markedformore | (no subject)

Entry tags:

billy,
debut

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In the depths of his mind, he can hear his mother’s voice as though given to him by the heavens above. He can feel the brushes of Charles’ interference, but the memory is brought up from the depths of a truly cold sea of rage and reminds him of the boy he used to be before he’d fallen prey to men and their so-called better race.

How is it that nothing has changed? How have they suffered so many atrocities and yet still proclaim to be the ‘better race’.

There is a striking similarity in his feelings towards the government as he had once felt about his oppressors. They fear them. They fear them because they do not understand and eventually that fear boils into something darker and deeper. Eventually, it is hate. Erik is well-aware that his own hate is fuelled of something far more righteous and based in love, not fear. He feels that rage dying away, his hands agrip with power as he focuses upon a satellite too big for any man to move on his own.

In the place of rage and with great slowness, the memory begins to remind him of the boy he once was. He thinks of candles and the joy of family around him. He thinks of finding a light in the dark and of his mother’s loving smile. She would have done anything for him.

This revenge, this plot that Charles knows about -- what do you know about me? everything -- and yet allows him to continue training as though one day he will simply change his mind. This revenge is for her. He will do anything for her, as well.

His fingers tremble and he focuses his attention harder as the memory surfaces happy emotions that he’d once thought long-lost. He focuses on this recollection that he had thought abandoned and watches as the satellite begins to turn towards them slowly. Slowly, slowly, but eventually, it gives and Erik feels a sudden burst of pride and hope and determination. If he can do this, then Shaw will no longer stand in his way. The sheer fury coupled with Erik’s abilities will permit him to be better than any mutant has ever been let to be. He will be better and he will take Shaw’s life.

Of these two things, he is sure.

Dimly, he is aware of Charles’ voice.

Thank you for sharing that with me.

He can’t be sure whether Charles has spoken those words or merely murmured them in Erik’s mind. When he closes his eyes momentarily to focus on the fleeting echo of the happy memory (before it fades away in the face of cool determination, as it is bound), he thinks he can almost smell the wax of the candles and the burn of the flame.

He opens his eyes in order to stem out the memory of the candles, but what he finds is that he’s gone from the intangible to the literal. He’s staring at an array of candles as dishes collide and cause a cacophony of noise. Charles is not there (certainly not in his head) and Erik looks around him warily to find people dining with their cutlery, their plates heavy on the table.

He searches out a source of metal, the nearest he can find, and with tears still staining his cheeks, he tries his damnedest to move it. Nothing happens. He uncovers a great well of anger and tries again, teeth gritted together in sheer stubborn determination. He’s just moved a mountain and now cannot even affect a molehill.

Erik heeds little of the attention around him, cursing under his breath in his native tongue, before trying just once more. “Move!” he snaps, his patience growing short. Nothing responds to him and, worse than that, he feels as though he is disconnected from the abilities that have been with him through everything. He fights to strangle back the choked feeling in his throat as an overwhelming feeling of powerlessness overtakes him.

The ink on his arm seems to burn and he feels, once more, trapped – helpless. Surrounded. He will not simply sit back this time. If he must fight without his powers, he will find a way. History will not repeat itself, not here in this strange place. He storms forward to the burning candles and snuffs one out with nothing more than a lick of his fingertips, searching around him for an answer.

“Tell me,” he demands of a passing young man, grasping at the fabric of his shirt to fully gain his attention. “What’s happened? Where am I?”

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Erik's face falls.

Of all the things to be disappointed in, he's alarmed that he's so dismayed that he hasn't got a friend here who understands him thoroughly. Maybe it's just that Charles has seen everything -- the good and the bad -- and often is such a smart bloke, when he's not being a naive idiot. Having him here would be a help. As it is, it looks like Erik will have to fend for himself. "I need to find a central base of information," he says, hardening once more as a goal presents itself to him.

Billy wanted to say he understood what it was like to be alone here, and while he'd had Kate at first, then Teddy, they'd both left. Having new friends and having the Avengers wasn't the same - they didn't know Billy the way Kate, Teddy and the others had.

"Yeah, I can take you. There's a council here and they have an office with a whole bunch of information, but it's a bit of a walk to the main compound."

Erik's unsure as to whether he'd like to present himself before a Council, especially when he knows so little of the place. Even if Billy seems to be aware of the abilities of people like him, it's not something that will protect him. He flexes his fingers again and searches for the coin on his person.

He can't move it. It remains there heavy and unmoving, a reminder of all the things he's lost and gained -- and lost again, it seems. "Family trait, you said. Your parents, they had magic, as well?"

"My mother did," he said with a nod, and headed toward the door of the Winchester, looking over his shoulder to make sure he was being followed. "So did my uncle, and my twin brother. And our grandfather, it started with his mutation, I guess."

There's finally something he can focus on. It's like the winter's thaw come early as Erik smiles, warm and almost kind. "You're a mutant too, then," he thinks aloud. He doesn't fully understand Charles' science on the matter, but the thought that it's genetic is too hard to ignore. "If your grandfather had magic and your mother, then the gene is in you, as well."

There's warmth and pride, full acceptance brimming in him as though nothing else has ever mattered.

He couldn't help but smile, unused to hearing such simple acceptance of his powers. Over the years, all Billy had ever heard was he was too young, he needed to be careful, everyone hated him and his kind.

"My mother did, but not my grandfather," he clarified. "Or my brother or uncle. I'm not sure why there was variety in the powers themselves, but we all do have the gene."

"And what could you do?" It's the natural question and it's the one they've been asking no matter where they are in the country. 'What can you do?' Erik always thinks to add 'what can you do for us?' and more selfishly in the short-term, for him, as well.

"Simply put, magic," Billy replied with shrug. "I don't really know how to describe it, but I could just want something, and it would happen. I was still getting a hang of everything, I only discovered my powers when I was fifteen."

"It's a common age for it." Erik had been younger and he had thought, at the time, that he had been too young. When you're put through the crucible, however, there is no 'too young'. It simply means you grow up far quicker. "Where you're from, are you accepted? Are mutants equal to the lesser form?"

Billy wasn't sure how to answer at first, and his hesitation showed. He didn't like the term lesser form, and had to remember that appearance and family aside, this was still a young Magneto he was talking to.

"For the most part," he decided on. "One day we're loved and the next day we're hated. It's been that way since before I was born."

"And you're from my future, you say," Erik says, justified in some way that he had been right about the humans and despairing that he was. How can Charles still think that optimism is the way of the future when they will never, ever learn? "How far, how far in the future, when it was 1962 for me."

This was the weird part; at least with most people around, the difference in time are only in years, not decades.

"2008," he said, and couldn't help the apologetic look accompanying his reply.

Erik exhales sharply. That's not even close to what he'd thought it might be. Ten years, twenty perhaps, but over forty? It's terrifying to think of such a difference. "Well, then, I'm an old codger by your time. Old enough to be your grandfather," he jokes, considering he looks quite youthful.

"Yeah," Billy said, drawing out the syllable as he brushed his hair out of his face. He couldn't really look at Erik (Magneto? Grandfather? God, this was going to be confusing.) yet, unsure of the reaction he wanted from him when he let a pretty big bomb drop.

It wasn't every day someone got to meet their future grand kid, after all. (And again, he wished desperately Tommy were there next to him.)

"See, you...kind of are. My grandfather." He dared a look up, and gave him an apologetic look. "Surprise?"

What's the expected reaction to such news? Erik honestly can't say. At the moment, he's limited to speechlessness as he gapes at Billy and searches him for familial traits, wondering which of the very few women that he's known might be the boy's grandmother. He has a suspicion that he knows, but he hasn't seen her in so long.

He'd put a life aside to pursue Shaw.

He takes a step forward, the shock still evident on his face, but sheer emotion and desperation overpowers him as he pulls Billy closer into an embrace, one hand pressed firmly to his back and the other to that mess of hair. "You're my grandson?" he echoes, aware that he ought to be slightly wary of such news, but the possibility of his lineage continuing far too hopeful a thing to ignore.

He'd hoped for that sort of reaction, but Billy hadn't really been expecting it. He tensed in the sudden hug, before relaxing when he realized that he wasn't about to be called crazy.

It was weird. It was really, really weird.

"I am," he said, voice muffled slightly. "It's just me here, but there's Tommy back home, too."

Erik only releases Billy when he believes that he may be embracing him too firmly, causing problems in breathing when Erik is merely trying to clasp onto one of the only things that has ever calmed him so thoroughly -- the promise of family. "I didn't think that I would ever have family again," he confesses.

Charles is as close as he's come, but even then Erik worries that the splinter formed by their differing beliefs will eventually cause a chasm.

"Well, you do," Billy said, at a loss for anything else to add on the topic. Maybe if he'd had time to prepare for this he wouldn't have had to sound like such a dumbass. "Sorry if it's a shock, it's not exactly the way I pictured a family reunion."

Erik's been on the edge of a terrible front of emotion since Charles pulled it from him and this news has only rendered him incapable of putting into words how he feels about all this (any of this). He struggles forward, but only to pull Billy into a close embrace once more, fighting to keep composed. "Your parents? Did you have them as you grew up? Were you alone?" he asks, hoping that Billy didn't have to grow up as he did.

How to explain that in a way that didn't make him sound insane? Going into the whole story would involve a lot of explanation, a belief in magic, and probably a lot of alcohol on Magneto's part, but Billy settled for the simplest one.

"Yes and no. I mean, I was kind of adopted, but I was never alone. I have amazing parents. It's only been about a year or two since I knew about "

It helped that it was true.

"I'm glad that you didn't grow up alone," Erik says with a furrow in his forehead, a line that spoke of having to suffer through being Billy's age on his own without someone to guide him -- and only his revenge to steer him. "It's something I would never want, for my family -- for them to be lonely."

"I can definitely say I've never been lonely," Billy assured him. He didn't know about Tommy; even after he'd joined the Avengers, Tommy never said much about his past, as though them finding him in a juvenile detention center in Jersey explained it all. Billy couldn't really blame him.

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