It was exactly as she remembered it. It felt so odd being here, after so much time had passed, and all that had occurred.

The last time she had been inside The Citadel was the day she left, feeling this voice inside her telling her that she couldn't help Erik, that the help he needed she couldn't provide.

Ah know now who that voice really was.

It made her sad yet nostalgic, walking into this place. A place that had once held such happy memories for her. Now it sat collecting dust, vacant, no longer full of the life and joy that had once been.

She knew the layout like she had always lived here, every room familiar to her.

She walked through the library, the shelves of books untouched, appearing to have been sitting there all this time.

The furniture, the walls, the floors, the signs of non-use were there.

Did he abandon it after ah left?

That thought made her stomach churn. It had been her home as much as his. Their home.

There were parts of the Citadel that appeared in disarray, and she didn't know if it had been Erik's doing, or if someone had tried to loot it.

Don't think they found anythin'.

She continued on, holding her breath as she realized where her feet were carrying her.

The bedroom that they had shared.

She hesitated, not sure if she should open the door, and look upon the room where they had spent so many nights and mornings together.

Taking a deep breath, her curiosity getting the better of her, she pushed the door open, and when she walked inside, memories flooded forth.

The large bed was still unmade, and she recalled several nights where the covers were thrown off because of how hot it was, not to mention the heat of passion between them, the sounds of pleasure he had elicited from her with his hands and mouth….

She shook herself.

For God's sake, get a grip. Stop fantasizin' and figure out a way out of here, girl.

She figured there had to be something here that would help her get out of the Savage Lands, or at least find a way to locate Erik.

She looked around on the first floor, not exactly sure what she was looking for, really. She half-expected to find some sort of technology similar to Cerebro.

Wouldn't that be ironic.

Her search eventually led her to his study, a secluded little office that he had used sometimes, all his private books and belongings that he kept here.

Her eyes were drawn to a series of journals on a shelf, and she wondered…

No, that's an invasion of privacy. Isn't it? But….what if there's somethin' in there that will help me get home?

Home. That word kept being repeated. What was home to her now?

She shook herself, and slowly reached for one journal, looking at the dates and scanning over his meticulous handwriting.

Ah half expected it to be in German.

She was scanning for any mention of something that he would have here to help her find him….

….but what she found instead caught her attention.

The entries shifted from observations and reports about The Citadel and the surrounding terrain, to suddenly more….poetic.

He was writing about her.

17 June

She's making much better progress. I must admit I am pleasantly surprised at her wit. She is far more observant and has a craving for knowledge than I originally anticipated.

She soaked up every word, reading his thoughts.

24 June

She is extremely interested in what I had to say about a mutant nation. Her eyes sparkle when she's fully invested, it's quite adorable.

She smiled at that little comment.

She has insights that I hadn't thought of before. I suppose that's the beauty of seeing the world through a different perspective. Hers is so innocent, yet she speaks as if she has lived a lifetime.

She kept reading, wondering what else he had to say.

The last entry in the last book on the shelf had her catching her breath.

7 August

Tonight she found my little studio, the curious little thing. She asked me to paint something for her. How could I refuse such a request? Judging from her reaction, she was not expecting me to choose her as the subject of my art. She sat for the painting, that blush I have come to adore on her cheeks as she fought her nervousness, her confidence and beauty shining through.

The painting did not do her justice. But she was truly pleased with it, which was all the encouragement I required.

I will never forget the look on her face as I took her hand. The sensation of touch is still so new to her, after so long hiding away from the world. It was a simple gesture, one that I must admit I didn't think about, a gesture meant to show affection. Her face told me everything. There was a desire for this kind of affection, a desire to feel these things that are so often taken for granted by others. But not by her. But there was also a hesitation, something I couldn't argue with. She is innocent, young, vibrant. Too pure for one such as me. She deserves far more than I can give, even if I so desire to give her all that I am able.

Perhaps one day I will tell her-

The page ended. There were no more pages in the journal, and she felt a bit ridiculous.

Serves me right, readin' his private thoughts.

But the thought of this being the last entry didn't make sense. The date was one she remembered well, the day he had first painted her.

More like what happened that night ah remember well….surely he has another one somewhere. Maybe there's somethin' else in it besides what he wrote about me?

She looked all over the office, finding nothing. Wherever the next journal was, it wasn't here.

Where would he have put it?