I am so sorry for this chapter taking so long, but as is so often the case, a lot of things came up in my life. I got swamped, and this story got put on the back burner. Fear not, I am not done with the characters in this story yet, and there are just a few chapters left until completion. It will not remain unfinished, and there WILL be resolution.
Until then, enjoy.
--P.
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Sarah opens her eyes.
At first there is only darkness with bits of blurry light bouncing hazily in and out of her visual range. Several blinks and she still cannot see. Worse yet, something stings her eyes and makes her inhale sharply; the inhalation causes her chest to blaze in agony.
Now completely frustrated, Sarah firmly opens her eyes once more. Her vision clears, and she is met with the sight of water. Carefully turning her head, the young woman can tell that she is beached, and from her position on the rocky shore she can just make out Alcatraz in the distance.
It lurks like a lumpy ghost, rising just above the inky water of the bay, and still connected to the mainland by the uprooted Golden Gate Bridge, which itself is now teeming with moving lights; soldiers, no doubt.
She remembers everything: the battle with the Wolverine, the misstep caused by letting her anger get the better of her, the blow to her chest which is giving her so much trouble now. Sarah even firmly recalls the angel circling overhead. She was so certain that the curtain had finally gone down on her life. What happened?
Her survival of Wolverine's attack could be attributed simply to the fast rate of healing her intense metabolism afforded her. Sarah is nowhere near as durable as the clawed mutant himself, but with enough time, even she can survive a near-fatal wound without so much as a scar to show for it. Still, how in the hell had Sarah gotten off of the island and onto the shoreline in one piece?
She tries to sit up, anxious to get a better look and confused about her current location. The attempt is made futile however, when the pain in Sarah's chest reprimands her harshly, and forces her back into a half-sitting position against the rocks.
It's during this attempt that she notices the shape--that of a young man--standing in the water a few yards offshore. This alarms Sarah because, in her current injured state, she's significantly more prone than she ever would be in top form. Regardless, she grits her teeth and hoists herself into a fully upright sitting position. Damn the pain, she thinks. I didn't survive that damned island to just sit back and be killed.
The figure remains in the water, back to the shore, unmoving. It's when the woman braces herself into her upright position and takes a more lasting look that she notices the figure isn't standing in the water at all.
He's standing on it.
"Eric." Sarah whispers, the sound lost in the sea winds.
Something stirs, stretches, and burns inside her chest, down past the superficial pain of her wound. Sarah's throat tightens; her eyes sting.
"Eric." She calls, voice choked but still trying to rise over the pounding of the wind.
He doesn't hear her and remains facing away from the shore. He's watching the island. There's a flash of light, red like fire, followed by a faint explosion. Something crackles in the distance. Flames rise above the rocks on Alcatraz, casting the buildings into deep and expressive shadow.
The light becomes so intense that it illuminates the entire island, the bridge, the water, even the shore itself. Sarah's jaw hangs open in surprise, and she's suddenly very curious, very afraid. She looks to the water, to Eric, and sees that he's still standing on the surface, completely still except for the wind in his long blue scarf.
"Something's wrong." Sarah mumbles to herself, and wonders about Calisto, Magneto, and the other warriors on the island. Is this their doing? Something inside her tells her that it's something far worse.
"It's her."
Sarah flinches, then hisses at the pain the action causes her chest. Eric has moved and is standing beside her on the shore. He left the water, climbed the shore, and approached without her ever even noticing.
"Jesus, kid. When did you get so sneaky?"
Eric doesn't answer, remaining transfixed on the island and the fire that continues to blaze amid the rocks and manmade structures.
Sarah wants to speak again, but is at a complete loss as to what to say. The person standing beside her is fundamentally different from the frightened boy she left on the bridge at the onset of the battle. "Eric?"
"Yes?"
"What happened?"
Eric looks down at Sarah, his eyes glowing a soft blue that illuminates the area around his face. His expression is unreadable, the space behind the light of his eyes is vast. "A lot of things."
Sarah can't meet the unsettling blue of those eyes and breaks her gaze away from Eric. She watches the island instead.
"I shouldn't have let you go."
"Eric, we had… I had orders. I had to go, you know that--"
Eric shakes his head. "But you're here, you're safe, and that's all that matters."
"What?"
"Everything that has happened is so hypocritical and stupid; unplanned."
Sarah scoffs. "What are you talking about? Magneto planned--"
The fire on the island shifts, and the sounds of another explosion ripple across the water and reach the two on the shore, effectively cutting Sarah off. The waves in the bay become more erratic, more wild. Twin tongues of flame flare out above the main structure of Alcatraz like the glistening red-orange wings of some predatory bird. The building begins to chip away like burning newspaper.
Eric sighs. "He didn't plan. He didn't see. He didn't think about anyone but himself; his stupid vengeance."
"He's not doing this for himself, he's doing it for mutants. For us. That's all that matters!" Sarah snarls.
"No."
"What do you mean no? You've seen what the humans do. You've seen their weapons. They want to change us, want to take away our freedom! They'd have us dead if they could! Why are you suddenly so goddamned spineless"
Eric's eyes stab downwards, the shock blue of the irises causing Sarah to recoil slightly, a mild tinge of fear coursing through her. "Being hated does not make hatred acceptable."
"What do you know about anything? You're just a kid."
"Even children have a basic sense of right and wrong." Eric replies.
Sarah makes as if to retort, but the great fire on the island catches her eye again. The fiery wings rise higher, forming the shape of some terrible creature in the sky above Alcatraz. The entire bay is covered in a brilliant light, blotting out stars and even the moon. Heat cascades outwards from the conflagration, and the two mutants on the shore can feel it even from the great distance. The water stops lapping against the shore and pulls back, as if preparing for a tidal wave.
Eric shakes his head. "She can't do that. No one can do that."
"What? What can't she do?" Sarah forgets the earlier argument, forgets even to ask who this mysterious 'she' is. She's terrified, but can't look away. The heat dries the water from her clothes and sucks the moisture from her skin.
The sea around the island begins to rise, forming a wall of water hundreds of feet high around the blazing shape in the sky. The topmost edges of the great water wall hisses into great founts of steam as the entire structure of Alcatraz erupts into flames, floating away as dust in winds kicked up by the firestorm. Even the Golden Gate Bridge itself starts to pitch violently, the steel closest to the island glowing red-hot.
"She can't do that… the ocean… I can feel it fighting and… she's so strong." Eric mumbles, the glowing blue of his eyes eclipsed by the light around him. He remains transfixed on the wall of water that continues to climb around and above the island. Before long, he has to look away. The light becomes too much.
Sarah has stopped watching as well, her face turned away from the scene and eyes closed tight to shut out the light. She's aware of Eric holding her, his arms around her bony shoulders, but she's too afraid to look. The heat presses down relentlessly.
"I'm sorry." Eric whispers to Sarah. "I'm sorry this is all wrong. I'm sorry, Sarah. I'm sorry."
She can feel him shaking and she wants to tell him that she doesn't blame him; she's sorry too. The fear of the moment, the seemingly imminent immolation, has stifled all anger, all indignation. Sarah fears for her life, for the life of her friend-- her only friend.
"I just want to go home." Eric mumbles, arms like steel girders around Sarah, pulling her to him. "I just want to go home."
"We will. We'll go home together."
In a surge, a shockwave of kinetic force, everything goes black.
"We'll go home together."