Joe Donivan stared at the candle he'd lit for his only niece. He had exhausted every contact in his arsenal looking for her after she'd escaped from Cuxhaven, four months earlier. But after he'd gained a copy of the surveillance video from the White House attack two days ago...he knew he could stop looking.

Never a religious man, Joe didn't have any prayers or offerings to give. He simply sat down heavily in the pew and rested his head wearily on his folded hands. He hadn't set foot in this church or any other since Rachel's christening. And, he doubted he would ever set foot in one again. There was no God. No benevolent Being would have allowed his niece to die at the hands of creature like that.

How could he have been so wrong about Kurt Wagner? Joe had always prided himself on his ability to judge character, mutant and human alike. How could Rachel's husband who had sat with him in that tiny airport in Cuxhaven, be the same monster who had very nearly killed the president...and obviously Rachel. She had to be dead. If she were still alive, she would contacted him by now. He was the one she'd always turned to when she was in trouble.

But, it felt right to be here now. It was the only closure he could get. The only way he had of saying good bye.

A few parishioners milled about here and there, but something caused him to lift his head as he heard the shuffle of reverent foot steps coming down the aisle. He turned back to see an old woman with her head covered demurely. On one side of her, was a young woman with red, tear stained eyes. On the other was a man with dark hair and a look of heart rending pain etched on his face. The old woman looked at him intently as she approached. With a sudden flash of recognition, he stood up.

"Joseph." Came the teary greeting, accented even more heavily by the anguish it held.

Joe reached out and hugged her tightly. "Luminitsa." He almost choked on her name as he held the frail old woman. On either side of them, Jemaine and Stephan joined them as the foursome stood embracing each other and their mutual grief. He didn't even question what had led her half way around the world or how she knew he would be here in this church. He just found comfort in knowing he no longer had to bear his loss alone.

--

Kurt's eyes were sheepish as he stood in front of the Jean Gray. "I didn't mean to snoop." How many times had he stood in front of an irritated Lumi that same way? As many times as Jemaine had talked him into using his abilities for some kind of mischief. He could still remember the way she'd stand with her hands on her hips, lecturing the two of them. Sometimes the three of them if her niece was visiting. They were always thick as thieves, the three of them.

"Just try and relax." Jean replied as she reached out to him, resting her hands on either side of his head. His pleasant childhood memories were swept away by a raging sea of horrific images; each one worse than the last. He could hear tortured cries in his native language that could only be his own. He felt the pain and panic of a trapped animal. Then in the briefest moment, he saw her. He saw love turned to fear in her eyes. He watched her struggle to live. He heard her cry out in pain.

Then, he felt her die.

Their connection broke abruptly as German mutant cried out, his head recoiling from the psychic. She released him with a gasp as his pain flowed into her. "I'm sorry." She whispered.

But, Kurt didn't reply. He couldn't speak. He couldn't move. The bracelet, the ring, the snow globe. The puzzle pieces fell into place in a horrid understanding, as the one kindness Stryker had done for him unraveled and his memories came flooding back to him. He wanted to will them away, to be blissfully unaware again. But, it was too late. Too late for Rachel. Too late for their child. Too late for him.