Author´s note:
Wow, you guys are awesome. This time it almost seemed as if you were sitting right down at your PCs waiting for the new chappy to get published, quick as I got your reviews. (hugs)
Okay, so much friendliness and support deserve a favour...
2wingo: Uhm... oh... never thought of that to be honest. But nice to know I tricked you ;-) I really had to think hard (as I do not know the comics) if Mystique was really able to turn into an inanimate object... and then I remembered this Statue of Liberty miniature from movie 1... thanks for that, however.
Meow: Thanks. I feel a little less confident when writing Mystique, don´t know why, but nice you hear you like my portrayal of her.
PsychoSpiff: Thank you. Yup, I´ll keep going. Here you are.
Feartoxin: Hey, a new reviewer. Thanks.
Okay, here you go... read ahead and enjoy.
Chapter 12
Solo plans
The next couple of days passed without much to happen at all. The days seemed long and dull and Erik caught himself becoming uneasy and ill-tempered with himself at times as, although his recovery was now obvious, things never went fast enough on that matter. He continuously went on training his abilities, testing his powers on increasingly larger objects, observing with satisfaction that it became easier every time to control metal and also, that it did not exhaust him to the same extent as it still had a few days ago. About two weeks after Mystique´s arrival at the lair, he found he had made a sufficient amount of progress to be deeply content. Finally, after a time that seemed much longer to him than it had actually been, he began to feel like a mutant again.
Still, this was not like it had once been. Not only had the Brotherhood indeed fallen apart, even or maybe just because of Mystique´s presence, Erik felt lonelier than ever. When he had been alone or with the occasional annoying presence of John for a few days, things had somehow been easier. Now, that the blue shape shifter was around again it felt like the old days had returned in a way... and yet every time they crossed paths, Erik was once more reminded of what had happened. Every encounter with Mystique – and Erik was sure she arranged them passing by at times during the day – reminded him of what he had done when the cure had struck her down... to save him.
They did not talk much; hardly a word passed between them and as much as he missed Mystique´s company, Erik did not insist on it. He did not know what was to become of the two of them, but he was pretty sure that one reason Mystique did not simply leave was because she wanted to remind him of what he had done to her. Still, he was not sure whether this was the only reason. He could not forget about the night she had entered his room, sitting on the window sill in silence, watching the night while she thought him sleeping. She had done so before. She had come to his room at night when she had still been a teenager. She would stay for a while, some minutes, some hours, and after that silently leave for her quarters again. Erik had never let her know he had occasionally known of her presence and only pretended to sleep to not make her feel uncomfortable. He had always understood this kind of behaviour as his young friend´s need for comfort. From the few words Mystique had let slip about her family he could tell fairly early that her parents had not given her much love or comfort... so he had always silently accepted the young one´s innocent nightly visits without telling her he knew.
However, Mystique had grown up and become a woman. Their relationship had changed in many ways which included the fact that she had ceased coming to his room at night ... or at least she had stopped coming there intending not to make her presence known and seeking comfort by watching him in his sleep. Her sudden return to this old behaviour made Erik question Mystique´s true intentions. He was pretty sure she no longer planned to kill him, but he also doubted they would ever be able to behave as they had done over the last few years. As much as he was still reluctant from stepping away from his behaviour in that car convoy, he noticed with an honest regret that this very behaviour might have ruined things forever.
Since their last confrontation, Pyro had not shown up again, nor had any of his two new friends, if the girl, Shade, had not shown enough brains to return without any metal attached to her clothes, and although this might have been possible, Erik doubted John would have had enough wit to tell her how to dress ´adequatly´. He also doubted, Shade would be easily persuaded to sneak into Magneto´s Lair on her own again.
So, being sure there were no teenage spies around to report his doing to a self-announced teenage mutant gang leader, Erik had soon begun to take up serious thinking and planning again. With much time on his hand, besides his self-mentored training, he had however found there was not much he could do. The events at the laboratories had be devastating. The younger members of the Brotherhood, some of which he had had recruited only recently, were dead, vaporized by Jean and he had not had word of the others since that date. When considering reasons for this he found he could not even blame his fellow mutants. No news about the rebirth of Magneto had yet reached the world outside the island, as he was pretty sure Pyro would not have given away the secret for some reason, so the thought of letting the remains of the Brotherhood know he was still there and capable of further actions, needed to be spread first.
However, with little help at hand he knew there was no possibility of a big attack he could plan. Without the Brotherhood it would be hard to coordinate anything big. And when thinking about it... Erik had to admit to himself that he was not even sure if he, given the chance and troops, had wanted to repeat something like the attack of the laboratory at Alcatraz. Not because it had cost him his powers, not because many of his brothers and sisters had died...pawns, as he had explained to Pyro in the heat of battle... but because he knew he had underestimated the Phoenix´s destructive powers. He had wanted to unleash her fury, he had wanted her to rip the very bones of this laboratory apart, oh, how he had wanted it. But things had gotten out of hand. In these days when his powers recovered, Erik for the first time began to grasp the true impact of the war he had forseen. He did not know whether there had been any more losses on sides of the X Men, but those he had seen die had been enough. Jean had been their first pupil, and Charles had been his best friend. Their friendship had never truly stopped, although there had been much that had separated them in their later years. It was in these days of loneliness that Erik began to understand how horrible and devastating the losses had been so far.
When he fell asleep at night, his nightmares of the camps were now often replaced... instead of lines of barb wire, instead of grey faced figures barely alive and smoke rising from grey chimneys he now saw something else his mind made up to torture him: he saw the pure hatred in the Phoenix´s eyes and those almost non-existent glimpses of a desperate Jean somewhere in the depths. He saw Charles´ face, his weak body helplessly lifted from the ground, smiling at his old friend for a last time... At times he could not tell which nightmares were more of a horror as each and every one of them – those that belonged to a distant past and those that told of fresh wounds – were almost to hard to bear.
Warren Worthington II had acquired a place of honour in Erik´s now quite disarranged collection of data files a while back when rumours of the so called cure had first begun to spread. Worthington had never been careful enough to keep his identity hidden which had made it easy for Magneto´s Brotherhood to find out about him. Instead, he had preferred playing the concerned and caring father to his teenage son whom he more than anything wished to ´cure´ from his mutation, affording him a ´better life´ as he had repeatedly called it any time the microphone of any TV station had come close enough to catch his words. He was a person who loved to be the centre of public attention although with the cure being used as a weapon only a short time after it had been released for ´voluntary´ use, the aura of heroic glory that had sorrounded Warren Worthington II and that had been fed by most news magazines, had begun to wear off rapidly.
Still, although Worthington had somewhat taken a distance to his former frequent appearances on the breaking news, Erik was still sure he was the man who would earn great public interest again once it became known how unlasting the impact of the cure really was. There had been rumours about Worthington´s son whom he had named after himself in an attempt of pathos and rumour had it that there had been a split between father and son as the winged mutant had not been willing to take the cure as had been broadcasted before. It was Worthington who had developed the cure and it had been Worthington who had promoted it so Erik had quickly decided it should be Worthington who, being most guilty for the incidents that had happened in the aftermath, had to be paid back.
His plan, although it was rather small-scaled compared to earlier operations of the brotherhood would serve two purposes: if things were working fine, Erik would not only have his revenge, but also would the public, and what was even more important, former and scattered members of the Brotherhood know he was still alive... and able. The battle had been lost, the war was not yet over.
Erik was sure his powers would be sufficient of entering Worthington´s home, making his presence known and leaving again before the X Men or anyone else could put a stop on him. It was a simple and unspectacular plan and would have been easier if he could have counted Mystique in, but he did not ask her. He was sure he would not like the answer to his request and besides that during all these years he had never asked her to do something... she had always joined his plans on her own accord.
It was late afternoon when he was about to finish his work for the day. He had spent several hours in his study researching the grounds of the Worthington estate until he was sure there was no too big danger or trap ahead. Still, it felt strange and...incomplete to try and carry out plans all on his own. Dissatisfied he fell asleep around 6 p.m., forcing himself to get some rest, as he had planned his solo-operation for this very night.
When he awoke and got ready to leave, it felt even more awkward. The lair was silent when he strode through the corridors, intentionally not having put on his cloak and helmet, but leaving in his black Armani coat and hat not to rouse too much interest. He however was wearing his metal belt and boots and even apart from that was not without tools. Everything else he would find at Worthington´s place. Modern people depended on metal more than they knew he noted with a joyless smile.
When he prepared to leave and put on his gloves however, he noticed a movement from the corner of his eyes. Mystique. She watched him for a few seconds and he half expected her to ask him what he was up to. He was not able to tell what she was thinking as her face remained blank. He looked at her for a moment and was about to turn and face the door when her outer appearance changed.
"You might need a pilot to fly the helicopter" a young man dressed as an air force soldier said without the faintest smile.