Requiem
Setting: Three years after PD Season 2. A few years back in the 'corrected' post-DOFP universe.
Summary: Ned discovered his mutation when he was nine. He was lucky enough to find a partner that thought his power was a gift, not an abomination - even more so when his powers brought back his childhood sweetheart. But nothing lasts forever. There's nothing left for him in Papen County. This is the end. Or is it?
Warnings: Angst like whoa. Character death. Suicide and overall dark themes at the beginning.
accelerando
gradually increasing the tempo
A galaxy of minds swirled before Charles, endless pinpricks of red light sorting themselves into the outlines of continents and cities.
An anonymous tip delivered by -of all things- a carrier pigeon directed his attention to the matter. Disturbing whispers among sources close to the Purifiers had brought confirmation. The Purifiers believed they had discovered a mutant with the ability to bring the dead back to life.
The concept was almost laughable. A man of science, of rationality such as himself found it difficult to accept the the idea of resurrection. And yet, in his time researching and training mutant young people, he had yet to find a limit to their powers. Surely death was the one impassable barrier.
He'd been trying to track the man via Cerebro, but picking one unfamiliar mutant out of thousands via nothing more than reports of heightened activity in a broad region of Pennsylvania was no simple task, even for a telepath as experienced as he.
Mighty generators hummed in unison. Ghost images flickered across the room, visual representations of the minds he sorted through. His mental touch brushed feather-light from mind to mind, examining dozens at a time. He sought not a specific pattern of psionic activity, but the emotional state of one being hunted. Using that as a magnetic pull, he could establish a stronger connection.
At last, on the edges of Pittsburgh, there was a flash of energy and distantly he felt a human life fade.
And one of the minds that he was connected to erupted with pain.
Charles shifted his focus and the translucent image of a young man kneeling before a woman's body manifested before him. His shirt had been hastily slashed open from the sternum, a line of blood trickling its way down his chest, marred by an incomplete hand print.
He launched himself off the ground, breaking away from partially visible captors. He snatched a gun from one of their belts and fired repeatedly. More lights faded from Charles' perception. The man took several heaving breaths and sagged against a wall. His expression crumpled from stony determination to desperate hopelessness. Slowly he brought his hands to cover his face.
The professor pressed deeper into the the man's mind, seeking to access more specific thoughts and details to figure out where this scene was taking place.
Great shoulders shook and waves of agony rippled through the connection, into Charles' own mind.
Horror. Guilt.
Chuck's dead Chuck's dead she's dead and it's all my fault.
Despair.
I just thought my world would be better with you in it. What am I supposed to do now?
Fear.
Someone's coming.
The young man's head snapped up. Misery gave way to terror as he looked toward the source of the sound. He scrambled to his feet, giving the woman's body one last longing look before he began to run, past a street sign marking the intersection as 18th and Cathedral.
She's gone. And there's no bringing her back this time.
Good enough. Pulling back, Charles began the deactivation procedure. He removed the headset and leaned back in his chair. He sighed deeply, raising a hand to pinch the bridge of his nose. He was startled to find his cheeks wet. Stricken by the emotional transference, he cleared his throat to loosen the sudden tightness.
Charles reached for his communicator.
They needed to get to Pittsburgh.
notes.
If Bryan Singer can change the chronology of a universe, so can I.
Don't write the story. Live the story.