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Eric Magnus Lehnsherr, formerly known as 'Magneto', stood outside the gate to the Xavier School, waiting to be let in. When he had been confronted by the guards, he had mustered up every iota of dignity that remained in his body to face them down. Once upon a time, he could have destroyed this gate with but a single thought, and he would not now be cowed by the likes of them. He had seen horrors the likes of which they had never known, and never would - nothing could scare him.
When the Headmistress herself appeared to greet him, he almost felt honoured.
"You are not welcome here," Storm said by way of greeting.
"I come to pay my respects," he countered.
"Don't lie to me, 'Eric'," she spoke his name as if it were an insult - which it had become on the lips of anyone save one man, a man who would never again speak it. "You don't respect anybody in here."
"My respects to the deceased," he clarified, watching with pleasure as she swallowed whatever words she had been about to throw at him.
He resisted the urge to grin as she looked to the mutants around her, including Wolverine who stood hovering by her shoulder, and with obvious reluctance, signaled them to let him through the gate. He did let a smile through as he passed her, tipping his hat in her direction as he walked by, following the guards that had been assigned as his escort around the side of the school and into the rear courtyard.
His steps faltered as he caught his first glimpse of the three headstones that stood together. He closed his eyes briefly, gaining control of his faculties before continuing on his way. He forced his attention away from the largest headstone and instead started on the far left, standing before the marker engraved with the name 'Jean Grey'. He noted the guards backing away, giving him the dignity of dealing with his grief without an obvious audience.
Jean. His brilliant, beautiful Jean. His little spark that had grown into a flame, eventually turning into a blaze that had taken out so many in its path, including... He remembered her as she had been when he and Charles had first met her, young and impressionable, yet always with a will of her own. Eric and Charles ran the school together then, and they had come to see Jean as their daughter, more so than any other student in their care. It was as if his and Charles' powers had combined to create someone so incredibly powerful. They had fought so, Charles wanting to control her abilities while Eric wished to set them free - if they had only known how their differences of opinion would tear them apart.
He took a deep breath and laid a cool hand on the top of the headstone. "Farewell, daughter of my heart," he said, closing his eyes in remembrance one last time before moving on.
Scott Summers. The man himself held no great significance to Eric, but he had been loved by both Jean and Charles, and for that he deserved a moment of Eric's attention. He had also worked in his own way toward the cause of mutant rights and freedoms, and for that he had also earned Eric's respect. He nodded in acknowledgment before steeling himself for the last stone.
Charles Xavier. There, engraved upon a metal plate, was the profile Eric had come to know so well. There was the nose he had often kissed, if only to watch it crinkle in annoyance. There was the hairless skin that his fingers had sought out, tracing along in fascination at how sensitive it was to Charles' senses. There were the lips he had known intimately in every way possible.
Charles had been his friend, lover, and confidant for more years than he could count. Even after their beliefs had divided them, none other could even come close to taking Charles' place, and thus Eric had never stopped thinking of him as such. Even when Eric had been captured and kept in a hard plastic cell, Charles had visited him regularly. Sometimes they would play chess, at others they would talk as if the last several years had never happened. All it would take would be a simple smile or the meeting of their eyes for the years to just slip away, leaving behind a younger Charles and a younger Eric, still fumbling their way through the first steps of their love, but always knowing they were meant to be at each others side.
Even now, Eric felt more at home before this marker than anywhere else in the world.
His emotions became so overwhelming that Eric was forced to his knees. He reached out, needing to touch the engraved face, needing some connection to the man that had kept him sane, that had given him a reason to go on when all had seemed hopeless.
"Oh, Charles, why did it have to be this way?" his voice rasped, the words grating at his throat. "Why couldn't you have just listened to me?"
/But I did listen,/ he could almost hear Charles' voice in his mind. /I listened to every word. I simply disagreed. And now look what's happened./
But Charles never truly understood, Eric argued to himself. Charles had never known the pain of having one's identity stripped away to nothing but a tattoo on one's arm, a number to replace a name that would have made him all too human. He never knew the torture of hearing the dying scream in the showers, knowing that he might be next. He never saw those he loved being tortured and killed, all because they were different.
Eric had vowed to himself never to be a victim again - not him or anyone like him. Charles had never understood how fast the seeds of hatred grew. Eric had to do something to protect their kind, even Charles who had always been so powerful and self-reliant - *especially* Charles. Eric had done what he must, content knowing that Charles would be all the safer for his efforts, no matter how he fought them.
Until now, that is.
His chest constricted, knowing he had a part in the chain of events that had led to Charles' death. He continued to wonder if there was something he could have done to stop it... but such thoughts were best left to the past. However, no amount of dismissal could take away his regrets and his deep grief over the consequences of his choices.
He ignored the heat seeping into his pants' leg from the eternal flame that would forever grace Charles' monument. His fingers traced along every line, every angle, imagining for just a moment that Charles was there with him, feeling his love surround him, enveloping him with a peace he had yet to truly know.
No longer able to resist his most powerful emotions, Eric broke down, hanging onto the cold headstone as he gave his grief release.
~*~*~*~
"Now there's a sight I never thought I'd see," Wolverine said from his vantage point on the second floor, watching the man-formerly-known-as-Magneto succumb to a torrent of tears.
"You weren't here in the years before the Split," Storm said with a shrug. "They used to run the school together, until their differences of opinion drove them apart and forced us to choose between them. They were parents to those that had none, and second parents to those that did."
"Yeah, I'm sure he helped tuck you in at night, too," Wolverine said sarcastically.
"No, but whenever we were upset with nightmares, they allowed us to crawl into their bed and lie between them."
Wolverine opened his mouth to speak, then paused. "*Their?*"
Storm nodded. "There is much you don't know, and much that will remain a secret forever. But I will tell you this - shortly after telling me his wish for me to run the school, the Professor made me promise something - that no matter what happens, he wishes to be buried next to Eric so they may be united in death where they couldn't be in life."
Wolverine shrugged, let out a huff of breath, and turned around to stalk out of the room. When Storm looked back outside, she noticed Eric was gone and decided to inspect the area, just in case he had laid some sort of trap.
Her search proved fruitless, and she was instinctively led before Professor Xavier's headstone. Lately, she had found herself coming here to think, as if she could still come to him and ask for advice. However, as she looked over the headstone, something felt wrong. She looked it over several times before she finally realized what she had at first missed.
The engraving of Xavier's face had originally been done to look serious, but kind and benevolent. Now, however, his face wore a smile the likes of which Storm had not seen since the days he and Eric had shared quarters at the school.
This could mean but one thing.
"Close up the school and don't let him leave!" she screamed into the air, her voice carrying on the wind. However, a moment later, a guard came to tell her that it was too late. Eric had already left and was past detection.
"What is it? I could have heard you a mile away," Wolverine cried, coming to a stop next to her.
"It seems 'The Cure' is only temporary," she said, pointing at the headstone. "Magneto's back!"
As her hands balled up into fists, she silently vowed never to let that man get away again - even if it meant planting a new headstone next to Xavier's.
The End.