting. I am Rogue..." She hesitated again. "My friends call me Marie... just Marie."

Rogue... I knew who she was. Everyone in the school knew, in some level, after the confrontation between the X-Men and the Brotherhood on Ellis Island... and even before that, when the X-Men had found her and that feral mutant, Logan, and first brought them to the school. I also knew that no one in the school referred to her as Marie, not even the teachers, she was always Rogue. Logan was the only one to call her by her birth-name, the fact that she was offering it to me...

"And am I your friend?" I asked her softly.

"I think I would like that." She admitted quietly.

"Then call me Silbhé." I smiled at her. "Few people do around here, to be honest, but that's still my name."

It was a couple of hours before I had to move. Not much had been said, but at some point, after Rogue mentioned that it'd been the sound of the flute that first drew her to my little garden, I brought the flute to my lips I began playing again. I didn't realize at first, probably wouldn't for a while, but that was when I began composing again, the first song I composed in two years... since my life had done a complete and unexpected 180.

xXx 3rd Person POV xXx

"I gotta go now, I'm needed elsewhere... You know, there's a meeting starting in a few minutes of, well, you could call it a club, the theme is mythology, mostly European. In case you're interested. It takes place in the Reading Room in the East Wing."

The words were still ringing in Rogue's head even as she stepped into the room where the meeting was taking place. There were a number of people already in the room, some sitting in couches and chairs around the place, others in huge cushions, or even on the floor. The green eyed, brown haired (except for a white streak) sixteen-year-old could even recognize several of those present: like Bobby Drake, St. John Allerdyce, Kitty Pryde, Piotr... something, she couldn't actually remember the boy's name, only that he was the same age as her, unlike the other three, who were a year younger. There were also a couple of teachers around, though it was hard to tell if they were there to supervise the club or they were simply interested in the topic.

"Good evening everyone." A soft, melodic voice announced the arrival of the 'teacher' that was to lead the session.

Rogue had to do a double-take as her eyes laid on the newcomer, and she was sure she wasn't the only one. A young woman stepped into the room then, about five feet tall (if that), with hazel eyes, auburn hair in a twist at the back of her head and wearing the same short-sleeved, floor-length salmon colored dress with a black collar she'd been wearing earlier as she played the flute in the rose garden...

"Is this some kind of joke?!"

"You cannot be our teacher... you've gotta be a student like us!"

"She's just a girl!"

The comments began coming from every direction and, as Dr. Grey (Jean Grey) began moving, probably getting ready to bring the room to order, Rogue suddenly had a very good idea of why the other two teachers were truly there.

"Silence everyone please." The young woman called.

She barely raised her voice, nothing like what Rogue, or most of those present might have been expecting, and yet there was an undercurrent of power running through every word. The whole room went silent in seconds.

"Thank you." She nodded politely. "Now, to address your concerns. No, I'm not a student. Yes, I am young, but I can assure you I'm perfectly capable of leading a mythology club. I may be just a few years older than most of you, and younger than any of the other professors, but I'm not a student, at all." She made a pause, making sure she had everyone's attention before continuing: "My name is Silbhé Salani and I have a double Masters in Mythology and History, and am currently working in my Masters in Literature, as it is I have leave to teach the former two. Have several papers published, including my Graduate thesis in Mythology: Gods of Flesh and Blood, in which I explore the possible true individuals that might have been once called gods in ancient times, even though they were anything but."

"I've read that!" A girl in the back of the room, Theresa Cassidy called abruptly. "You said that some of them might be like us!"

'Like them'... while Silbhé hadn't exactly used the term mutant, she'd offered the possibility of there actually being gifted people... it wasn't as wild a theory as some might have believed, even those who didn't know the truth about the people living and attending the Xavier Institute.

"Indeed." Silbhé nodded. "I am also fluent in nearly a dozen languages. I hope you'll find my credentials to be enough and we might begin this first session of our club..."

"What's your name?" John called from a side.

"I believe I'd answered that already." She stated, kindly. "I am Silbhé Salani..."

"Your real name!" John... Pyro interrupted.

"Ah..." Silbhé nodded in understanding. "Let me tell you something Mr... Pyro. That might be the name you choose to bear. But taking new names does not mean the old ones no longer count, unless you do not want them to. I was given the name of Silbhé Arianna Kinross-Salani upon my birth, and that will always be my name, regardless of whatever might happen." She made a pause to let her words sink in, before continuing. "Now, if you still wish to know, some of the children right here in the institute have given me the name of Canary, and it is one I carry with pride."

Pyro didn't say anything else, it looked like he didn't quite know how to react to what their new 'teacher' had just said. At the very least her speech seemed to made some people think. While some might choose to drop their birth-names after having been disowned by their families, choosing new names for themselves, that didn't mean they all had to do it. In Rogue's personal case, she felt more like Rogue than Marie, had since her power had first manifested; and yet that did not mean that the part of her that was Marie didn't exist anymore, it was just more guarded. She probably would never be D'Ancanto again, though.

"Now, lets begin with something simple." Silbhé stated, taking charge of the club with little effort, she'd already managed to make an impression. "What is a myth...?"

Dr. Grey left the room quietly as Canary took charge of the group, coming to the conclusion that her presence wasn't really necessary. Prof. Honey, on the other hand, chose to stay, she was actually intrigued by the club.

Unfortunately, the trouble didn't actually end there. After some talk about what a myth was, and the kind of individuals that had been called 'gods' in ancient times, Silbhé/Canary had gone straight into the Greek Pantheon. However, when she moved to switch the display on to show them some pictures, she realized the projector had been fried. There was no way of knowing for sure if it'd been Pyro, or someone else. The brunette teacher moved immediately to aid Silbhé, though there was little she could do, and everyone knew it.

"It's quite alright Jen." Silbhé said softly when noticing the older woman was quite preoccupied about the whole thing. "I suppose we'll just have to make this little session a bit more interesting than originally planned..."

Before anyone would ask what she meant the answer came. Silbhé moved her hands, as if she were drawing something in the air (or directing an orchestra); nothing happened for a handful of seconds or so, and then the light seemed to begin changing right before her, taking shape, and different colors. It took almost a full minute, but suddenly there seemed to be a semi-translucent painting floating in the air right before the auburn-haired young woman.

"Now, as I was saying." She stated as she stepped around the image, the illusion. "The Greek Pantheon consists of a number of gods and goddesses than can be divided in several manners. For this club we'll classify them according to their level of power and lineage. The highest three then would be the ones known as the brothers, the most powerful of them: Poseidon, who ruled over the seas, Hades, whose purview was the underworld, and Zeus, god of thunder, lord of the skies and King of all the gods..."

Professor Xavier was there when everyone exited the room at the end of the session.

"Everything go alright then?" He asked as he waved at the children who said their good-nights to him as they passed.

"You know exactly how it all went." Silbhé stated with a smile.

It wasn't a rebuke, not even a complaint. She knew better than most how Charles Xavier's telepathy worked, even if she wasn't actually a telepath herself. She could sense when he was in her head and she didn't mind, never had.

"Well dear, I come here to tell you that the children are waiting for their bedtime song..." The Professor pointed out.

Silbhé actually froze for a second, before turning her eyes to the clock on the hall. If the professor heard her mental curse (in Gaelic) he didn't comment, he just nodded and chuckled gently as he watched her run down the hall, in the direction of the North Wing and the second floor, where the youngest kids' dorms were located.

A few of the 'students' were actually curious enough to follow her. They arrived just in time to learn just why the hazel-eyed young woman was called Canary. No one said a word, they just stood there, watching in awe as she stood in the hallway, just outside the doors that lead to the youngest children' dorms and, without any signal or background music, began singing. None of them had ever heard such a song, such a voice, it was no wonder the children loved her...

"Found myself today
Oh I found myself and ran away
Something pulled me back
The voice of reason I forgot I had
All I know is you're not here to say
What you always used to say
But it's written in the sky tonight"

"So I won't give up
No I won't break down
Sooner than it seems life turns around
And I will be strong
Even if it all goes wrong
When I'm standing in the dark I'll still believe
Someone's watching over me"

"Seen that ray of light
And it's shining on my destiny
Shining all the time
And I wont be afraid
To follow everywhere it's taking me
All I know is yesterday is gone
And right now I belong
To this moment to my dreams"

"So I won't give up
No I won't break down
Sooner than it seems life turns around
And I will be strong
Even if it all goes wrong
When I'm standing in the dark I'll still believe
Someone's watching over me"

"It doesn't matter what people say
And it doesn't matter how long it takes
Believe in yourself and you'll fly high
And it only matters how true you are
Be true to yourself and follow your heart"

"So I won't give up
No I won't break down
Sooner than it seems life turns around
And I will be strong
Even if it all goes wrong
When I'm standing in the dark I'll still believe
That I won't give up
No I won't break down
Sooner than it seems life turns around
And I will be strong
Even when it all goes wrong
When I'm standing in the dark I'll still believe
That someone's watching over
Someone's watching over
Someone's watching over me
Someone's watching over me"

xXx

It was a couple of weeks, days filled with mornings working inside the mansion, in classes or doing research, meal-times full of laughter (even as distance was kept, for reasons), and then afternoons relaxing in a corner of a garden, with nothing but the blue sky on top, the smell of roses around them, and the seemingly endless sound of a black jade flute. Eventually Rogue felt confident enough to ask the questions that had been in her head since the start.

"How long...?" Even then she didn't seem to quiet know how to phrase it.

"How long what?" Silbhé inquired in turn, calmly. "How long I've been here? How long I've had powers? How long I've known the Professor?"

"How about all of the above?" Rogue quipped with a small smile.

"Whether you believe it or not, each of those questions has a different answer." Silbhé pointed out calmly as she laid back against the jacaranda tree.

For whatever the reason, the auburn-haired girl had chosen to ignore the bench that day, instead sitting on the grass, with her back against the tree. Rogue, who was actually on the bench, watched as she waved the flute in her hand around, seemingly without a care, until colors began taking shape ever so slowly; Silbhé was using her powers.

"I've been here for a little over a year now." The hazel-eyed eventually answered. "Though things actually began happening to me months, possibly as long as a year before... I didn't notice at first, I don't think... and about the last... Aunt Kathryn had known about Professor Xavier for years, I think she might have worked with him at some point, before I was born."

"Worked with him?" Marie wasn't expecting that.

"She was an agent, worked for the government for fifteen years." Silbhé stated calmly. "Mostly the British one, I think. She retired when I was three years old, after my mum died, to help my father look after me."

"Where's your father?" The younger girl blurted out before she could think better of it.

"Somewhere in Germany with his second wife and his step-children." Silbhé shrugged even as she said that. "It had nothing to do with my powers, if you're wondering. He knows nothing about them. Not because I was hiding it from him, he simply was never around to find out. When I was young he was always working, then later on I was always studying and he began traveling around. By the time I was sixteen he spent more time in other countries than he did at home. Him marrying someone and moving away officially wasn't really that much of a change at that point." She shook her head. "In any case, I think Aunt Kathryn worked with the Professor some time in the eighties... either that or she'd at least heard about him. About his true work, and not just the articles and conferences most people know him for. The moment she realized what was going on she immediately said we'd to come see him. I still stayed at home for a while, until my powers began growing faster and we realized it might be safer here..."

"But..." Marie hesitated.

"Just say it." Silbhé pushed.

"I don't see how your powers could be dangerous." Rogue admitted. "I mean, you know what I can do, the way I have to stay covered all the time. What you can do... they're just illusions!"

Silbhé didn't answer to that comment, or at least not verbally. Rogue said nothing as she watched what looked like colorful brushstrokes in the air, almost as if the wind had color (it kind of reminded the girl of that song 'Colors of the Wind' and the Disney movie of that Indian princess she'd seen once... it'd never been her style, but still). Soon it wasn't only the colors, but leaves and petals were twirling around as well. For a minute or so Marie believed it was a pretty illusion, though she considered the ones of painting and sculptures of gods and myths to have been much more interesting, until she extended a hand, and ended with a handful of petals in it.

"Are you in my head?" She blurted out suddenly, instinctively closing her hand around the petals. "Are you making me believe they're real?"

"I don't need to make you believe anything Marie." Silbhé told her calmly.

The colors disappeared abruptly, and yet the petals and leaves were still there, though they began falling. Rogue opened her hand to find semi-crushed petals in her palm. They were real, she had no doubt about that.

"I'm no telepath." Silbhé explained. "When I create my illusions... I don't go into people's heads to make them believe they're seeing something that doesn't exist."

"How do you do it then?"

"I... we think I manipulate the light, somehow. Kind of like the hard-light holograms in sci-fi movies." The hazel-eyed wasn't sure how to explain it, but was trying her best. "I've been told you even feel something, as if the air thickened, if you touch them. Though they certainly don't feel real." She made a pause before adding. "The point I was trying to make just now however, is that my powers consist of more than just my illusions."

"How? I mean... illusions and telekinesis? How do those two relate?"

"I don't think they actually have to relate. There are other mutants with two gifts that don't necessarily connect. Like Emily Silverfox, she can turn into diamond and has a level of telepathy. I've been told she inherited both from her mother, Emma Frost. Then there's of course Dr. Grey, she's both telekinetic and telepathic, though I think the second one is minor, at least compared to the Professor..."

"I've heard about that, but it's supposed to be rare, isn't it, people with more than one gift, and particularly unrelated ones..."

Silbhé actually considered lying. Even if she'd already told Rogue that her illusions weren't actually a mind-trick; one could say that manipulating light and manipulating mass (for her telekinesis) weren't that different), she was sure she could even make it sound believable! Silbhé wasn't what most would consider a good liar, but she was a master at twisting words to make people believe one thing even when she meant something entirely different... And yet, Marie was her friend, and the hazel-eyed girl didn't like lying to her friends. Also, if things went right, most people would end up finding out the truth about her sooner or later, not just when it cam to the gory details of her family-life, but mainly of the fact that she had multiple powers (more than just illusion and telekinesis, in fact).

"Do you trust me?" The hazel-eyed young woman asked unexpectedly.

"Yes." Marie's response was automatic, almost instinctive, which showed how honest she was being about it.

It was also shocking, considering the two girls had only known each other for two weeks, and there was still so much they didn't know. Marie had explained (and not just to Silbhé) about her old life in a small town in Mississippi. How it'd been a good life, until the first time she kissed a boy... her mother had been either too weak or too afraid, her father either too afraid or too angry, and the town as a whole did not understand... all they knew for certain was that her boyfriend was in a coma, in the hospital, and it was somehow her fault. Marie'd had to leave.

Silbhé herself had only just revealed her own story that very day... and somehow they trusted each other already... it was shocking.

The smaller (but older) girl took advantage of the momentary pause as Rogue fully-processed what she'd just said and, before the younger (but taller) girl had a chance to say a word, a creamy-skinned hand was pressed against a tanned cheek.

Marie was about to scream, but before she could, fingers were placed on her lips.

"Sh..." Silbhé told her quietly, calmly, still holding Marie's face in her hands. "It's alright. No reason to panic. I'm just fine. See?"

And Rogue could see, once she took a moment to calm down. Silbhé didn't look any different, even as she kept touching Rogue, her veins weren't becoming more obvious beneath her skin, her eyes weren't rolling into the back of her head, she wasn't paling and, more importantly, Rogue wasn't feeling any energy or power feeling her.

"Take off your glove." Silbhé instructed.

Marie was still shocked by the whole thing, she did as asked without even stopping to think about why exactly she'd made a point of never taking off her gloves, not even when she slept. Her roommate seemed to be tense enough around her even with Marie covering as much of her body as she could, it was actually kind of sad.

After several seconds the two girls were kneeling beside the stone bench, with the roses all around them, holding hands, and nothing was happening. For a moment it was as if Rogue's power were gone, as if she'd never had them. Though she knew that wasn't true. She could feel the edge of... something that she identified as her gift (or her curse) in the back of her mind, along with other things. But still, it wasn't reacting to Silbhé's touch at all, she remained completely unaffected, they both did.

"How...?" She wasn't even sure how to word that particular question.

"They don't know." Silbhé shrugged a bit as she admitted that. "I'm not a mutant. The Professor has tested me, as did Dr. McCoy, one of his first generation of students. My genes do not show the mutations that characterizes everyone gifted... however, there's something else there... like a hint of something else. Not enough to justify why I can do the things I do though..."

"And what about you?" Marie inquired softly, refusing to let go just yet, it felt so good... being able to touch somebody again... "Do you know why?"

"You picked up on that, huh?" Silbhé couldn't help but smile. "It's all part of the mess that is my life..." She sighed. "It's kind of a long story..."

"I'd love to hear it, if you're willing to share..."

"Very well. I told you that I've been here for a year, that things began happening before that, but I didn't move here until Aunt Kathryn and I decided it was for the best... that's true, thought it has less to do with my powers, and more to do with other things, like my mind. You're not a telepath, so I'm not quite sure how to explain it in a way that you might understand, but I'll try... you see, there are parts of my mind, of my memories, that are missing." She made a pause, reconsidered and then revised her statement. "Well no, not quite missing. They're there alright, I just don't have access to them."

"And couldn't the professor help you?"

"No. He's tried. That's why I first came, not because of my powers, Aunt Kathryn didn't know about those, no one did, until much later. The professor looked into my mind when Aunt Kathryn explained to him that I seemed to be exhibiting a sort of selective amnesia, with pieces of my memories missing for no apparent reason. He explained to us that the memories were still there, they were just locked."

"And the key?"

"I don't know, I don't have it. Or at least I don't think I do..."

"So what? Someone blocked some of your memories, why?"

"I don't know for sure, but I think there was a very good reason for it. Don't ask me to explain, it's some kind of instinct I have. Like there's someone who wanted to protect me and the only way they knew how was to seal those memories."

"And you think that... what? Once it's safe, once you're safe, you'll get them back? How will you know when the time comes?"

"The professor agrees with me that I will get my memories back someday. If I weren't meant to, they would have been erased, rather than just sealed. I mean, someone with the power to lock parts of my mind surely wouldn't have had any trouble deleting them instead. But they didn't. We think that means I will get them back someday. I don't know when that'll be, I suppose we'll be finding out when it happens."

"So, if not because your powers, why did you end up here?"

"Well, the powers came later, around the same time talks about a Mutant Registration Act began... we knew already that no tests would ever show anything was different about me, but Aunt Kathryn didn't want to risk it. We also had seen suspicious people around our home a few times. The Professor offered me a safe place here. I told him I'd help any way I could... and that's pretty much how I ended singing the little children to sleep every night."

"You have a beautiful voice."

"Thank you."

"And then there's the mythology club, of course."

"Yes, the club... that's actually supposed to be practice, to be a teacher, I mean. We hope that I can learn enough with the club sessions, and the students can get used to a teacher that's barely a couple of years older than them. If all goes well I will begin teaching History to some of the groups next semester, possibly even Literature, once I finish that degree."

"And languages. Why do you even know that many?"

"Well, English might be my first language, but my mother was actually Irish, that was hers, and while I can only remember one lullaby and a few endearments and phrases she'd use in that language, I learned it at a young age, in her memory. When I was young I met a boy, called Luka. He gifted me the dizi, in fact. I learned Norse for him, I think that was his birth-tongue..."

"You think?"

"He's part of the things I cannot remember. I mean, I remember he existed, his name, that he gave me the black jade flute... and I have an image of him as a child, thirteen-years-old or something, though a part of my mind says there's something wrong with that image..." She shook her head. "Probably because he's older now... but I cannot remember that. I'm quite sure that couldn't have been the last time I saw him, but I have no other memories of him."

"You think he's the one who locked your memories?"

Silbhé had to actually stop and consider what Marie had just said, the implications of it all. A part of her felt there was something very right about that idea, and at the same time, not quite. They were missing something, something huge... in the end, all the hazel-eyed could do was shrug, it wasn't like theorizing about what or who might have sealed her memories would make them unseal any faster.

"In any case, that's how it began." Silbhé went on, going back to their original topic. "When I got interested in mythology, I realized that a lot of the texts about it when in other languages. At first I consulted translations, but there were actually different versions, and I since I wasn't sure which one could be trusted, I decided I'd rather know the truth, so I began learning other languages: like Spanish, Greek, French, some Latin... eventually we realized I had a gift for languages. And so, here we are."

"Would you teach me?" Marie inquired unexpectedly. "A language, I mean?"

"I don't see why not." Silbhé nodded. "I mean, it won't be easy. It's easier to learn languages when we're children, and it gets harder as we get older, but we could do it, if you really want to."

"I do." Rogue nodded enthusiastically. "I've always wanted to, and I feel like I might be good at it, maybe."

"I'm sure you will." Silbhé assured her. "Which language would you like to learn? I can offer you Spanish, Portuguese, German, French, Irish, Norse, Italian, Greek, Latin... and I'm currently in the process of learning Russian, though that's been slow-coming."

"German." Rogue answered without hesitation.

There was an odd glint in her eyes as she said that, but Silbhé didn't ask about it, Marie would explain it to her when she chose to, or she wouldn't. It was all the same in the end.

xXx Marie's POV xXx

Those who talk about everyone being equal have no idea what they talk about. There's no true equality in the world. Some might focus on the usual: white vs. black, men vs. women, rich vs. poor... yet there is another inequality: human vs. mutant. That was the one that concerned me most, for a very simple reason, I'm a mutant.

I asked myself more than once: when I was human (or at least when I believed I was) did I support mutants? Or at least was I fair to them? I honestly didn't know. I didn't think I ever actually met a mutant before I became one myself...

It wasn't easy, growing up in a place like Meridian, Mississippi. Like most small towns, people were entrenched in their ways, their traditions, their ideologies. They didn't insult mutants or other minorities, but that was probably because they weren't even in their radar. If anyone there was a mutant they kept it completely secret. Until me...

There was a time when I had a life, plans for the future. I was sixteen-years-old, studying high-school, young and so full of dreams... I had a map nailed to my wall, with markings of all the places I was going to travel to, my very own adventure... after high-school, before college, that was what I said whenever someone asked me when I would do it... I never expected the circumstances in which I ended taking that trip.

David was a sweet boy. I suppose he still is. Not the kind I would have chosen to marry; but then again, I wasn't planning on staying in that small town for the rest of my life. I always wanted to travel, see the world... I suppose I ended doing that.

People always talk about the first kiss being magic... mine was a curse. I don't know if that was when my power first activated. Maybe it'd been there before, I just hadn't noticed? Hard as I might try to remember, I cannot be sure when was the last time I kissed my mother, embraced either her or my father, the last time I touched anyone. Was it that same morning? The night before? Even before that?

In any case, it happened. I pretty much sucked the life out of David with a kiss, he ended in a coma for three weeks. I left town the same day he woke up. I simply couldn't stand it. Three whole weeks hearing people whispering behind my back (and then there were the times when they didn't bother whispering, or even doing it behind my back). Everyone knew David's state was my fault, even if no one knew how I'd done it. When I heard Mrs. Lawrence tell my mom that David had finally woken, I knew I had to leave, before someone actually asked him the very important question and he confirmed the obvious: that I had done it, that I wasn't human...

I don't quite know what to think about my mother. She wasn't a bad woman. Nor was my father a bad man, though he was too much a believer of the old ways, stating that big cities were cesspool of sin and depravity, that everything new was a temptation from the devil; and that if things still were as they'd been when he was a kid then the world wouldn't be going to hell... I knew he would never be able to deal with his own daughter being so different, a mutant... He defended me, for those first few weeks, insisting that David's state wasn't my fault. He berated me for having been with him behind closed doors, on my bed, but refused to believe that I could have put him in a coma. I knew differently, and I think, so did my mom.

So I packed everything I could in a rucksack, got dressed in the best clothes I had (from a store, rather than second-hand, they'd been a gift for my last birthday), the quality was better than most thing I owned, and I hoped that meant they would last longer. My mother was waiting for me in the kitchen when I slipped inside, intending to take what food I could find. She'd already packed me some things and was just waiting for me.

My mother knew I was leaving, she'd probably known even before I did. She never even asked me to stay, and that's something that makes me sad; at the same time, she gave me food, and all the money she had (which I knew she'd been saving for years, and which pretty much allowed me to survive the following weeks and months on my own, going from place to place, doing my best to survive). It was likely that no matter how much time may pass, I would never know for sure how I felt about her.

I did know one thing for sure, though. Had known it for a while, though especially since finding myself a new home: I was no longer Anna Marie D'Ancanto, that name had stopped being mine the day I left my parent's home, and Meridian as a whole, like a thief in the night. No, my name was Rogue, a name that answered to the power of my skin, the curse... and maybe, in a corner deep inside, a corner very few people could reach, a part of me was still Marie...

It was actually Logan who made me realize that last part. I know it wasn't his intention, not really, and yet I owe him so much, more than my life (impossible as it might seem). I will never forget that moment, after he found me in his trailer; when, instead of leaving me alone on the snow, he chose to take me with him, and then the questions came:

"...What kind of name is Rogue?" That was what he asked.

"I don't know." I actually shrugged at that. "What kind of name is Wolverine?"

"My name's Logan."

"Marie..."

It was until the name left my mouth that I realized what I'd just done. I also realized that I hadn't fully left the old me in Meridian. Even if I no longer had my parents, my old life, I didn't fully lose myself; deep inside I was still Marie.

Even then, I decided I'd rather most people call me Rogue. That was the name the power in my skin gave me. And that gift/curse I had was all most people saw of me anyway. The same people who, even being mutants themselves, still feared me, gave me a wide berth even when I was covered from neck to toe. Only those who'd been able to see beyond that, to see me, could call me by my birth-name, the name I kept in my heart. There were only two people: Logan and Silbhé, but that was enough.

Logan hadn't stayed long, but I'd known all along that he wouldn't. He'd saved me, and not just because he'd given me his power, allowing me to heal, at risk to his own life; he'd been there for me, when no one else was. He supported me, motivated me, became my anchor when we hadn't known each other for more than a day... it was almost like we were connected, deep inside, our very souls...

He left, but I knew that didn't mean he was leaving me. No, he was just trying to find himself. He'd return one day, I knew that, and not just because he'd left me his tags, promising to return for them; no, he would come back for me, I knew it, it was an instinct...

Silbhé was a whole different case. When I first approached her, as she sat on that stone bench, in the rose patch, she looked so peaceful, and that drew me in. There had been so many people inside the mansion. All the students were in awe about me, about the white streak in my hair and what it represented, and while I'd chosen to keep it, to show it off like a scar, like a symbol of the fact that I'd survived... I still didn't like that it was something else that made everyone talk about me, even as they kept away from me.

So after Logan left I decided I needed some peace and quiet, and decided to take a walk. Bobby tried to approach me, but I couldn't help but feel unsettled by him. I knew it hadn't been him, the one who'd said those words, the ones that made me leave Westchester, making me feel I had to run (and the reason I ended being caught by Magneto and his Brotherhood); still, I couldn't help but think about that whenever I saw him. Also, I knew he was only approaching me as a way of one-upping his friends, proving he was brave because he approached the girl with the poisonous skin... it was absolutely ridiculous! Maybe if things had been differently, if I'd been alone in the wake of Logan's leaving, I'd have gone to him, taken a chance... but as it was I soon had found another friend, one who needed no bets, no childish games to choose to be my friend. I might wonder at times how different things might have been if I'd chosen differently that first day; but I'll never regret the life I've lived.

So I approached her, the beautiful girl in the garden, and in her company I found more than just peace and music. I found a friend, a sister... when she first touched my skin I nearly screamed. It actually took me several seconds to realize nothing was happening, she wasn't weakening, and I wasn't getting anything. It was as if she were completely immune to me... I couldn't quite let go of her for the rest of the afternoon. Human contact, after so long, and a touch that didn't hurt, not me (not like when Magneto touched me) and not anyone else (like with David, and Logan).

I moved into her room the next day. My roommate seemed quite happy about it, she'd never been fully comfortable sharing a room with me. I didn't care what she thought. The first thing I noticed when we finished moving (it took a while as we needed help getting another bed into the room, as it'd been a single, though Silbhé didn't care that she'd no longer have the space to herself, and Dr. Grey was very accommodating, helping us move things around with her telekinesis) was the gray cami and short set, with 'Angel' in dark red letters at the front.

"Are those pajamas?" I couldn't help but ask, confused.

"Consider them a gift." She told me with a smile.

That was all she said, it was all she needed to say, really, a set of pj's consisting of a thin-strapped camisole and short-shorts? It was a reminder of all the freedoms I had while in our room. That room became my sanctuary. While inside I didn't need to have my gloves on, I didn't need to have any more clothes that I wanted to, which meant that while in there I was usually in short-shorts and tops, nothing else.

There were other benefits too. The bedroom was quite big (we each had double beds, instead of the twins most students slept on), we had an en-suite bathroom, our own closet each; we also shared a vanity and there was a small balcony.

The fact that the bedroom was located in the fourth floor of the North Wing (the area where the teachers slept) alienated me a bit, though certainly no more than my skin. I didn't mind, the freedom I found while inside that room meant so much more to me than whether my classmates wanted to hang out with me or not.

Logan might have saved my life, Professor Xavier might have given me a place to live and to study; but it was Silbhé who turned that place into a home...

Even then, it took me two more weeks before I felt confident enough in our friendship, in myself, to reveal what had been bothering me from the very start.

"They're in my head." I blurted out, the whole speech I'd prepared all morning deserting me the moment I was actually sitting beside her in the rose garden.

"What...?!" She obviously wasn't expecting that and didn't quite know what to say.

"They're in my head." I repeated, then, clarified. "Logan and... and Magneto. It's been a month since what happened in that Island and they're still in my head, and no matter how hard I try, they just won't leave!"

"In your head..." Silbhé repeated, seemingly thinking it over. "You mean, what? Their current selves, memories, consciousness? What exactly?"

"I... I think that when they touched me I might have taken more than just their powers from them." I finally admitted, almost under my breath. "Their memories, some of their thoughts. There are even times when I can almost hear them reply to something, like they're inside my head and reacting to the things I say and do..."

"Are they doing that right now?" Silbhé sounded more intrigued than worried for some reason. "And if so, what are they saying?"

"Right now it's less their voices and more impressions. Like the part of Logan that's inside me is telling me to trust you, while the part that is Magneto thinks no one should be trusted, no one other than myself."

"I suppose that's logical, going by what little I know from those men. I suppose it is possible that, being mutants, you took more from them than just a human; that them being different allowed for something more..."

"But why?! I mean, with David, and with those men who got to close and even the one that tried to hurt me before I met Logan, I got their energy, sometimes the murkiness or even the darkness of their thoughts and feelings, but nothing more. Even David, whom I hurt more than anyone else before or after, the sense of him was gone long before he even woke up!" She took a deep breath. "Even when I borrowed Logan's powers that night, when we had that accident in his room, I only had his instincts for a little while. And then the island happened. First Magneto gave me his powers so I could operate the machine, and then Logan gave me his to save my life..."

A glint appeared suddenly in Silbhé's eyes, making them look greener if only for a moment.

"What is it?" I asked her, intrigued.

"I think you do know the difference, or a part of you does at least." She pointed out. "Haven't you noticed it? When you speak about David, and about the first time you got Logan's power, you say you 'took' from them. When you talk about the island, you speak about them 'giving' the powers to you. That's the difference."

"It cannot be that simple, can it?"

"I think it can. I mean, it's like the difference between me stealing something, or even just borrowing without permission, and someone gifting that same thing to me. The first... it will always go back, sooner or later, the second..."

"So what...? You think I'll be keeping their powers for good now?"

"I don't know... I thought we were talking about thoughts and impressions here..."

I took a deep breath, it was the part I hadn't mentioned yet, though it was probably quite obvious already, so I extended a hand to her. A second later the stone traversal flute was floating right between both of us. It wobbled a bit, and it took considerable effort, but I managed to hold it up until Silbhé pushed her shock down enough to snatch the instrument from the air.

"So I guess that answers that question." She said with a light shrug.

I said nothing, waiting for her to say something else, anything else, yet she didn't.

"Is that all?" I asked, voice a bit sharper than I originally intended.

"What do you want me to say?" She asked me, seemingly waiting to see what I would do next.

"Aren't you afraid of me?!" I snapped, I tried to keep my temper in check, yet with Wolverine bristling inside my head and Magneto feeding my own paranoia, it was hard. "I have the powers of a terrorist, and his voice whispering in the back of my mind!"

"Whatever powers you might be able to wield, whatever voices might whisper in the back of your head, I believe you're still yourself Marie. And..." She hesitated for what seemed like a long while, though it couldn't have been more than a handful of seconds. "I don't think the Magneto in your head would push you into doing anything nefarious anyway."

"What makes you so sure?" I knew I was missing something, something big, but I had no idea what it could possibly be.

It took almost a full minute for her to answer, I could see Silbhé opening and closing her mouth several times, her expression shifting as she tried to find the right words to say... something. I had no idea what was running through her mind in that moment, though an instinct told me it was important, very much so. Still, when her next words came, and the consequences they had, nothing could have ever prepared me for any of it.

"Telepathy is not as much of a one way street as most people would believe, you know?" She blurted in what seemed like a complete non-sequitur.

"What do you mean?" I didn't understand.

"I already explained to you about my sealed memories." She elaborated. "All we know about them, we do because I had a number of sessions with Professor Xavier. He went into my mind and examined my memories in detail. Compared the things I'd mostly forgotten during the years the cancer kept making me sick from the time I was four and until I was nine, to the memories that were locked, starting when I was eleven... it took several sessions to realize all those memories were still there, that I didn't forget them, didn't block myself, and that it was a different energy keeping them under lock and key..." She took a deep breath, before finally throwing the bomb. "What most people don't realize, is how deep into my mind Charles needed to go to see all that, to understand it. And that going that deep inside... it didn't just affect me. Some of his own memories, the strongest, slipped through the connection, from his mind into mine."

"You've seen the Professor's memories?!" I wasn't expecting that.

"A few, not many. No one but him knows, and I think even he doesn't realize how much I really understood from those few memories... I don't know if the intensity was part of the original memory, a consequence of the time that's passed since, or if I'm empathic somehow as well... but I could feel everything, deep inside. I'm sure you have too..."

"Cuba..." I didn't even need her to say it, I knew. "You're talking about what happened in that beach, in Cuba, in 1962..."

"I know what Magneto did to you." She said for all answer. "But do you think that Erik would ever push you to do anything that might hurt you, that might hurt Charles?"

The answer was no, and we both knew it; yet she seemed to be forgetting a very important detail:

"He's not Erik anymore..." I began.

"I think he still is." She interrupted me quietly. "He may have forgotten for a little while, but deep down Magneto is still Erik Lehnsherr; just like the Professor is still Charles Xavier... They just need to be reminded of that fact."

I didn't need her to tell me who it was that would be doing the reminding, that part was obvious enough; though I still had no idea how we were supposed to achieve that.

xXx 3rd Person POV xXx

It was another month after the brutally sincere talk between the two dear friends before they decided to go see Professor Xavier. Silbhé arranged for a meeting. It was easy, the Professor spent a lot of time in the fringes of the hazel-eyed girl's mind, for a variety of reasons. The most important ones was that, while not totally silent, Silbhé's mind was different enough from the majority of them (of human and mutant both) that Charles Xavier found a degree of solace in it; also, she was one of few who didn't seem to mind if he read her. Most of the people he knew, even mutants, even those who'd known him for years, seemed to feel somewhat uncomfortable if they knew he was reading their minds, if he happened to reply to a question they hadn't asked... the way Silbhé saw it, reading minds was part of Charles's nature, and who was she to try to deny him a part of himself?

"Silbhé..." The telepath received the youngest of his teachers, before turning his eyes to the other girl to step inside. "Rogue..."

"You may call me Marie if you wish, Professor." The brunette told him kindly.

"Of course Marie." The Headmaster smiled, taking the words as the offer of friendship they were. "Be welcome, both of you. Take a seat. Now, how can I help you?"

For all answer Rogue pulled off one of her gloves, before very slowly and purposefully placing her hand over Silbhé's own.

"You're aware that I can touch Silbhé without hurting her." Marie said, it wasn't a question.

"Yes." The telepath had seen it in Silbhé's mind.

He didn't exactly spy on her, though there were things that were just important enough to her that he couldn't help but know. They were both aware of that. Charles had known that the two girls had formed a tight bond, the dearest of friends; he'd also picked up on the fact that they could touch without anyone being hurt, which was why the request to have Rogue move into Silbhé's room hadn't surprised him, even though others couldn't understand it. He also knew that couldn't be all they were there to tell him, so he waited...

"I... I don't know how to explain..." Marie admitted after almost a full minute in silence.

"Would you rather show me?" The professor offered.

He was prepared for a refusal, he knew how self-conscious teenagers could be. What he wasn't expecting though, was Marie's acquiescence, or the fact that she took his offer in a different way than the one he'd meant. Before the telepath had a chance to touch the young mutant's mind, he suddenly saw the elegant 'X' shaped sculpture, which he sometimes used as a paper-weight, floating several inches above his desk. It was made of stainless steel... it'd also been shaped by none other than Erik Lehnsherr in the Fall of 1962, before so much went wrong... Even then it took him a handful of seconds before he fully realized the implications.

"This isn't you?" He asked Silbhé, just to be sure, though he already knew the answer.

"No." Silbhé answered, knowing exactly why he asked.

The Professor turned to face Marie then.

"You still have his power." Was all he seemed to be able to say.

"I still have his power." Marie confirmed. "And not just his, Logan's too."

They weren't going to show him the proof of that, though they had, in fact, tested it themselves. She didn't heal as fast as Wolverine did, not even as fast as she herself had, right after he'd given her his power; but Silbhé had a feeling that wasn't because her version of the power was weak, but rather because it was still developing inside her.

"It's been two months, and you still have their powers." The Professor stated, as if trying to convince himself of the truth of his statement by saying it out-loud.

"They're growing." Rogue revealed. "Two weeks ago I could barely raise small things, had a problem holding object with lesser magnetic properties, like platinum and the like, for more than a handful of seconds. But I'm improving every day. The same with Logan's abilities... well, the healing thus far. I haven't developed any claws... not yet at least."

She wasn't sure how she felt about that, if she was afraid at the prospect, or anything at all; she guessed all she could do was wait.

"I think... it's like someone who receives a piece of a liver in a donation, or someone who has a piece of theirs taken..." Silbhé began practically babbling, nervous at the silence that Marie's declaration had left. "Just like the liver regenerates... it's like the piece of power that Magneto and Wolverine gave her that day in Ellis Island is growing rather than disappearing. She's made their mutations her own..."

"That's why you waited to come to me with this." Charles realized. "You were making sure they weren't disappearing."

The two girls nodded.

"Well, you seem to have a good idea of how things are working." The Professor stated. "I'm afraid I don't know of anyone who might have had such a mutation before. I mean, there have been those who can imitate others; Mirrors, they are called, or mimics, depending on the nature of their power, and how perfect they can be. However, I'd never heard of anyone who could make the gifts of others, their own..." He took a deep breath. "So, how can I help you then?"

"We have a theory." Marie explained. "We think that there's a difference, between when I take powers, steal or borrow them; and when they're given to me. In the first case, I can use them for a little while, and I don't get to keep them. In the second... well, you've seen."

"Of course, E... Magneto gave you his power in Ellis Island, and then Wolverine as well." Xavier was easily able to follow the girl's logic. "And the other part...?"

"We've tested it." Silbhé admitted, somewhat sheepishly.

"We knew St. John and Bobby were doing some dares, along with some of the other boys, to see who was willing to touch my skin, and who might last longest." Marie admitted, not the slightest bit ashamed. "I took advantage of that to take some of their powers. I didn't hurt anybody. Their powers never lasted more than a few minutes, half an hour at most."

"I see..." The Professor nodded. "While I cannot condone taking risks with your powers, I realize no one was hurt. I still do not see how I might be able to help you."

"Well, we still haven't fully tested the other side of the theory." Rogue explained, suddenly shy. "We think that I still have those powers because they gave them to me, but we don't know for sure. Who knows? Maybe it was the trauma, or that I held on too long...? And I feel like I need to know, I need to understand the full-scope of my power if I am to be able to use it to its full potential..."

"We came to you because... well, we didn't quite to whom else to go." Silbhé admitted. "We know the way most people look at Rogue, what they think about her skin. And that's just at the possibility that she could take their powers for a little while... What will they do if they learn that she can copy their abilities permanently?"

"So you want me to help you test your theory?" Xavier went straight to the point.

"Only if you're willing, Professor." Marie told him immediately.

"I hope you realize, Marie, that being a telepath isn't easy." Charles pointed out, much more solemnly than either of them would have expected. "Even if you're able to turn it on and off at will, unlike myself. If your theory is right, you will have this potential for the rest of your life... you might come to regret it. Once you... know some things, you cannot un-know them."

"I realize that professor." Marie nodded, taking his words to heart. "I just... I need to know."

"Very well." Xavier nodded. "How shall we do this?"

For all answer Rogue extended her ungloved hand over the desk separating it, holding it there for the Professor to take at his leisure.

Charles Xavier, geneticist, Headmaster of the Xavier Institute for Gifted Youngsters, and arguably the most powerful telepath in the world, knew that the moment he touched Mar... no, Rogue, her power was Rogue... he knew that the moment he touched Rogue's hand, things would change. He just had no idea how much.

It was until a fraction of a second before contact that Marie realized there was one little detail they'd forgotten to tell Professor Xavier about. But by then it was too late. Their hands touched, and everything that made Charles Francis Xavier who he was, became part of Marie, of Rogue...

xXx

There's so much fear, thick and heavy like noxious fumes. There's at least a hundred missiles in the air, approaching the beach, approaching them so fast, and there's nothing that can be done, nowhere to run, nowhere to hide... and then he steps forward, body straight and strong, he raises a hand and... everything changes, and at the same time nothing does. The fear is still there, in some ways even thicker than before, except that it's not longer Them that are afraid, but the Others... because the missiles didn't just stop before hitting the beach, they actually turned around in the air, and they're being guided, straight to the ships they came from, to the Soviet and American navies... the humans.

"Erik, you said it yourself, we're the better men. This is the time to prove it. There are thousands of men on those ships. Good, honest, innocent men! They're just following orders." It's only after the words are out of his mouth that he realizes how wrong they are, he couldn't possibly have said a worst thing!

"I've been at the mercy of men just following orders. Never again!"

The nuclear missiles are flying straight at the ships, words fail him and, not knowing what else to do, he throws himself straight at him, his friend, his... they end up on the sand, tussling, fighting, each trying their best to subdue the other. Words are said, yelled, but neither of them is paying any attention to them, not really, each completely focused on their own goal: one, paying back the humans for their betrayal, the other, saving those he still believes to be innocent.

A punch, and he's almost knocked out, at least dizzy enough that it takes him a while to be able to fully focus again. He vaguely hears discharges, is someone firing a gun? But who? Why? He tries to stand, and that's when everything goes wrong all over again. The pain comes so fast, and almost as fast it's gone. He's down again, unable to move, and he doesn't know why... and then he's there, but he's not. And it's all so strange...

There are apologies, and cries of distress from the children standing nearby, unable to approach because he's suddenly chosen to be all overprotective... his mind is brought abruptly back to the present as he hears her cry. She's choking, dying.

"You! You did this!"

He looks up to see his friend, hand extended in her direction, he's choking her with her dog-tags. He wants to make her pay for firing that gun, those bullets, the ones he deflected...

"Please!" His voice is too loud, but it's so confusing, seeing him yet not being able to truly feel him, it's almost like his eyes have been gouged out. "She didn't do this, Erik." She may have taken the shot, but she wasn't shooting at him. "You did."

It's not like he wishes the bullets had found their mark, in the end, it's only an accident. He knows that, wants to say it, but it's all so confusing, he cannot focus.

"Us turning on each other, it's what they want." He says, there's so much feeling in his gaze as he says those words, feelings impossible to truly read. "I tried to warn you Charles. I want you by my side, we're brothers, you and I." They're so much more, things for which there are no proper words. "All of us, together, protecting each other. We want the same thing."

Do they? And what is that same thing they want? Peace? But Peace was never an option? War? It'd destroy them? Love...?

"Oh my friend, I'm sorry... but we do not."

Events go on, but it's suddenly as if it's all a dream, the worst kind of nightmare, where you know things are wrong, and they're only going to get worse, and yet there's nothing that can be done to change it. Because it's all said and done already, and while they hold onto each other as long as they can, in the end they know they must let go. Whatever may happen in the future, truth they've both lost already...

Two pairs of eyes, one forest-green, the other ever-changing hazel snapped open in unison, cries drowned in throats even as the two young women panted in unison. The hand of one of them went to her back, the other's to her head, each looking for something that wasn't really there (a scar, a helmet) that had never been. It took them almost a full minute to fully process what they'd just seen, experienced, and by the time they did they were both crying...

"Oh my god..." The brunette, green-eyed, sixteen-year-old Marie is the first to be able to speak, and even then her words are barely understandable with the sobbing she's still doing.

"I knew... intellectually... I knew things had gone horribly wrong... in that spirits-forsaken beach but..." The auburn-haired, hazel-eyed, eighteen-year-old Silbhé babbled as she pressed a palm against her forehead, trying against all hope to clear her head from the heart-wrenching tragedy she'd just witnessed (and pretty much experienced) moments ago. "I thought I knew but..." She felt like she might be sick. "Oh spirits!"

"We need to talk to the Professor." Marie was the first to manage to string a coherent thought.

"What...?" Silbhé had trouble following her logic.

Marie might have been younger, but thanks to her own power she'd managed to adapt to the intricacies of being a telepath; which probably allowed her to recover from the mess of the dream/vision/memory they'd just shared faster than Silbhé.

"Things went so wrong all those years ago... but we know it wasn't their fault, of either of them." Marie pointed out.

"Yeah." Silbhé agreed with that one wholeheartedly.

"We know, but they don't." Marie explained.

Silbhé understood it then. They'd made mistakes, but didn't fully realize it, they didn't because they each only had one half of it, of the events, the feelings, the thoughts. Marie had it all, and through her, so did Silbhé. They knew, understood, in a way no one else did.

"We need to go see the Professor." The older girl agreed.

xXx

It didn't occur to them just how early it was, even as they slipped robes over their sleeping clothes and slippers on their feet; not until they were standing right outside Professor Xavier's study, and could see the man approaching them, moving his wheelchair slowly in their direction.

"Oh..." Silbhé breathed out. "It's not dawn yet."

"We're so sorry professor, we hadn't realized the time." Marie added.

"That's quite alright girls." He assured them softly. "I was already up, and it feels like you have something important to share."

"We do." Silbhé nodded solemnly. "Though I think this exchange should happen in private."

"Of course," He agreed immediately. "Lets go inside."

It took very little effort for Marie to tap into Magneto's powers to open the door to the study, letting Charles lead the way... the Professor, the dream/vision/memory made them think of him as Charles rather than just the Professor.

"Very well girls, you have my full attention." He told them.

Marie and Silbhé turned to look at each other for a handful of seconds; no words were said, not even mentally, before the younger of the two turned to face the telepath.

"First of all." Marie hesitated, unsure of herself, of her words, but pushed through. "There's something we... I... something I didn't tell you. When I touch people... I don't just get their energies and powers... I also get other things. Like their thoughts, impressions, feelings... their strongest memories."

Charles was speechless, all he could do was stare at the sixteen-year-old before him. He'd a feeling he knew where she was going with her speech, at least to a point... still, he waited.

"I've seen your memories." Rogue admitted quietly. "Of Cuba... that beach... that awful day in 1962... I've seen your memories of it and... and I've also seen his..."

"His...?" The telepath knew what she meant, but he just needed to hear her say it anyway.

"Erik's." Rogue confirmed.

And the mere fact that she was calling him Erik, rather than Magneto, was telling, in more ways than most people would realize.

Charles could feel the tears gathering in his eyes, at the memory of that awful day, at the evident distress those memories had caused, not just in Marie but also in Silbhé. And yet there was more, there had to be, and he needed to know.

"I need you to read my mind." Marie blurted out suddenly. "I need... there are things you need to see, that you need to understand. Things that happened that day that you don't know..."

"I remember that day with perfect clarity Rogue..." Xavier's voice sounded a bit rough as he admitted that.

"Yes, but those are your memories." She reminded him. "There are things you don't know..."

He understood it then. She wanted him to see, not his own memories, but Erik's. She believed there was something there he didn't know, something important; and while Charles couldn't fathom what that could possibly be, he just loved Erik so much, always had, always would, and he knew he'd never ignore a chance to see, to know a little more of the man that has been his dearest friend, who could have been more if only the world hadn't been so against it, so against them from the very beginning.

Neither of the people in the room fully realized it, but as the contact was made, it was actually less the Professor reading Rogue's mind, and more Marie pushing the memories at him. And then all three of them were swallowed by it all.

A thirty-year-old Charles stepped out of the wreckage of the first Blackbird and into the Cuban beach slowly. He was swaying a bit, his head still half-lost in the phantom pain caused by the German coin Erik had put through Shaw's neck. His throat was still raw from the screams he'd been unable to hold back. Moira, even as she followed after him, looking around nervously, she kept a worried eye on him. She didn't know what had happened, but she'd heard him scream and knew it couldn't be anything good.

Erik emerged from the remains of the submarine right then, looking imposing as he floated down to the sand, carrying the corpse of Sebastian Shaw (Klaus Schmidt) before eventually letting him fall before the members of the Hellfire Club; who stood there, watching from one side, while his and Charles's students stood on the opposite.

There had been fights, and the students had won; but victory hadn't been definite until right then, until the moment everyone realized that Shaw was dead. It was over, they'd won... except it wasn't over just yet.

"Today our fighting stops!" Erik called, full of conviction. "Take off your blinders brothers and sisters. The real enemy is out there. I feel their guns, moving in the water. Their metal targeting us. Americans, Soviets, humans. United in their fear of the unknown. The Neanderthal is running scared, my fellow mutants!" He turned to face Charles, who'd gone to stand just a few feet from him at some point. "Go ahead Charles, tell me I'm wrong."

Charles wanted to, how he wanted... it'd actually taken him a few seconds to gather his wits and focus his telepathy properly, and by then there was nothing he could. Even at his best he'd have been hard pressed to manipulate that many minds, to keep all their weapons from being fired... in his condition it was simply impossible. And then there was no denying it, not with the missiles in the air and going straight for the beach... Moira had gone back to the radio to try and stop the disaster from happening, but even before she'd moved Charles had known it was already too late. Their decision... the humans' decision had been made, it was the mutants' turn:

When the missiles first stopped in mid-air, Charles had a moment to feel elation, absolute elation at what he's witnessing filled him. He always knew Erik had great potential, yet hadn't expected to witness it, and in such a way... and then the missiles began turning around...

"Erik, you said it yourself, we're the better men. This is the time to prove it." He tried to find the words, the right ones, to make Erik rethink his actions; instead he ended saying the worst thing he could possibly have. "There are thousands of men on those ships. Good, honest, innocent men! They're just following orders."

"I've been at the mercy of men just following orders. Never again!"

After those words Erik's response was probably to be expected; also his nonverbal reaction, as the missiles shoot faster in the direction of the navies, the humans.

Years later, and even with hindsight on his side, Charles will wonder how things went so wrong on that beach. Was it the coin through his (Shaw's) brain? The helmet blocking him from one of the brightest minds he'd ever known? The fear felt by everyone around him? Even years later he just didn't know for sure... maybe he didn't want to. Perhaps he was just too afraid to realize that it might have been his fault after all.

However, in that moment it was different, as the vision gave the older Charles, gave all of them, something that even near 40 years of time and perspective never could have: the other side of things, Erik's side.

Erik's mind was always a minefield at the best of times, and yet that was just the outer-layer. A darkness and violence the mutant seemed to keep with him, to wrap himself in as a shield, for both his mind, but more importantly his heart. Charles had begun chipping away at it almost from the start. He'd known it, in the moments during their road-trip, in between recruitment, when Erik had ever so slowly begun opening up to him... in the moment they'd shared on that terrace, just before Erik found his place between Rage and Serenity, when they'd both shed tears at the most beautiful, most cherished memory of Erik's past...

Charles had been so hopeful in that moment, so in love... and then the president's address, the chess game they never finished, the conversation that went so wrong... maybe if he'd tried harder, if he'd explained to Erik that he didn't intend to stop him from killing Shaw. That he was afraid... not of Erik, but for him, at the prospect of something happening to the other mutant, that they might lose each other, either to Shaw, his minions, of Erik's own rage...

In that moment there was no rage in Erik's mind, though. He might have expressed such feeling regarding humans, but what he felt in that moment wasn't really anger, it was fear, it was blind panic... The image of his mother in the center of his mind, trembling and in dark-clothes, as she'd been the last time Erik laid eyes on her, seconds before he failed to move a coin and Herr Doktor Schmidt had put a bullet between her eyes. Only it was no longer his mother that he saw; his mind was conjuring other terrors: Charles, Raven, every single one of the children, those with them and those too young to join the fight, who would one day, hopefully, be their students... Erik could imagine each of them in his mother's place, falling victim to another's hate. To a bullet... or to a missile...

Those images kept spinning in his head, like a broken record, as he fought Charles, who was so desperately trying to stop him from achieving his goal. Blind to Charles's own fears: the start of a war they could never win (because they're so few still, so untrained, they're just not ready to make a stand yet...); and then there was a more personal fear, what so many deaths might do to him, especially when the phantom pains from Shaw were making it next to impossible to shield, or to focus.

Erik knew he was losing Charles, as they fought, as he kept doing his best to eliminate the humans; but he'd already decided he'd rather his dear friend, his only friend, hate him and live; than risk the chance of him dying, of all the children dying as well...

Charles kept fighting, reaching for the helmet on Erik's head, Shaw's helmet, whenever he got the chance. He wasn't actually sure if he wanted the helmet to come off. Would he just try to talk to Erik, to convince him? Or would he decide the risk was too great and simply turn his powers on Erik? He was so out of it there was no way of knowing for sure what he'd have done.

A punch. Hard enough to make Charles stop. Stop moving, stop fighting. Erik took advantage of the opportunity, leaving Charles on the ground and rising to his feet, turning all his focus on the missiles. He'd lost a few, but most could be guided back to their paths easily enough.

Then came the bullets. The first shot ricocheted off his helmet, and Erik probably would never know if Moira was truly that bad of a shot (though it didn't seem likely, he'd seen her practice while in Westchester) or if all along she'd intended the shots to be nothing more than a way to take his mind off the missiles. With the element of surprise gone it was easy enough for him to deflect the bullets as they came. They each hit the sand at his feet until one...

Even with all the perspective in the universe it would probably be impossible to tell why he chose to deflect that particular bullet in a different direction that the other ones... just like it would be impossible to know for sure what made Charles decide it was a good idea to get up in that exact moment. Maybe he'd been intending to stop Moira, to try his hand at stopping Erik, again... maybe even he hadn't known, and was just following instinct, like everyone else.

Three things were certain though: Moira took another shot, Erik deflected the bullet, and it hit Charles's spine.

Charles's memories of the following minutes were at the same time devoid of any sound, probably a side-effect of the trauma of his phantom headache, the bullet to the back, compounded by the way his wounded mind kept reaching for his other half, hitting a mirror, a dark cold mirror that almost hurt more than everything else put together.

Erik's side of those minutes was another matter entirely, the mix of horror, guilt, grief... the moment when the missiles fell, some sinking into the sea, others exploding in the air; it wasn't because he'd chosen to let them fall, Erik had simply forgotten about them. They'd ceased being important the moment he heard Charles's cry; the moment the telepath hit the sand nothing else mattered anymore.

Erik apologized over and over again, but Charles wasn't listening, he was too lost in the pain, in all the forms it took in that moment and then...

"You! You did this!"

A weak cry, more like a whine left Moira's mouth as the dog-tags tightened around her neck, the moment Erik turned his powers on her, blaming her for the bullet that had pierced Charles's back. He'd already taken it out, but there was just no way of knowing how much damage it'd already done; Erik's deflection had only added to its speed and energy, making it go through the suit Hank had designed...

When Charles spoke, his memories had him almost screaming, though reality was quite different, his voice had been so quiet the words could barely be heard.

"Please!" He hurt, so very much. "She didn't do this, Erik." He kept trying to touch his friend's mind, but he just couldn't and that hurt, more than his back, more than his head, it hurt him deep inside, heart and soul. "You did."

Erik didn't know what was going through Charles's mind; he was so immersed in his own guilt and horror and grief, he completely forgot about the helmet still on his head. All he heard were the words Charles had managed to say out-loud, and the meaning they took in his own brain was entirely different. His friend, his... Charles, blaming him...

Erik finally let go of Moira, who dropped to the sound, gasping. Instead the blue-green eyed mutant turned his whole attention to the blue-eyed one in his arms.

"Us turning on each other, it's what they want." He said, his eyes filled with so much feeling he just cannot properly put them into words. "I tried to warn you Charles. I want you by my side, we're brothers, you and I." They were more than friends, more than brothers, and could be even more still, if only they had the chance... "All of us, together, protecting each other. We want the same thing."

The same words were in both of their heads, silent screams neither of them could hear: I WANT YOU... I NEED YOU... I LOVE YOU... PLEASE...

Charles didn't know, he was deaf and blind, and Erik didn't realize it, then it was too late:

"Oh my friend, I'm sorry... but we do not."

It was the end, an end they'd both been fearing from the very start... and yet, even knowing it was over, they continued holding onto each other for a second, an eternity...

The vision/mixed memory broke, almost shattered like so much glass, right as the young Erik finally let go of the young Charles, as the older Professor X pulled away from the psychic contact, allowing the two girls to return to reality as well.

"Oh Erik..." He breathed out, tears falling down his face.

Charles Xavier was crying, like he hadn't cried since the day he'd given up on his last hopes for Erik, for himself, for what they could have been... except, maybe he'd given up too soon. It took a while, but eventually the Professor managed to compose himself enough to remember he wasn't alone in his eyes, and he turned his eyes to the two young women sitting on the other side of his desk. Neither spoke at first, but he could see it in their eyes, the revelation of that memory was just the start. Silbhé and Marie had a plan, and it was going to change everything...

xXx Silbhé's POV xXx

It seemed almost providential, it was Saturday. Few people knew it but every Saturday afternoon, Professor Xavier visited Erik Lehnsherr in the plastic prison that had been built just for him. I was the one who drove him there, who waited for him just outside the cell for an hour, and then drove him back to Westchester. The reason? No one else understood why the Professor refused to give up on 'Magneto', why he still called the other man Erik, called him friend.

I would be the first to admit I didn't know, didn't understand everything; but one thing was clear to me: Charles Xavier would never give up on Erik Lehnsherr. There was also the fact that he deserved to have someone support him, even if that someone didn't fully understand the reasons; and I was quite willing to be that someone; how could I not, after everything the Professor had done for me? He'd given me a job, a home; if it weren't for him I would have never met Marie, my friend, my sister...

The three of us had sat in his office for most of the morning, discussing the implications of what had been revealed in the mixed memory that had formed when the piece of Magneto and the piece of the Professor inside Rogue had combined.

Even as she helped us make plans, Marie had admitted she just wasn't ready to forgive Magneto for what he'd done to her. She was confident she would one day. Knowing what she did about him, about his past, and then after having gained the Professor's perspective over most of those things; it'd allowed her to see beyond what Magneto had done to her, to see through the facade the leader of the Brotherhood put up, and to the man Charles Xavier had first met off a beach in LA, the man who'd helped create the first generation of X-Men, the man who'd been (and still was) Charles's whole world (as much as Charles was his).

We arrived to the federal prison soon enough. If the guards were surprised when I stayed by Charles's (my uncle, according to the 'fixed' records we used to justify my presence there) side instead of going to sit on a side as usual, no one said anything. Charles looked at me briefly as the officers frisked me, though still he didn't say word; he'd said all that needed to be said in the car:

"Are you sure this is a good idea?" He asked, not for the first time since we'd left the study.

"Really Charles..." It'd been a sort-of wordless agreement, Marie and I could call him by his given name as long as we weren't dealing with school-business or in the presence of the rest of the faculty. "Just how many times are you planning on asking the same question? Are you waiting for me to say no?"

He didn't answer me, but I strongly suspected that was the case. What we were doing (or about to do), Charles wanted it so much, had wanted it for so long, that the mere fact that it was finally happening, terrified him. He'd allowed fear to hold him back for almost five decades, and it seemed like he didn't quite know what to do when it was finally happening. His insecurities were so great, he needed reassurance (which was absolutely ridiculous, he was the teacher, the mentor, as well as much older and more experienced than me, or Marie!)

"I'm afraid that if you're looking for someone to tell you you're insane, hopeless and naïve... well, it's not like you actually need anyone to say it." I half-smiled at him at that, before going on. "Still, if you're looking for someone to tell you to force you or something, to try and make you change your mind, you're looking at the wrong girl, professor."

"And why is that?" He asked, intrigued at my choice of words.

"Because if I had the kind of love you do..." I let out a sigh. "If someone looked at me, and loved me, like Erik Lehnsherr loves you, like you love him... I would never give that up. And I wouldn't let anything or anyone in this world, or any other, stand in my way."

It was insane, I knew that. Erik Lehnsherr was no innocent, all the opposite in fact, Charles's polar opposite. The telepath was so endlessly positive, almost hopelessly so; and Erik... he was a realist to the core, as well as somewhat pessimistic. His hands were drenched in so much blood... But that didn't matter, because those two still loved each other; they had almost from the moment they'd first laid eyes on each other, surrounded by wild, dark waves...

I returned to the present as one of the guards pointed at the object I kept in the inner-pocket of my denim jacket. I pulled it out, revealing my dizi.

"You cannot take that into the cell, miss." He told me gruffly.

"Please," I scoffed, adopting a somewhat arrogant demeanor. "I'm perfectly aware that it is forbidden to take anything metal, particularly anything magnetic into that cell. Do you take me for a fool? This flute is made of stone, not metal. Also, I'll have you know jade has no magnetic properties whatsoever."

Something in either my words or my attitude convinced them... either that or they simply didn't care enough, they allowed me through, instrument still in hand.

I was pushing Charles (in the plastic chair specially design for those visits) down the collapsible passage that was the only way into the plastic cell, when I heard him speak, directly into my mind, voice half-curious, half-confused.

*You just lied to those men?* It probably wasn't meant to be a question, but he was confused enough to make it sound like it.

*No, I didn't actually lie.* I told him with absolute sincerity and a mental shrug. *Jade really has no magnetic properties at all.*

He didn't reply, probably waiting for the punch-line. I couldn't help it, I smiled (though I did my best to do so inwardly).

*This dizi is made of black jade.* I clarified. *Which, as it happens, has that color and name because of all the 'impurities' it has; the most important of which happens to be iron...*

He got it then, the ghost of a smile appearing in his own face.

While Rogue, due to the nature of her own powers, was capable of turning what powers she gained from others on and off, depending on what piece she focused on (which wasn't always true for the original mutants), she had enough of the abilities to be able to understand how they worked. Like the fact that Charles's telepathy focused on connecting, which made shielding thoughts harder than listening to them; and then there was Erik, who could always sense metal, the magnetism, even when he wasn't manipulating it. And then there was the tiny little detail: that the lack of magnetic metals hurt him as much as the void of the helmet did Charles...

Even if Marie wasn't ready to forgive Magneto for what he'd done to her, she didn't want him to suffer needlessly.

The original plan had been the earrings. I knew that my powers were strong enough to allow me to make them invisible and float them over the metal detectors; however, the metal they were made us wasn't very magnetic, and I feared it might only make things worse; allowing Erik to feel something, but not enough to truly help him. The dizi was the best option then, especially because, as had been proven, I had no trouble bluffing my way into the cell with it.

Erik Lehnsherr's eyes went directly to the Chinese flute the moment we stepped into his cell. Charles somehow managed to wordlessly convince him not to say a word about it. Instead the two of them went to their table, where the chessboard awaited them; while I waved at him briefly before taking a seat in a corner and beginning to play a melody on the flute.

Erik didn't know it, but with each note I was waving an illusion. It was a relatively simple one, thought extensive at the same time: two old friends sitting on opposite sides of a glass table, playing chess; while the niece played the traversal flute for them from a corner of the little room/cell. The need for such illusion wasn't immediately obvious, not until Charles waved his own fingers around, signaling to his friend the wish to have a telepathic exchange. I was connected enough to the Professor to know when their two minds touched, though not enough to actually get sucked into the exchange; not like I needed to, I knew exactly what they were seeing, the same thing Marie had showed us earlier. I also knew the exact moment the two men were finished, back in the 'real' world.

"Oh Charles..." That was all Erik said, at least out-loud, and even that was enough to express a thousand things: thoughts, regrets, love...

The surprise came when the master of magnetism turned in my direction, pulling at the flute in my hands very slightly; not enough to damage it any, or even to truly interrupt my performance.

"Thank you, Miss Canary..." He stated solemnly.

A nudge at Charles convinced him to connect our minds; not enough to allow me to read Erik's, just enough so he might pick up on the thoughts I sent (I couldn't exactly stop playing in that moment, had to hold the illusion, and for some reason music made such things easier...).

*You may call me Silbhé, if you wish.* I offered to him. *All my friends do.*

I didn't need Charles's telepathy to sense his reaction to my offer, to the word 'friend'. I knew why, Marie had shared that with me too, the fact that, in all his life, Charles Xavier had been Erik Lehnsherr's first friend; and even after almost five decades, there were less than a handful of people that he counted as friends.

*Very well, Miss Silbhé.* He bowed his head in my direction. *As I'm sure you're aware, my name is Erik.*

*It's a pleasure to meet you, Erik.* I smiled at him.

I might not have liked Magneto much, or some of the things he'd done; but I did like Erik, and felt privileged by the opportunity to become one of his friends... who knew? Maybe, with time, all the wrongs for the past forty-some years could be set right.

The man's attention returned to his oldest friend then and the two settled to play a game of chess, while mentally conversing about everything that had remained inconclusive for so long. I allowed the illusion to drop slowly, knowing there was no need for it anymore (which was a good thing, as I wasn't sure I would have been able to hold it for much longer, at least not without calling unnecessary attention onto myself). I didn't stop playing though, weaving a new melody, a new composition. It seemed right, in ways I couldn't explain with words, a new chapter in my life was beginning, and with it new melodies: first Marie's, and then Charles and Erik's. Hopefully one day I would have many more...


So many feels! I'm a firm believer in soulmates... and in this particular fandom I honestly believe in the pairings I portray, especially the Cherik. There's just something about them that calls to me.

Now, just so you know, this shall be the last AU of this set. Meaning that once I'm done here we'll be heading back to the main timeline and my take on Captain America and the AoS tv show.

As always, full-sized poster and set of wallpapers are on DeviantArt.

Please don't forget to comment! Suggestions are always welcome.