At the end of Economics, Sabine packed her books slowly. She wanted to go back to the park, but couldn't decide when. Sarah from self-defense had promised to help her learn the new boxing techniques, the ones Logan had carelessly thrown at the class. Sabine couldn't yet land a good uppercut, but hoped that with Sarah's help she could pass.
"Miss York, may I have a word with you in my office?" Storm leaned against her desk, her dark eyes not revealing anything behind her words.
Sabine started, surprised and a little frightened. She knew that students were not allowed off campus during the school hours, and was a little nervous that she had been caught, but she also knew that the kids did it all the time. Marie and Bobby left for lunch almost every day.
"Yes, of course," she said hesitantly, following the older woman from the room. When they walked in, Sabine was surprised that she locked the door behind them. She was more surprised to see Logan standing in the corner, too. Storm sat at the desk and gestured to the chair.
"What's going on?" asked Sabine nervously, her gaze flickering between the two professors. Storm sighed and tapped the thick folder on the desk.
"We've noticed that you've been scarce around here," said Storm, folding her hands. Sabine relaxed a little. So they noticed she left once or twice; all of the students did. "I saw you leaving campus yesterday."
"I just needed a walk," said Sabine, shrugging. "I didn't do anything. I just walked, and talked with some people." She didn't want to tell them about her chess friend; the reasoning behind her decisions had been too personal for her to share with them yet. "And then I came back. It's no big deal, everybody does it."
Storm stared at her for a moment, sympathy in her eyes. Sabine ground her teeth a little; she hated to be pitied. But she waited patiently.
"But not everybody is a class 5 mutant." Storm opened the files. Sabine's nails dug a little into the chair, and she saw Logan push himself off of the wall. So, that was why he was there. Logan was probably the only person she'd ever met who could be immune to her power. But she couldn't know; she had never tried it on him, or anybody, for years.
"That doesn't mean anything," she said quietly, trying to be reasonable. "Professor Xavier said it meant nothing. I didn't do anything."
"Professor Xavier was a better headmaster than I am," said Storm gently. "He was wiser and much more powerful. I'm sorry, I don't know yet what to do with you. You're very strong, and your power is so morally debatable that it's going to take some time for me to figure that out."
"So you're confining me," fumed Sabine, trying to control her fury. Logan was much nearer now, his hands clenching and unclenching. It was very brave of him to risk her losing control, when he didn't know if she could overpower him or not. "You're locking me in, even though I haven't done anything. I've never done anything! Not since I've been here!"
"But you have before," specified Storm, touching the folder gently. "And we're not confining you here. We just want you to have an escort for when you want to leave."
"Him," spat Sabine, cocking her head in Logan's direction. She saw him bristle at the cold acknowledgment, but all her attention was on the woman in front of her. "I see how it is. I'm too much for you to handle, so you put me on lockdown."
Sabine stood when Storm said nothing, and pushed the chair back in calmly. "I'm not leaving the school. I'm not going to hurt anybody. But you can't keep me here."
She walked calmly to the office's door, letting Logan escort her back to her room. She thanked him quietly before shutting and locking her door. He looked sorry, but also pretty determined. Sabine guessed that they had discussed it before calling her in.
She sighed and sat on her bed. Flipping listlessly through a book on business management, she finally tossed it across the room and opened her window. Living on the fourth floor meant a lovely view, but also a distinct lack of escape. It usually didn't matter, but she was sure that someone was keeping an eye on her room now.
"Sabine?" called a voice from outside of her room, knocking on her door. "Please, let me in!" It was Kitty. Sabine stood and clicked the bolt open, and the pretty girl rushed in. She looked curious and apologetic all at once. "I'm sorry, I heard what happened!"
"You did?" groaned Sabine, sitting back down on her bed. It was a small school, and news always got around so fast. Now everyone would know she wasn't supposed to leave, and they would probably turn her in if they knew why.
"That's awful, that they're not letting you leave!" gushed Kitty, patting her friend's hand. "I know I'd go nuts if I had to stay here all the time!"
"It's not that, it's just…just…" Sabine trailed off, staring at the sympathetic young girl. "I'm just sad because I didn't get the chance to tell my new friend goodbye. I just wanted to meet with him in the park, and now I can't even tell him I'm not allowed anymore." She left out the more alarming details of her story, like how her friend was quite old and not so much her friend as a reluctant chess partner. But it worked; Kitty looked sorrier than ever, and then suddenly quite devious.
"I mean, I could…you know," she whispered, her eyes sliding to the door and back. "Just for a little while. And then bring you back in, if it's only a short while!" She didn't want to get in trouble, clearly, but Kitty was a sympathetic creature if ever there was one.
"Please," murmured Sabine, smiling endearingly. Kitty gave her a mischievous look and held up a two fingers.
"Two hours! That's all! It's a twenty minute walk to the park, so that gives you an hour and twenty minutes, okay? Make sure you're back! I know for a fact that no one will be around, it's across class hours anyways, and I don't care about skipping if you don't."
"Thank you so much!" Sabine hugged Kitty tightly, and felt them slip through three floors effortlessly. They landed catlike on the first floor, in an empty classroom. Sabine climbed out an open window.
"Don't forget! Two hours, and I'll be back in this room to let you in!" Sabine nodded and began to run.
There he was, as faithful as the rising sun, sitting at the chessboards. No wonder she could never beat him. She kept running, all the way up until she stopped in front of his startled face. He took one look at her crumpled, quivering face and gestured across from him.
"Tell me things," she sniffed, sitting down immediately and ignoring the chessboard. "Please. Tell me things you've never told anybody. Please." She kept careful track of her watch; by running she had successfully halved the time it took to get there.
He looked for a moment as though he might refuse, but then gave her a strange, probing look. He was silent for a few minutes.
"My mother, father, and sister were killed in the Warsaw Ghetto on World War II. I was, shortly afterwards, sent to Auschwitz, where I was kept and trained as a fighter because of my…talents. I was married, once. My wife died long ago. I know of whom you compare me to. Charles Xavier was my closest friend when I was young. We remained close, up until his death, in our own ways."
Sabine blinked a few times under the weight of his suffering. But he didn't seem concerned about his own stories. He waited patiently for her to speak. She swallowed a few times, her burden eased a little by his far greater ones.
"I go to Professor Xavier's school, it's my last year," she gulped, wiping away some tears as she told him everything. She told him about not being allowed to use her powers, about being kept out of everything, and about the isolation. Even with friends like Kitty and Marie, she was still so alone now. Nobody could understand.
"What is it, my dear, that they can't understand?" he asked her gently, with the wise patience of a man with all the time in the world. Sabine's shoulders shook with her burden.
"I can fix everything," she whispered brokenly, her eyes squeezing shut with the pressure of her own shame. "I can, but he told me not to. He told me it's not moral."
"What isn't?" he pushed, his eyes bright with interest. "Tell me." He was too eager, but she needed to tell somebody. She needed someone to hold her secret for her, and this man had been a friend of Professor Xavier.
"I…I can manipulate time," she murmured, barely audible with her hand over her mouth. "In small or medium-sized areas. Deteriorate wood, rocks, animals, people…and bring them back. It's not affecting just physical age, either, it takes away scars…things that happened between then and now. Sometimes memories, but that's rare."
He stared at her, something unbearably incredible in his gaze. He could hardly speak.
"…how?" he managed the single word. She blushed a little bit.
"My nickname is Spirit," she said shyly. "Spiritus, in Latin, is breath. It's however far my breath touches when I do it."
"And how, young lady, is that something to be ashamed of?" he said sharply, surprising her. She hiccupped a little, rubbing at her eyes.
"Professor Xavier said-"
"I knew Charles for a long time," said Erik Lehnsherr. "And if there was one thing he could not do, it was to allow his pupils to reach their greatest true potential. He was an intelligent and remarkable man, but that was something that he just could not do."
Sabine tucked a lock of hair behind her ear, confused and proud at the same time. "But, I used it before and all it did was tear my own family apart," she murmured, pulling at her hair. That had been her lesson, before she had met Charles Xavier.
"Yes, of course it did. Any strength untempered is bound to be out of control," he said, taking her responsibility. "But, as you surely know, strength trapped will rebel. You've seen it before."
Sabine did not want to be reminded of their old professor. She had liked Professor Grey very much, and had been disturbed to hear of what happened to her.
"What do I do?" she whispered, wringing her hands desperately. He reached out and took them in his own larger hands. "Do I bring Professor Xavier back? What if he's angry with me? Is it morally wrong? He's not here to tell me what to do!"
"Show me," said Erik quietly, standing up. Sabine stepped back, but he still held her hands tightly. She shook her head, silently imploring that he let her go. "Do it. I have nothing. I have no family to know, nothing to hide this from, and nothing for me now."
"It's not right," gasped Sabine, shaking her head again. "He told me, and…and it doesn't help anybody! I promised I wouldn't…" But she couldn't tear her eyes from his steely gaze.
Almost without willing it, Sabine leaned forward and gently released a breath of cold, white air. It spread slowly, enveloping his aged face, moving down his neck as she continued a constant and steady stream of breath. He closed his eyes, as it moved down his shoulders, his chest, the rest of his body until he was coated in a thick, hard coat of marble-white material. It continued to harden until cracks showed in the plaster cast.
Sabine began to peel off the pieces, helping the cracking along. She couldn't believe she had done it again, but something about this man intrigued her. He seemed as though he did not belong in the park, where he sat and played chess because he had to.
The cast was in the exact form of his old body. She could see every wrinkle, every line of suffering and age and wear. She tore them out, starting at his arms so he could help her. Once he felt her breaking the cast apart, he began to twist his body in an effort to shatter the hard material. But she touched his arm and pulled off another piece, and he understood.
She worked up his shoulders, letting him free his legs blindly. Pulling the shards from his neck, she revealed the smooth, firm skin beneath. The wrinkled skin fell apart in her hands. She freed his neck, his jaw, which she found to be strong and aggressive. Blushing a little, she pulled the cast bits from his cheeks and ears, and he took a deep breath in when she freed his mouth. It was a young, handsome mouth, and curious, she continued to free his thick, dark hair.
Finally, gently, she peeled the white stuff from his eyes. He opened them slowly, his vision a little unfocused from the change, and she was greeted by the same cool green-grey eyes. She stared, a little breathlessly, at the man standing before her. His body breathed confidence and power, tall and lean as a jungle cat.
He looked at his hands wonderingly, pulled back the sleeves of his black sweater to examine the cords of muscle beneath smooth, strong skin. A smile moved across his features, a happy, handsome smile.
Sabine blinked away a tear or two, sharing in his joy. She had forgotten how she loved to watch the return of one so old to his youth, the freedom and bliss in their eyes. Erik was exactly that, as disbelieving and delighted as any she'd ever changed.
He turned, smooth and graceful in his newfound youth, and stretched out a hand before him. Sabine broke into a joyful laugh.
His fist clenched, and a car parked nearby was crushed into the size of a garbage can.
Sabine's laugh abruptly turned to a scream of horror, and her hands flew to cover her mouth in complete shock. She lost her breath; she couldn't believe what she had seen. Erik turned back to her, surprised at the sudden noise.
"You-you never told me-" she gasped, her eyes moving between him and the car. "You're a…and you-"
"Must have slipped my mind," he said easily, straightening his scarf. His expression was still easy and delighted, but there was a deadly intensity beneath his words that frightened her.
"You're…you're…" she stammered, trying not to cry. "You're Magneto! And you lied to me! Everything you told me!" she panted, backing away hastily. He looked genuinely hurt at that, and stepped forward. But Sabine turned and began to run.
"Wait! Sabine!"
She ran hard, wondering if she had it in her to turn back and kill him. But her moral compass cowered at that; she detested murder in any form. She had to tell Storm, Logan, Marie, anybody. Somebody had to do something.
But a gentle pull at her waist told her that her belt buckle was indeed genuine brass. It pulled her to a stop, but infuriated, she deteriorated the leather as if it were paper. It crumbled from her waist and she ran.
The buckles on her bag were metal too, and when it began to restrict her, she deteriorated that too. She dared him to rip her earrings out.
But the sudden presence of strong, gentle hands at her waist surprised her. He was easily within her range; one breath would put him straight back into old age. But he dared to approach her for some reason, and she couldn't find it in herself to make him age again. She had never done that to a living creature in her life.
"Sabine, listen to me," his voice rumbled in her ear, and she shivered with a sudden rush of attraction. "I didn't lie to you. I wasn't trying to trick you. I was afraid that when you knew who I was, you wouldn't come back. Can you blame a lonely old man for enjoying the company of a pretty, clever woman?"
"But, you're a monster," she cried out, pushing at his hands. He didn't let her go, instead pulling her tight against his long, hard body. She blushed, but didn't give in. She wouldn't be fooled by him.
"Am I?" he growled, turning her suddenly. She was much too close to his intense gaze. "Am I such a monster for standing up for mutants everywhere? For protecting the victims of a senseless government?" The fire died suddenly, though it continued to smolder in his eyes. He took a deep breath and his eyes roamed her face.
"Don't," she squeaked against her own will, pulling back. He released her, and she stumbled back a few steps. Breathless, she quivered all over with desire for him. She couldn't believe she had freed such a creature from his bonds. "Please, please go away. Please don't make me tell them!"
He stepped forward again, unthreatening, entirely at ease. Her whole body flexed in preparation at his approach. He touched her cheek lightly, his thumb tracing her chin and down her neck. She swallowed, her eyes tightly closed. She felt his breath light on her lips. If she opened her eyes, she was sure he would be centimeters away.
"I'm a collector of sorts," he said quietly, and she felt his voice more than heard it. The timbres burst against her lips; he was so close. "I collect magnificent things. And you, my dear, are indeed a magnificent thing."
And then he released her, and he was walking away.