Okay, usually I like for the chapters to encompass like 1-2 days at a time, but I've been writing this story a little differently...and so a decent amount of time passes through this chapter. It's kind of weird, but I don't feel like chopping it into two chapters, so, here's an oddly timed single chapter. Huzzah!
Also, Sabine is a character I made up, she does not belong to Marvel (to my knowledge), I haven't read all of the comics so I can't be SURE. Crazier stuff has happened, but she's as original as I could make her :)
Sabine took a deep breath, trembling. She checked her watch, and saw that she had less than five minutes to get back. Emitting a breathless scream, she began to sprint.
"Cut it close, much?" grumbled Kitty, letting Sabine back through the window. They were safe, though; nobody had seen her leave, and no one saw her come back. Sabine laughed nervously, guilt and terror eating at her insides. She wondered how she could tell them, or if she should; but, if he revealed himself as Magneto reborn to youth and power, they would surely know it was her.
"I'm sorry," she whispered, her voice cracked. Kitty just shot her an irritably amused look as they walked back to their rooms.
"How was your visit?" asked Kitty quietly, winking. She had suspected it to be a young man and, well, she wasn't really wrong anymore. Sabine felt her breath squeezing in her lungs as she managed a shrug and a sheepish grin.
"Well, you know, this and that," she stumbled, getting back to her room. "Gotta go, not feeling well, I'll see you at breakfast!" With that, she shut the door and managed to get a few minutes by herself.
She sighed, shuddering a little. What had she done?
Pacing the room, Sabine wrung her hands. If she told, then she would certainly be expelled. She might even be arrested, for assisting a criminal or something like that. If she didn't, then she might get away with it, so long as Erik Lehnsherr stayed quiet. But what were the chances of that?
Well, she was unlikely to find out from him, now that she had stormed off and they had parted on less than pleasant terms. Sabine dropped her head in her hands, groaning.
"See, I've been thinking," came a loud voice from her windowsill, and Sabine nearly fell over in her fright. She gasped, staring at the man slung casually in her open window. The sky was darkening with the onslaught of evening behind him. He was playing with a small metallic ball, forming it and reforming it as he spoke.
"Wha-why? Why are you following me?" she gasped, staggering to her feet. He clenched the ball in his fist and turned to smile at her.
"Bad habit of mine. Although I suppose I owe you a few days of light stalking, to return the favor." He slid from her window, moving slowly towards her. "Anyways, I've been thinking about this newfound youth of mine. I've been thinking about the moves I've done wrong in my life, like letting my favorite talents escape me, turn against me. It seems that no matter how I fight the humans for our sake, it's always my own kind that betrays me."
"Erik, you can't!" burst Sabine in a hushed shout. His laugh was bright and pleasant.
"Erik, oh I like that!" he sighed, rolling the metal in his fingers. "Much better than Mr. Lehnsherr. I forgot how fun it is to be young." His eyes fell back to her, and she flushed hotly for whatever reason.
"They'll expel me if they find out," she pleaded, trying to bring him back to a cleaner train of thought. "Please, they might even arrest me! They can't know you're powerful again!" He snorted suddenly, shaking his head.
"Sabine, Sabine, why on earth would I reveal myself?" he said, to her incredible relief. She sighed, touching her forehead lightly. "The best part of this is how unsuspecting they are. Why would they fight me? They don't know who I am. Nobody does, except for you and me."
Something sounded odd about the way he said that, and Sabine looked up into his cool eyes.
"And therein does lay danger, I suppose…"
The ball suddenly stretched and twisted into a thin rope, and before she could run it was around her throat, wrapped snugly like a choker. Sabine's fingers scrabbled at its smooth surface, but metal was difficult for her to deteriorate, especially titanium. And her breath could not reach the metal at her neck.
"Are you a danger to me, dear Sabine?" he mused, his hand relaxed but poised to kill. He studied her face, nothing friendly or seductive in his cold features. He calculated her skill against his, her capacity to betray. "History tells me that if I don't kill you, then you will betray me. It wouldn't be the first time my own weakness has stabbed me in the back."
She tried to plead with her eyes, as the metal was tightening around her throat. But something in his expression changed, and the metal snapped from her neck back to his hand. She gasped, rubbing the light red marks, a little bit dizzy.
"God help me, but I cannot destroy such loveliness."
"Stop…doing that," she panted, mistrustful of him. She didn't dare attempt to get close enough to change him; his reflexes, she saw now, were much faster than hers. He could stop her breath before she could even consider attacking him.
"Stop doing what?" he asked her, honestly confused. She shook her head angrily.
"Stop saying that kind of stuff." Sabine, though she had lovely dark eyes and dark hair, had never been the point of attraction with friends like Marie. Her body was lean and fit, but with little curves to speak of. Few men had attempted at more than to sleep with her and leave her, deeming her unworthy of a chance.
"Sabine, I don't speak of appearance, though I must say there is nothing wrong with yours." He moved closer, and she felt her muscles draw tight. "I admire talent in all of its forms. Your power is what draws me."
Footsteps sounded outside of the door, and someone knocked. Her breath left her, but when she turned her visitor was gone.
"Sabine? Are you in there?" called a quiet, worried voice. Sabine rose and quickly unlocked the door. Storm stood there, her expression a variety of relief, apology, and humility. Sabine instantly felt terrible for how she had angered at the woman's attempts for some kind of control and order.
"Hello, Professor, please come in!" she said, backing up. The weary woman smiled and crossed the threshold, standing almost abashedly in the small, neat room.
"Sabine, I wanted to apologize for whatever hurt or offense you felt at our decision," said Storm, touching the younger girl's arm. "I wish there was an easier way, and I should have asked your opinion, or spoken with you, before I'd made a rule like that."
Sabine noticed that she wasn't recalling the rule, but to be fair she had now broken several rules, and so she closed her lips tightly and smiled.
"I understand entirely, Professor," said Sabine, bowing her head a little. "It took me a little time, but I understand your decision, and I do respect it." Storm looked surprised and pleased, and she smiled at the girl.
"Thank you for being so good about it," said Storm with some relief. "If you have questions, or any problems, or just want to talk, please feel free to come to my office, anytime you like."
Sabine's mouth opened a little, guilt gnawing at her, but her resolve wavered and she closed it, managing a smile. The new headmaster turned and left her room.
If Magneto wasn't going to reveal himself, then perhaps she didn't have to either. Perhaps she could trust that he would accept his second chance and do something else with his life; she had been surprised before!
She fell asleep a little more at ease than before, and woke up feeling well-rested and hungry. She wandered from her room, thinking about her class at ten and whether or not they would have cinnamon rolls in the breakfast hall.
The students crowded the halls, all migrating towards the food. Sabine joined them hungrily, her gaze wandering around the pack, seeking out her friends.
Suddenly her eyes met a cold gaze, equipped with a jaunty grin. Sabine's heart stopped and before she knew it she was pushing through the crowd.
She grabbed a sleeve of his handsome high-collar brown jacket and yanked him off to the side with more force than she'd expected. "What are you doing here? You can't be a student, you're what, thirty?"
"More like late twenties, I'd say," he said, miffed, pulling his sleeve from her shaking hand. "Besides, I'm not here to be a student, good god, woman. I can't stand these 'professors' in the least. No, I'm here for a slightly more prestigious position."
She stared at him, and he patted her cheek sadly. "I'm sorry, but we simply can't go on like this. Student-teacher relationships are explicitly forbidden."
"You're…a professor?" she squeaked, breathless. He shrugged.
"Well, not yet. I'm here for my interview, of course." He was walking away now, but Sabine pursued him, all thoughts on breakfast forgotten.
"You can't!" she let out a hushed cry, ever aware of the attention of the surrounding students on them. "If they know who you are…if they recognize you," she struggled to keep up with his long strides. But abruptly he stopped and turned, no longer friendly.
"Nobody will recognize me. Nobody will suspect me. And the things I told you in the park, I meant it when I said nobody knows. Not the school system, not the government, nobody. Charles Xavier knew, and he is of little consequence now. There are few people who would recognize me, and they have little chance of either seeing me or remembering. So don't try to stop me, Sabine, this is more important than your permanent records."
Seeing her shock and hurt at his harsh words, he sighed a little. Stepping forward, he touched her cheek gently. Her skin burst to flames, and she couldn't quite speak.
"I'm sorry. But nothing I do is purposeless." His green-grey eyes searched hers, and though students were funneling past them no one noticed their intimate proximity in the dark corner of the hall. "Although I am sorry this can't go on." He leaned forward suddenly, and she felt the brief touch of his smile against her lips.
But then he was walking away from her again, and closing the door to the headmaster's office behind him. Sabine stood, shivering, in the hall, torn between bursting into Storm's office and trying to listen through the keyhole, but neither was a possibility. Telling Storm would mean her expulsion, and the door was sound-proof, she knew.
She turned, grabbed an apple, and sat at the nearest table. She would speak with him again before he left, to make sure nothing went wrong. She had to.
"Your credentials are quite impressive, Mr. Lehnsherr," said Storm, but she didn't look suspicious. Erik shrugged a little and laughed.
"Well, you don't really need to attend some big-name college to learn a few languages," he said easily, his hands folded in his lap. "I picked up several, with my godfather in the military. Mostly the basic European ones, French, German, Greek, and a decent bit of Latin, but I thought that might be good enough. It's always a good thing to be knowledgeable in aspects of language, especially in an internationally changing world such as this."
"Yes…and you are of course aware that this is a special school," said Storm, putting down his paperwork. He smiled charmingly, and she looked a little bit flustered.
"Of course," he assured her, his expression politely interested. "I've always supported the mutant society before, and I felt that at schools such as this, the presence of non-mutant faculty is essential to their development as accepted and well-rounded members of a community."
"A very astute observation," she allowed, smiling. "I feel the same way. Mr. Lehnsherr, welcome to the school."
Erik smiled and shook her hand warmly before turning to leave.
"Before I forget," she called after him, standing. "Here are your room keys, all faculty rooms are on the first floor. You'll get an envelope within the next few days with the details of your employment here."
He shook her hand warmly, accepting the keys. "I do look forward to it."
Sabine jumped to her feet as she saw him leave the room. She ran after him, though she was already late to class. Weaving through the crowd of students, she finally caught up to him and fell into step beside him. He didn't acknowledge her, but he did slow down a little until they were at the same pace.
"Well?" she asked impatiently, and he shrugged a little. Holding up one hand, he jingled the keys. She sighed, equal parts relieved and scared. "What now?"
"Come to my room tonight," he said suddenly, turning and squaring in front of her. Sabine's mouth opened and closed a few times, stunned at his blunt order. "Midnight. We'll talk then."
He turned and unlocked his room, shutting the door behind him.
Sabine walked in a daze to her next class. She could hardly listen to the old ethics professor, a new mutant who had replaced Professor Xavier. He was Professor Jay, an ancient man with the ability to see brief flashes of the future. Marie swore he had to be one of the first mutants ever.
But it made class interesting when he zoned into a vision for several minutes and they were free to talk and pass notes until he returned. His visions were usually pretty boring, from what they had learned of him. Nothing significant came of them; they were mostly personal and minor.
Finally, at the end of ethics, they were free to go to lunch. Sabine left with Sky, a cheerful new girl who could levitate, and they discussed whether or not Professor Jay might know if their shows got canceled. But, even as she laughed, she still couldn't escape the horrible sense of trepidation.
The man who would wait for her at midnight was not the same one she had once played chess with. She knew that they never were the same; no one is exactly as how they were when they were young. But she was surprised at his chaotic nature, the wildness of his character.
She had also been surprised at the unleashing of his sensuality. He used it like a weapon, drawing her ceaselessly to him again and again. Intelligent, powerful, seductive; he was an absolute nightmare. She couldn't leave him in this state.
"Sabine? Are you even listening?" Sky's brown eyes, nearly hidden behind thick glasses, blinked a few times over Sabine's shoulder. Her mouth opened a little, and her eyebrows raised. "Ooh, is that the new Professor?"
Sabine flinched, and didn't dare turn around. "Professor Lehnsherr? Probably…" Sky touched her hair, her glasses, and blushed. Sabine could have laughed if she wasn't so terrified. Please, don't let anybody recognize him…
"He's hot as shit!" burst Sky, giggling like a maniac. Sabine couldn't hold back a snort. "I mean, wow! He's not even old, he's what, twenty-five?" Sabine rolled her eyes, hoping he wouldn't hear that. He was already cocky enough about his new age.
"You're eighteen," she reminded Sky, spooning a bite of clam chowder. "That's still too old for you."
"You're twenty," pointed out Sky irritably, tearing her gaze back to Sabine. "Not too old for you, I suppose?" Sabine flushed a little and filled her mouth with chowder. It wasn't something she needed to think about.
"Here, let's go over the stuff for Logan's class. He'll kick our asses again if we don't get these blocks down."
The day passed in a blur. Sabine suffered through self-defense, dinner, and finally was sitting at her desk trying to study for the economics test coming up. She flipped through a few business applications, wondering where her graduation would take her.
The clock hands ticked on, and she found herself staring at the face of her impassive clock, unable to determine if she was wishing it forward or back. She tapped the desk with her pencil, wondering if she had it in her to go or not.
At ten, she decided she wasn't going to go. He had no more need of her, and so she should let him live his life on without her. He had a job, and didn't seem keen on revealing himself anyways.
At ten thirty, she decided to go. It was good to check up on her more unstable victims, and as a person Erik was incredibly unstable. She should make sure it hadn't been an entire mistake, and if it was, she should fix it.
At eleven she scolded herself. Nothing good happens after dark, and she couldn't deny her attraction to the uncontrollable man. She mustn't let that impede her rational thought.
At eleven fifty, she climbed into bed and closed her eyes.
At eleven fifty-five she was running down the stairs.
Sabine dawdled quietly outside of the door, pulling at her fingers in agonizing indecision. The thick dark door was tall and foreboding; her hand stretched to knock, and then fell away before it could. She hated to admit it, but he scared her; she had seen his casual acceptance of murder, she had seen how easily he had weighed her life.
Her hand rose and knocked lightly, once, on the door. Everything was silent, and for a moment she hoped that he was asleep.
"Come in."
Sabine opened the door and saw Erik Lehnsherr standing in front of a full-length mirror in a wifebeater and dark jeans. His eyes met with hers in the mirror and a shadow of a smile moved briefly across his features. "Good. I was afraid I'd have to come find you."
She didn't respond, closing the door quietly behind her. Its click seemed awfully loud in the quiet room. Looking around, she noticed that the room was still quite bare. A suitcase lay on the bed, and a few shirts hung in the open closet, but besides that it was almost entirely as though he'd just walked in. Sabine eyed the bottles sitting on his desk; they looked less than innocent.
"Sit, please." He was no longer looking at her, but walking to the bathroom. Wetting his hands, he ran them a few times through his dark hair. "I have a few questions I'd like to ask you."
"And I have some for you, too," she found herself saying quietly but clearly. He dried his hands on a towel and returned, unsmiling but calm.
"As I'd expected. But, age before beauty, love. How long do these effects last?" He sat beside her on his bed, hands folded. Sabine shook her head slowly.
"It's not a trick," she said firmly. She had used the same speech before, convincing others of the reality of her powers. "It's permanent, unless I change it again. You'll age normally from here, mid-twenties." He nodded, a small smile breaking out.
"Wonderful. Now, your question?" He waited patiently as she picked one from the many she had plaguing her thoughts.
"If you weren't trying to fool me, how come you didn't tell me you were a mutant?" she asked him, aiming for a more personal question. "And don't pull that lonely old man bullshit on me, you could play chess with other people, you know." His gaze was level, but she saw him grind his jaw briefly.
"I wasn't, at the time." His reply was curt, and she felt that he didn't want to divulge in it. "My turn. How do you feel about Miss Storm?" Sabine didn't understand his train of thoughts, but tried to humor him anyways. She thought for a moment.
"I mean, she's very kind," said Sabine slowly, a little confused. "I don't know her well, but she tries her best…" He nodded, as though every word was something of utmost value to him. "Why do you want to know?"
"I will tell you in good time, and I'm afraid you just used up a question. Now tell me, how do your powers affect death?" He looked terribly interested now, leaning towards her. She could read the hunger in his eyes very clearly, but she couldn't tell if he was hungry for knowledge or for her strength. Sabine shivered a little.
"I…Professor Xavier told me never to talk about that," she whispered, standing and moving away from him. He stood too, dismissing the thought with a flip of his hand.
"Just my curiosity," he said, stalking after her. She backed up, until she felt the press of the doorknob at her hip. "Charles and I had always been hot on the trail of information, and knowledge was something we'd valued more than anything else in the world."
Her hand reached back and twisted the knob, but the bolt snapped shut before she could open the door. Horrified, she looked up at Erik, who was now dangerously close; dangerous for him, anyways. One breath would bring him back to the chessboards, alone.
"I'm not going to hurt you," he said quietly, and she heard the bolt slide back, releasing her. But she stayed frozen against the door, quite unable to move. Her breath was tight in her lungs. "I never hurt my friends."
"We're not friends," she tried to say forcefully, but it came out unsure even in her own ears. He laughed, a throaty, dark sound, and leaned forward, his hand touching her chin gently.
"No, I don't suppose we are," he said, his hooded eyes boring endlessly into hers. His face was close to hers, much too close, and though she leaned back, her body was flush against the door. She shut her eyes tightly, gasping a little. Her hand clenched tightly at the doorknob.
His teeth pulled playfully at her lower lip, the sensation at once gentle and sharp. She gasped, her eyes flying open, mere inches away from his cool gaze. Her skin flushed hot; everything about his posture was sexier than anything she'd encountered. His forearm rested on the wall beside her head, his body curved close to hers. His other hand was still holding her chin.
He didn't kiss her, he only bit gently at her lips. When he moved his mouth to her ear, she sucked in a quick breath. Her hand twisted the doorknob, but the door was held shut by her own weight.
"What do you want?" he whispered, his voice deep and sensual. Her hand ached to wind itself in his shirt, but she resisted with everything she had. "Do you want me?"
"I…I d-," she struggled to pull herself together enough to be coherent. But her belt buckle snapped open, the button to her jeans wiggled loose, her zipper pulled down. She gasped at the rough drag of her own clothes against her skin, at the barest hint of effort it took him. "I-I-"
His hand twisted into her hair, pulling her head back to expose her throat. Sabine gasped and tried to pull away, but couldn't dislodge him. His teeth bit into her shoulder and she cried out in pain, but he soothed her with feather-light kisses up her neck, until she was shivering with desire. He buried his face into the crook of her neck and breathed deeply in the scent of her hair. Sabine's hands had betrayed her; they were tangled in the white cotton of his shirt.
And then, just like that, he turned and walked away from her. Sabine stood, shaking all over, at the door. He walked to his desk and picked up a handle of rum, pouring it into a small glass cup. Downing the shot, he turned back to her. His sensual aura was gone; now he stood cold and calculative again.
"Come back when you know what you want, Sabine," he told her coolly, pouring another drink.
She recognized an exit line when she heard one. Humiliated but not entirely sure why, she smoothed her appearance and stormed from the room with more than one sense of dissatisfaction.
"Sabine, you're going to have to take care of your brothers for me," whispered the supine man. He was tucked into a shabby blanket, his eyes filled with weariness and love. Sabine cried quietly as she tried to warm his hands in hers. "Don't be afraid."
"No, daddy, I can help you," she cried out brokenly, scooting closer. Her father raised a finger and pressed it against her lips. His dark eyes were stern, even as he approached death.
"Don't, Sabine," he said hoarsely. "It's not right. I'm at peace now. I'll be with your mother soon." She wrapped her arms around him, the obedient daughter until the end. The apartment was quiet, and she knew her two young brothers were hiding in their room. A square of light filtered through the single cracked window, particles of dust swirling slowly in the beams.
"I'm sorry I couldn't leave you with more," he said, his hands strong and sure on her back. "Stay together, all of you. You'll be taken to a foster home, but stay together. Family is all you have. My friend is coming to get you in the morning, be good."
"I love you, daddy," hiccupped Sabine, her small fingers clenched tight at his back. She would never forget his warm smell, the absolute safety she had felt in his arms.
"I love you too, Sabine."
Sabine woke to a silent morning. It was Saturday, and all of the students slept in. She sat up, touching her forehead gently. She tried to grasp the pieces of her dream, but all she could recover was her father's bearded, weary face.
Leaning forward, she rested her elbows on her knees as she stared at the gushing fountain not far from her room. It seemed so carefree and merry in her troubled mind, and she loved the sound of the running water.
"Sabine? Can I come in?" She looked up and saw James standing in her doorway, the door cracked open a little. Still hurting a little by his recently malicious behavior towards her, she snorted and turned away.
"Well, you're already in, so I guess you might as well." He walked in and pulled out her chair to sit. James McMavern had never been one for courtesies. "What do you want, James?"
"I just wanted to say I'm sorry. I feel bad for what I said to you, it wasn't right. I wanted to ask if you'd like to get lunch with me tomorrow."
Sabine still felt tender about the way he had made fun of her, but there was something honest in his clear blue eyes. "Well…okay, I guess." Sabine had never been able to hurt people, and even now she couldn't strike back at this boy who had mocked her not long ago.
He smiled charmingly and leaned forward to hug her. "Thanks for understanding, Sabine." Then he stood and left her.
Sabine stood and began to brush her teeth. She should probably try to grab some brunch, before the more active students ate everything. She pulled on a green sweater and dark jeans, to combat the onslaught of cool weather. Sniffing her hair, she decided it was a little too mangy to leave down; a loose bun would do before she could get back and shower.
The mess area was almost entirely deserted. Most of the students took advantage of their weekends to sleep in, and only the nocturnal or early-rising students had bothered coming to get something to eat.
"Miss York."
Jumping a little bit, Sabine turned to see Erik seated at a table alone, his eyes bright and handsome above his folded hands. He was surveying her with entirely inappropriate interest, and she immediately wished she had showered before coming down.
"Did you want me to get you another muffin, Erik?" she asked rather snappily, self-conscious about her rather underdressed self. He, of course, was looking remarkably trim in his black turtleneck and dress slacks. He even wore a damn belt…
"Sir," he said suddenly, and she frowned a little bit.
"What?" she slipped before she could think. He raised a long finger and shook it at her. There was a smile in his eyes, but none on his mouth.
"It's sir now, don't you remember? Or professor, if you'd prefer. I prefer sir, it sounds a little sexier to me," he mused aloud, and her jaw worked irritably. She bared her teeth at him in what could never have been a smile.
"Would you like a damn muffin, then, sir?" she snarled, dark eyes flashing. He laughed and stood, grabbing his brown jacket from the back of his chair. Slipping his arms into it, he buttoned it up to his throat.
"No thank you, but you can have a detention for such profanity. I'm afraid I don't tolerate cursing in my school," he chuckled, ignoring her black glare.
"It's not your school," she pointed out, and he shrugged as he walked right up to her. She shifted away uncomfortably, but he stepped closer.
"No, but it sounds awfully nice, doesn't it?" he said quietly, and then his voice grew quieter still. "Detention. My office. Nine o' clock, Miss York."