She wanders through the most lonely place of the all- the world. Alone and scattered, Chris Stark is still looking for her place to be. Her mind is still in turmoil: Charles Xavier, who tricked her into a false existence, may be gone, but a small part of Strange and Hellstrom's spells still remains intact. Like now, it's like she is living two existences, she has two distinct memories of everything that had happened-and maybe even more. She is well aware of her real life, of Chris and all her masks, and she knows of what Escatado did to the bearers of the artifacts and to a whole universe. But she remembers what happened to Miss Astrid Ravensong through her whole life, even if it had been all in her mind, a construct carefully built by Charles Xavier to protect her and her offspring- only, her children aren't any longer.

Her children, they have never been. Her twins had died in her womb, but it isn't as easy as that. They had been a lie, too. And for many reasons: before Escatado remade the world as he saw fit, she had never thought that Daimon was the one for her. And also…

Also, if her instinct is correct, she may find herself in the same situation Theresa did, the same situation Wanda did. Wanda… she doesn't like Scarlett. She may respect, maybe even fear, her father, Lord Magnus, but the Maximoff twins are a whole other story- actually, all the offspring from Magneto. Something is very wrong with his children, she believes that it could very well rotten to the core. It's not that they are not normal. And obviously, it's not because they are mutants. It's just how they behave: it's like everything can be forgiven and forgotten because of their childhoods. Pietro had been the mastermind behind the House of M, Wanda had erased a whole species, and many on that day had died, finding themselves suddenly without their powers to protect them from danger, and Polaris has been a horseman of Apocalypse. But they all forgave her, because of her father, and because she had been in Genosha.

Chris… Chris was there, too. And if they think Polaris had it bad, they probably don't understand a simple fact: nobody has it as bad as a telepath. Her mutation did what was needed to keep her safe, protecting her body through an energetic cocoon, but all those screams, all those thoughts were remain forever with, such is the curse of a telepath, a power that's a blessing in disguise. Genosha will forever stay with her, she has lost count of how many sleepless nights she has spent looking outside a window, or maybe even just checking things out. During those nights, she closed herself up in her docking station, with just the thought of keeping her beloved safe and sound. Tony had even stopped trying to talk with her. Just Clint dared to enter her dominion, and yet, he didn't talk. He just stayed at her side, in silence, and offered her a cup of coffee. It was nice, and comforting, but sometimes it's her biggest regret.

It's not that people had always judged her while Clint didn't. He did, but he knew when he was supposed to lecture her and when it wasn't the time. When she was dating Pete Wisdom, she didn't want to listen to him, but with… with the rest, Clint knew how, and when, to shout his mouth. That's what she has always liked about him. He knows her better than anyone-probably better than herself, too. This is probably why she has always been so confused when he was involved; the line between affection and friendship can be thin, and often blurred, and she isn't going to lie about this: she has been attracted to him, sometimes, she still is, and she has wondered what could have been, had she chosen Clint instead of the man she is "visiting" right now.

Even if man is such a big word for him. Like visiting isn't exactly what she is doing right now. More like breaking and entering. Into the Peak State Penitentiary- a Maximum Security Prison in Virginia.

…AKA the place where Daimon Hellstorm- aka her sort of ex- is held prisoner, condemned for treason and a list of crimes so long that even with her computer-like mind she wouldn't be able to keep them all in mind. Even if, at the end, despite everything Daimon says, the truth still stays: he betrayed them all. Yes, he told the Avengers that he had gotten together with Sin's new little team of magic-seekers because better be him to have the power than someone else, but was it the truth? Everything? She doubts, and even if it was- which, again, she doubts- he is still a back-stabber. He lied and misled them. Betrayed everything their team- the Avengers- stood and stays for. In a certain sense, it's like he has betrayed her too, them. Even if, deep down, she has come to believe that he never really cared about her. She has been a nice pastime, nothing more, nothing less, and if her info and her hunch are correct, he probably never truly cared about their children, too.

She stays in front of his cell, right before the glass filled with micro force-fields, something Reed Richards projected, and nobody can see her; her mind makes her invisible to the human eye, and her secondary mutation allows her to be invisible to technology as well: were they to look at this video, they would see a blurred effect, if nothing at all.

(Maybe, if and when she'll decide to come back into the real world, she'll work on something to counter-affect her mutation. As the Xavier Protocols thought her, better safe than sorry.)

But he sees her. Maybe he still has a little magic left in him. Maybe it's because he is a demon by blood. She doesn't know. But that damn smarmy smile on his face, the same smile she wants to bust his teeth in such is Daimon's arrogance, tells her he knows she is there.

It doesn't tell her if he knows why, though.

"Ah, yes, my beloved Christine. What can I do for you, sweetheart?" Daimon asks her, as casually as they were to meet at a bar; he is leaning against the closest wall at crossed arms, in a look similar to the he had chosen the last time they saw each other. Still boots and jeans, no beard and short hair, he is back to being bare-chested, the dark red scar of the pentacle glittering and shining like a star of death.

That's when she knows that the things weren't as they were supposed to be, still aren't. He is so casual about all of this, too much. Either he is too guarded, too scared and he is wearing a well-guarded mask, or he isn't who he claims to be. Of course, there is also the possibility that he never cared about her. Wouldn't be the first time she is second best- either to money or to a beloved long lost. Like maybe a certain Hellcat aka Patsy Walker aka Daimon's suicide wife-turned resurrected ex-wife.

She has to admit, she is frightened when he is too casual always has been. And it's also when she hates him. She knows she shouldn't, mostly because the kind of history they share, but it's an urge stronger than her willpower. And it's also when she knows she has made a colossal mistake when she "accepted" to sleep with him. A choice she isn't so sure she made willingly, though, given Escatado that re-shaped the world as he saw fit and all that jazz.

Daimon just chuckles, and she doesn't say a world. Maybe there is no need to. She is pretty positive that just being in his presence gave her all the answers she needed. And it's a terrible truth: maybe she should have been stayed in the dark about all of this.

"I heard about Charles Xavier's demise between these walls. Did you know that your friend Scott stood here for a short while, too?"

Chris lifts simple an eyebrow, quizzically, at Daimon's sentence. She wonders if he was joking or if he really doesn't know her at all. Because Scott Summers has stopped being her friend a long time ago, when he cheated on one of her best friends with Emma Frost, when he exiled Xavier just to make the same mistakes his mentor did and pretend they weren't there, and mostly, when he killed Xavier, and instead of accepting punishment because he had tried to use the Phoenix, he escaped jail.

Chris stays silent, her eyes on the cold, grey floor underneath her feet. "What happened, Daimon?" she simply asks him. Direct, resolute, and yet sad. This may be the end, after all. This could change everything. And maybe, even everyone. And she isn't so sure it could be for better.

"When your brother's enemies attacked you, we thought that faking your death and erasing your mind was the best option in order to…"

"No" she says, stopping him, her eyes in his ones, her hand on her empty womb. She knows that Daimon wasn't husband material, and maybe he could have never been a dad to their children, but yet, she had had dreams. And she wanted those twins. Badly. "No, I know that. I mean… you. Us. What…" she pauses, and he sees that her eyes are teary. She may not want to hear this, it may destroy her, but yet, she needs to hear it.

Daimon takes a big breath, and he closes his eyes. Chris doesn't know what to think-if that that it seems a bad sign. Or maybe, it's just the shadow of the man she has fallen hard and quick for, reappearing for a short while. "When I first heard about the descent… the day one of the hell-lords would become the one and true Devil, I didn't know what to think. what I was supposed to make of it. I didn't know if I wanted that power, and if I did, did it make me a bad person, evil? Was it an honor for me, or a curse? I didn't know if I was supposed to fear that day, or aspire to be the one to bear that power. So I did the only think that could give me an answer."

He pauses, and even if it's just few seconds, they are the longest of her life. "I am the son of Satan. I can pretty much do whatever I want. So I used a spell, and from my blood, I created shadows of myself. I sent them out into the world, to explore the possibilities from every angle, heroes, villains, seers, spies, becoming and doing whatever free will would allow."

Daimon pauses again, and Chris barely resists sobbing. She knows what it's coming, and yet she still fears what he will say next, and what it may mean. After all, if this is the truth, what was she, then? A game, an experiment? Or maybe, even less. What he just said: just another angle.

"I think I wanted them to explore every possible facet of the coming descent. But… they were too head-strong. Or maybe too weak. Too human. Some of them didn't even believe." And when he says the words, she looks at him- really look at him, for the first time, and she sees it. The shame, but mostly, the fear, the lingering doubt. And that's when she knows.

"You don't know if you are the real Daimon Hellstorm." It's not a question. It's an affirmation. And when his mouth turns into a thin line, she knows she is right. The man she had fallen for never existed. Or maybe, it's not this one.

"I may be a copy. A flawed one, when I think about how far I have fallen." His eyes are at the soil- it's kind of a new look. She doesn't know what to think, what to say, but there is something that hits her as strongly and painfully as a lightning bolt. It's memory and knowledge, something she didn't live, didn't see with her own two eyes. And yet, she has read all about it. It had been in the Avengers files, and even if people told her to mind her own business, that it didn't matter any longer, Chris Stark always liked to know in advance what she was supposed to deal with. She isn't a gal for contingent plane- but planes. And if Wanda… if her reincarnated twins could be a threat…

Her children weren't exactly her own, but just a construct of her power, stolen souls that could have never been because their father didn't have flesh and blood, but metal and circuits. Just like this man right before her. Only, this Daimon Hellstorm is made of living magic and darkness. And that's why her children couldn't be. As their father's power diminished, they… they just were no more. And he knows. Maybe he always did. That's why he didn't ask her what was wrong, why she was there, or what had happened to her children-their children.

"I know that I have hurt many, and I resent myself for this. I am honestly sorry for how things played between the two of us, but…" he pauses, gulping down a mouthful of saliva, and then he is yet again staring into her dark eyes. "But maybe, given the circumstances, you should consider yourself lucky. Without them… and me… you are now free of any infernal obligation. It would seem we are safest right now."

She cringes, and she feels like exploding. If she wasn't supposed to keep her powers in check in order to stay hidden, she would free him just to hurt him. He deserves it, after all. She thought he was different. She thoughts he has changed. But yet again she has been wrong. She is always wrong, when it comes to men.

Shaking her head with a sad, cynic and resigned smile, her eyes shining white, she turns and leave, chuckling in disbelief- Daimon isn't the only one who has fallen so far, it seems. "Makes me a favor, Daimon" she tells him, turning to face the man she thought she loved one last time. "When you hit rock bottom… forget about me."

And then, she leaves, in the darkness and anonymity she has entered, her powers a hiding cape keeping her safe, for now. In body, but not in soul. Her spirit is weak, saw too many battles, took too many hits. Sometimes she doubts she could ever be again that girl who faced the robbers in that bank when she was just a teenager looking for attention. Sometimes she even doubts that she'll eventually get to fall asleep easily again, like a newborn baby.

As she sets foot outside, the cold air of the night hits her, and she shakes her head again. This is not what she should think about. There is so much time she lost… it's time to make up for it, and come back right to the start.

She lifts her gaze, watching in awe at the stars. Tonight, her family, her friends, are under the same sky. This is consolation enough. And reassurance that, somewhere, there is still a place for her.