They were idiots.

Who on Earth was stupid enough to put him in a plastic, concrete, and glass cell and then use metal handcuffs?

Honestly, humans.

He flicked his wrist, slamming guards into whatever wall they happened to be closest to.

They were far too pathetic to waste his effort on them, certainly not worth the effort of crushing their spines.

One guard did manage to shoot at him.

Erik just let the bullet fall a meter from his face.

Then he started shooting plastic bullets. Bothersome, but that was where the battle ended.

Metal peeled itself off from the wall, pulled the man into the said wall, and wrapped around his throat without a break of Erik's pace. Maybe he would find a way to escape, maybe he would die. Erik had no preference.

He flicked his hand, tearing a hole in the wall. It was mid-March outside and they were in Alaska. The cold ensured no one would be alert, even if this happened to be the most heavily guarded wall in the facility. It was not. 

Only five soldiers stood by.

They sounded the alarm, but it was too late for them.

He threw them into the ceiling. Why were they so utterly inefficient as to wear metal armor? Did humans have no common sense these days?

Still walking at the same pace, Erik strode through the barren hallways.

Several humans attempted to stop him.

None succeeded.

He stopped in front of the door.

He opened the door without moving. He saw his target, the reason he lowered himself to levels of being captured. She was barely awake. 

Then she saw Erik.

"Took you long enough."

"I thought you were dead."

He imagined seeing Emma Frost alive many times. But that had been decades ago when he was a different man. Most of those imaginings had included emotions from both of them. 

Then she had proved she was alive the first time. She escaped Trassk Industries, and their reunion was a bit rushed.

This time, there were none of those emotions. 

In their time apart, he had almost forgotten the White Queen of the Hellfire Club was also the most ruthless and cold-hearted woman he knew, and he knew Mystique.

His head tilted up, removing Emma's bonds and the various pieces of equipment she was hooked up to.

"I did too."

"Are your powers still active?"

"I won't be much use during our escape attempt. The drugs take hours to wear off. How did you find out I was alive then?"

Straight to business.

He could appreciate that.

"I ran into research files of you, their attempts to create a telepath strong enough to fight Charles. They tried to get me alive, I figured I might as well turn it into an opportunity."

"They seemed to have failed." Even drugged, bloody, and injured in ten other ways, she looked elegant as she pulled herself into a walking position. "From what I have heard, becoming more powerful than Xavier is outside of even my current skills."

As usual, Emma Frost was right.

"Shall we go?"

She smiled, accepting his hand. And leaning on it quite a lot. He actually had to put in strength to keep her upright. She was also limping.

No matter.

The men holding her were not even a threat to Erik. They had been prepared to take Emma, to take a telepath and fill them with enough drugs to clog up their system. The same did not apply to an angry Magneto.

"Why did you come for me, Erik?" she asked once they were walking to the plane he borrowed from a nearby airfield.

No point in lying.

"The Hellfire Club has become a problem. I need to tighten my grip on them. I neglected to worry about their human connections."

"I always did wonder why you underestimated them."

Nice of her to voice those concerns when it would have been helpful. If he was not seeing his… well, friend was not quite the word, but coworker did not describe everything the telepath meant to him. If he was not seeing her for the first time in quite some time of believing her dead, he would voice his irritation.

As it was, he was almost happy she was here.

"How would you feel about taking your place as the White Queen once again?"

She smiled that smile that suggested severe bodily harm for someone. "That sounds like a wonderful idea, Magneto."

He had briefly pondered on exactly what they had done to her. Would she be capable of handling so much immediately? Those words were exactly what he wanted. They were Emma's best-case scenario after over a year of torture and experimentation.

Rage.

Anger.

Vengeance.

A desire to watch the world burn.

And no problem snapping the necks of anyone who got in her way.

Otherwise known as the perfect person to help wrangle the Hellfire Club into what it always should have been. Something that could pull political strings in ways he never could.

Yes, she would need time to adjust.

She would need time to heal. He would give her that time, but when she was done, the dawn of an era free from mutant persecution was coming. An era where his daughter could live without the pain he had suffered over and over and over.

The pair stepped inside his stolen jet.

Emma sat down immediately, panting slightly. He hated seeing a mutant like this, but there was no way to force drugs to leave her system. Nothing except time could heal.

He made no comment on the way her eyes looked different.

There were dark circles around her eyes, and not from exhaustion. She did not appear to be in danger of death from the withdrawal of that disgusting Kick, she could always fight it with her diamond form if necessary, but… it would take time.

He distinctly noted how the entire complex was still standing. Creed Financial's off-site facility was still standing. The complex they used to experiment on his kind was still standing. No one was dead, no one who hurt Emma Frost for over a year was dead.

She was halfway to unconsciousness against a wall now that she no longer had to fight to stay awake. She knew she was perfectly safe. Erik had no intention of hurting her or letting anyone else hurt her. He needed her expertise.

She would not care, he knew that.

And tomorrow would be his daughter's birthday.

Perhaps he would let them live after all. Lorna would turn one year old tomorrow. It should be a day of life, not death and destruction. His way of giving her a gift despite being half a continent apart.

Then again, they had turned the elegance and control of Emma Frost into a mess of pain and suffering.

He tightened his fist to resist destroying the entire base.

When he got the news, Erik dropped the phone.

Fortunately, it was magnetic and small. He caught it on pure muscle memory. 

His hand was shaking when he put it to his ear again. Plane crash. Arnold and Suzanna Dane. I'm her aunt, all pounded in his head.

"Did Lorna survive?" was all he could ask, the metal in the room clattering as he tried to keep from demolishing the Brotherhood's safe haven.

"She wasn't there. They left her with Suzanna's brother, but he's not fit to care for a child this long. Suzanna once told me that this number was a last resort if Lorna's life was ever in danger. Can I ask who you are?"

Oh, how he wished he could tell the truth.

"They had an argument a few months before their marriage. I'm Lorna's father."

Hearing Suzanna was dead was… sad, but not horribly tragic. She feared mutants, he knew the difference between fear of Magneto because of his crime and fear of his mutancy. She had the latter. She was also engaged and had neglected to mention it. 

Suzanna was nothing more than the mother of his daughter and the last woman he intended to ever have sex with again.

Hearing his daughter was orphaned, now that was different.

"Oh… wow. That's…"

"I can't have this conversation on a phone line. Is she with you?"

"I'm going to pick her up tomorrow."

"When you get back, I will be there."

He hung up.

No one else was here. They were on missions or living their happy lives. 

He was alone.

Alone so no one would hear every piece of metal in the area to find itself in a cyclone around the most powerful mutant alive as he let his emotions loose. 

He screamed.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"You're Magneto."

She had just put her niece to sleep. Erik had no intention of dealing with a crying baby on top of a probably panicking human. He had just waited near her house—of course, he managed to track her down, he was not incompetent—until she could talk.

He did not care how she perceived him. Around humans, he had two strategies.

He had never spoken in his natural accent before, not since leaving Haifa for New York. He spoke the truth, littered with notes from life in Germany, a Displaced Person camp, Israel, and South America.

"Yes."

"You're my niece's biological father."

"Yes."

"How long have you known?"

"I found out when Suzanna was six months pregnant. Her husband spoke to me after the baby was born. That is the end of our contact."

She took a moment to collect herself. "If anyone finds out she's your daughter… it would be the end of her life."

He nodded. "Including Lorna herself."

He had already given this chance to raise her once. He had another chance; he could do it. He could watch her grow into a woman…

But he could not.

He could not be selfish.

"I can't raise her. She would never have a real life. She doesn't deserve that." She deserved the world he would create. That was the life she deserved. Not a life of fighting. She would not have to be a fighter. "She will be a mutant, you do know that?"

"I figured as much." Arnold's sister closed her eyes for just an instant. "Do you want to meet your daughter?"

His daughter.

He nodded weakly. He was supposed to be the leader of the mutant cause. And… now he was almost crying.

No.

He had to fight it.

She walked inside the house. Not very large, but not small either. Not very notable, but he could never keep an eye on it. Whether it would be the government or any other enemy, they could hurt her here.

"She's asleep now, but… are you okay?"

Lorna was… god, she looked…

The metal around him began to shake. Only slightly, but enough. His forcefields were under his control, they were harder to create than just mere movements of metal.

He pulled them out to stop himself from destroying her house.

She was beautiful.

He walked towards her slowly, making sure each step was silent as to not wake her from her sleep.

Her aunt stayed still, deathly still. He knew that fear. It was fear of Magneto. He did not care. Nothing else mattered right now. His daughter was sleeping so… so peacefully.

For the first time in… years, decades, maybe, he felt warm water sliding down his cheek.

His emotions were out of his control.

His daughter was… she was there. Alive. She was not the sweetness of Wanda or the innocence of Anya. She was a different person. Lorna. Such a beautiful name. He pretended its beauty was why Suzanna and Arnold couldn’t wait for a proper naming appropriate for a Jewish girl.

For a brief moment, he considered it. He had not considered it since first meeting Charles. It had not crossed his mind since his best friend was inside his mind those decades ago.

He truly considered what it would take to raise his daughter instead of fighting.

It would mean dooming mutantkind.

The best thing he could do for her was create a world she could live freely.

She was beautiful. Beautiful, flawless. Her green eyes just… she got those from her mother. Her hair was an odd color of black, he just knew it would affect her mutant powers.

Words of Hebrew escaped his lips in a whisper. When was the last time he prayed? Spoke in Hebrew? Not conversationally with Israelis, but the language of prayer he still remembered after all this time?

His mother and father had both uttered these words countless times. It was not a song, not a hymn. It was their pleas they would be safe, their pleas Erik would be safe, and he understood why they could have kept their faith after everything. Lorna's breaths were a gift from Adonai. He could not keep that faith, but he could understand. The whispers, he told himself, were for them. Not because he was begging a god he had given up on so long ago to keep his daughter safe, to keep her free from harm. To protect her, to guide her. To spare her from the fate that took Anya. No, the whispers, he told himself, were for his parents and for their love.

"Hashkiveinu Adonai Eloheinu l’shalom,
v’ha’amideinu malkeinu l’hayyim. Ufros
aleinu sukkat sh’lomekha. … U-sh’mor
tzeteinu u-vo’einu l’hayim u-l’shalom mei’ata
v’ad olam. Barukh atah Adonai, ha-poreis
sukkat shalom, aleinu v’al kol amo yisrael,
v’al y’rushalayim."

Then he finished. 

He finished the prayer for protection throughout the night.

He forced himself not to touch his daughter, pushing the tears back. Pushing everything back, back behind his walls. For Lorna, for mutants, he could not afford to let his emotions get the best of him. 

"She deserves a parent who can be there for her." And the next words shattered him again. "I know she isn't your blood, but can you…" He was sentencing himself to never see her again, not as her father, again. The first time, she was inside her mother's womb with no guarantee she would survive the birth. Now… he felt only love towards her.

"I can." Her voice sounded strong, determined. "I'll raise her. She is my niece, whatever her DNA may say."

A flurry of emotions hit him, all at once.

The metal around him began to shake again before he regained control. It took far too long; his daughter's aunt was not oblivious enough to not notice.

He believed her name was Amaya.

"Thank you, Amaya."

But she was in the Houston suburbs.

It was the opposite of safe for a mutant, much less Magneto's daughter.

"We can't stay here, can we?"

"I… I can arrange for somewhere farther away from people. A farm or something similar."

Telling anyone to move to a farm just made him sound mean.

"I've always wanted a farm." Well. They were different people. "I can move to the middle of nowhere for her. I will treat her like my own daughter. I swear on my life. But I have one condition, Magneto."

"Magnus."

"What?"

"It was an alias of mine. Few know it is the name of Magneto as well. It's safer that way."

"I still have one condition."

The next words were so utterly true he barely recognized them when he said them. "Anything."

"Don't recruit her. Don't let her join whatever you're planning. Even if she comes to you, don't let her. Guide her off that path, keep her safe, but don't let her follow your path. Don't make Lorna a killer."

"I promise."

This was a promise he could make.

It was a promise he knew he could make. A promise he knew he could keep.

"What do I have to do to get off the grid? I doubt this is your first round in hiding."

He did not reply to what may have been a quip and may have been a perfectly legitimate comment. "Start a kitchen fire. Burn down this house, burn any evidence they might be able to use to track you down. Decide to move to the country instead of staying here now that your home is gone. Don't allow anyone to as much as suspect it was arson. When you arrive at the farm, get comfortable. Don't be paranoid for no reason. Make friends. The time to be paranoid is after everyone trusts you. I can help you move anything you wouldn't have with you on a normal day, and we can replace the rest."

Her hesitation was brief.

"Okay. Where will the farm be?"

"I don't own land anywhere. I do have connections. Perhaps Indiana?" Where were American farms anyway?

"Yeah, I'll take that up with your connections."

He said nothing in reply, his eyes still trained on Lorna.

"Please… tell my daughter she is loved."

"Of course."

"This has to be my last time with her. If anyone sees me, you will be questioned."

"Only if they recognize you. You still can't be in her life, but perhaps you could see her as my 'friend.'"

"Thank you."

There was nothing else to say.

Amaya seemed to disagree.

"Does it change anything? For you?"

"I have a daughter. This changes everything."

"I mean in your… lifestyle." She paused, saying the next words with steel. "Terrorism."

He briefly remembered she was a human. She would understand better when Lorna grew up, but for now, she had no idea. She understood less than Charles's X-Men did.

He stood a little taller. His tears were gone. The love he felt towards Lorna was a protective love. He had to protect her. Had to create an age where she could live without fear. "I want to create a world where my daughter does not have to suffer like I did."

"I'm surprised you didn't say you aren't a terrorist."

"Terrorism and evil are not the same thing. I accept the title if it will mean mutant liberation.”

He allowed himself one more long look at his baby.

"I should go. What would you like the farm? I need a guideline on who I should ask."

She thought it over for a second. "California. I've always wanted to live there."

Humans.

What was the big thing with California? He had lived there for a bit, and it was nothing special.

Not any worse than the rest of America but certainly no better.

"I'll contact you when the arrangements are made. Be ready."

She nodded. For a human, she was strong. She had made no move to make herself appear smaller or anything most humans, and often mutants, did around him despite being afraid. She would raise Lorna well.

"I will. Is there anything else?"

He looked at Lorna one more time, then went to eye contact with Amaya.

"That will be all. If you or her ever need anything, you know how to contact me. I'll be there."

"Okay." She did not falter.

The door opened without either of them touching it. He walked out, removing his regal aura and slipping on a hat. He once walked into a police office on full alert for mutants in this outfit.

The door slammed shut behind him, powered by his pain.

Easier to use his powers than bottle them up.

1995, March 17th:

Erik could feel the blood on his hands. Literally, not figuratively. One advantage of having such a non-physical ability meant he did not often require getting literal blood on his body. Today had been a rare exception.

So when he realized that he had told Amaya he would be there later that day, he was fairly annoyed.

This was a bad day.

But he had promised.

It would be his first time seeing Lorna in four years.

He had seen her a few times when Amaya was starting on the farm. He helped with furniture a little more than he would admit under the penalty of perjury, but this was his daughter. If he could not shower her in love, he could at least give her some of what his father gave him. No one except Charles knew he was a carpenter anyway. He visited once after that four years ago, but Amaya had no idea.

She would be old enough to remember him if she saw him now.

He went out of his way to wear a plaid flannel shirt, jeans, and loafers. Less suspicious that way. He slipped a hat to cover his greying hair in a manner different than his helmet would frame his face.

With a smooth shift of posture, he transformed into a human Lorna would never connect to mutant terrorist Magneto.

Then he just closed his eyes. He reached out with his powers, focusing on the girl fiercely climbing a tree.

There was a buzz around her.

To his powers, she was a giant electromagnetic he could not control, only sense.

She had green hair too, it started at the roots and was only a few inches in, but it was replacing her brown hair steadily.

His daughter was a mutant.

The tips of his mouth curled in pride.

His daughter was a mutant.

Her powers were developing, and they were a spitting image of his own. Not the exact same, but similar.

She created. Everything she would do when she was developed enough to truly use them, she would create from her body. She would create magnetic fields. It would limit her power; she could never reach Erik's level without the aid of Earth's magnetic fields.

But she would be a mutant.

A mutant that would be persecuted and feared in this era.

"Hey!" she called, seeing him standing at the edge of their road. "Who're you?"

Her voice was a melody. "Just an old friend of Amaya passing through." He tipped his head in her direction. "You must be her niece."

She swung to a sitting position on one of the branches.

"Yup. That's me."

"It's wonderful to meet you, Lorna."

"You too." They were clearly empty words. Not that he cared.

"I suppose I must be going."

And then he left.

He heard her call out, asking what his name was. It took every ounce of his self-control not to tell his daughter the truth.

Instead, he just walked away. He could not trust himself to lie.

He would call Amaya later, let her know her niece's abilities. First, there was one mutant he needed to recruit. Getting her on their side would be a… challenge to say the least, but he was confident she would come running with sufficient motivation.

Erik thumbed the piece of metal he tore off from his helmet. It was imbued with enough of his power to block telepaths, at least if it was on someone's head.

He molded the piece of metal into a medallion subconsciously, altering the surface to his symbol before he realized what he had been doing.

It was the perfect birthday present.

Giving it to his daughter was already tempting.

He could not.

Not yet.

Not when it was too unsafe.

When she was so young.

He silently promised himself to give it to her when she reached adulthood. She would grow to hate him, he knew that. Nothing he did not deserve.

But she deserved to know the truth.

He did not care if he was hated. As long as she was safe.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

2001, March 17th:

She was throwing nails into the ground repeatedly.

He was far too high for her to notice.

He had a couple dozen slips of paper in his pockets, all scrap from failed attempts to figure out what to say.

Miss Dane-

Happy Birthday

was one of the worst. What happened to the days he was good with words?

Well, they never existed, but that was beside the point.

The final selection was written in his most elegant writing. He would have preferred to do it in German or Hebrew or that pidgin Yiddish, but Lorna did not know any of them.

It was frustrating, knowing his daughter did not know her heritage. Amaya was Catholic, making it more frustrating. He was not going to tell her how to raise her niece in mundane aspects like religion. Especially seeing how he would never raise a child Catholic and there were absolutely no Jewish communities in less than an hour's drive.

But none of that mattered.

His daughter was a young woman.

He set the gift box down as Amaya stepped out off her porch, the timing almost on cue.

"You're here."

"She deserves a gift on her birthday." He carefully stood back up. Yes, his final decision had been made hours ago on the wording and penmanship style.

"She's currently blowing off steam. Did you see her on the way in?"

He nodded, answering the question softly. "Near the diner."

Then he left.

He could not be there to see his daughter open her Bat Mitzvah present from her father. It was too risky. He could not be seen. He just… could not.

To Lorna

My North Star

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
November 31st, 2012

"Magnus, it's Amaya."

"Did something happen?" Her voice was nowhere near urgent enough to be concerned. Merely annoyed. Ugh. He knew exactly what happened. "Or would you prefer I take a guess?"

She sighed, explaining Lorna’s latest property damage. Not much different than he expected.

"Yes. Thank you for informing me, Amaya." He paused, trying not to let his worry for Lorna show in his voice. "Is she okay?"

"She's fine, just got a little angry."

"That's the fourth time this year."

"I know. I know, Magnus. She's just… having a hard time."

He closed his eyes. She was still a teenager. A bipolar mutant teenager with awful self-control and loads of anger. Not that he could blame her. She definitely got the anger from his side of the family. Specifically, him.

"Okay. I'll make the call."

"Thank you."

"You don't need to thank me, Amaya. She's my daughter."

Their call ended. He flicked his wrist to change the numbers.

"Emma."

"Magneto. What do you want?"

"I need you to get Dane out of jail again."

"Again? You picked a really bad mutant to help out. What was it this time?"

"She picked up a car. Violently."

"Ooh, I see why you like her."

"Emma."

She sighed. "Consider it done."

2013, July 14:

Lorna was the last thing on Erik's mind at the moment.

Actually, nothing in particular was on his mind. His most recent plan required certain pieces to be set in motion, specifically requiring a certain X-Man by the name of Rogue's abilities.

He had a bit of a dilemma, he could get her on his side, but he would sacrifice Destiny's loyalty.

Obviously, he would have to kill her.

And then he would have to worry about Mystique.

The question of whether setting up something for five years in the future when he was this old and losing Mystique was… harder than he wished to admit.

That was the only reason Lorna even crossed his mind.

He remembered his exact line of reasoning. The reason he never got attached to new members of the Brotherhood like he had with the original team. Emma and Mystique were his only weak points. Emma, not so much. She was far too powerful to be a weak point. Even if he had no emotions towards her, he would still need her.

He did not want to be forced to make the choice between mutantkind and Lorna.

He was afraid of what he would choose.

Whether he would choose to sacrifice fatherhood or his mission.

But none of that really was important right now.

It was bothersome at most.

If anything, Erik was currently bored. He had nothing to work towards. The book he had been reading was more boring than Charles's thesis. Considering Erik had almost fallen asleep while reading about the evolution of mutantkind written by his best friend after they were on opposite sides of a war, it was a bad book.

About quantum physics, yes, but the author just—how did Pyro put it? Sucked. The author sucked.

Needless to say, he was not wearing his helmet or particularly fortified against telepathic invaders. The only mutant strong enough to go through his natural defenses was Charles, and he would know if he was looking for him.

Then he heard his old friend's voice, desperate and rushed. "Erik!"

He sounded… if he was anyone else, Erik would think Charles sounded… afraid.

"Charles, what happened?"

"It's—" Their telepathic link flickered. That had never happened before. Erik's mind scrambled to find something to resume the connection, settling on trying to just expand his brain waves' signals in five seconds. Stupid, but it had worked with Psylocke once.

He could hear Charles only a moment later.

"What's happening, Charles?"

"The rally in Dallas! You have to—"

Charles hissed in pain. Maybe pain, maybe exhaustion. Telepathy was confusing that way.

"If this is about the protest, I don't plan on—"

"No! It's Jean. She's going to…" The next words drained the blood from Erik’s face as he tried to bury his emotions low enough to hide them from the telepath. “She'll kill us all."

What?

The woman was certainly powerful and loaded with the potential to one day become on par with Emma in telepathy, but she would never harm Charles.

What came next was as a surprise to Erik as Charles. "What do you need, old friend?"

"I don't understand it, she should never have been unleashed like this. Erik, you need to stop it. What I saw in its mind, it's a monster. If it attacks the rally, it will be the end of everything."

"I will go."

"Not alone. Even you, old friend, would die alone. The survivors, the ones with combat powers, they are going to fight."

The survivors.

That was… no.

No.

The school.

He hated that school. He hated Charles's vision.

It hurt him almost as much to hear the word "survivor" as to feel the pain in his friend as he broadcasted his thoughts across the country injured.

"I will bring the Brotherhood. Everyone I can get. I promise, old friend, I will stop her."

"It, Erik. Jean is gone. This… this thing replaced her. Remember that."

"I will."

He knew what Charles meant.

He had to be prepared to kill Jean.

A shame, really.

But what she doing, she had to be taken down. She would join his very small collection of mutants he killed to protect innocent lives.

Erik felt Charles weakening. Weak in ways he had not been since… he had no intention of remembering those days.

He was dying.

"I do have one condition, old friend."

"Er—"

"Survive. You have to survive. Without you, the mutant cause has no hope. I have no hope. Survive, Charles."

"I will try." The connection shook again. Erik was currently holding onto Charles more than the other way around. The difference between the peak of human mental abilities and the most powerful telepath should not be this small. "Be the man I've always seen in you."

He almost spat out a snide comment to Charles.

But his friend might die.

He stopped because this could very well be their last conversation.

No, Charles would survive. Erik would survive.

They would defeat whatever had possessed Jean. They would win. The era he dreamed of would come soon.

"And be the leader and inspiration you always have been."

Charles's mental connection collapsed.

Almost immediately, Erik's armor and helmet were in place. It was time for war. No one killed that many mutants and survived, not if Erik had any say in it. No one… no one hurt Charles Xavier if Erik had any say in it either, and he did. He did this time.

"Mystique."

She looked up at him in surprise from the smartphone she had grown attached to.

"What is it, Magneto?"

"Assemble everyone. There is a rally planned in Dallas for tomorrow, and I intend to be there."

"What's the big deal with—What. Happened. Erik?"

Her words were drawn out and stiff.

She could tell just from his eyes.

"Charles contacted me. Jean Grey is possessed. She destroyed the school. He believes she is heading for Dallas next. We have to stop her there."

"Is he—"

"Yes." As far as he knew. "Weak, but alive."

Her shoulders almost showed relief. She and Charles had never liked each other very much, but he took her children in. The few times the two of them joined forces usually ended up being hilarious for Erik; they had quite the unusual dynamic.

She might be the only mutant in the Brotherhood besides Erik to be relieved in his possible survival.

"I'll contact Emma. The Hellfire Club doesn't have anyone useful, but she's a telepath. We need her."

He nodded sharply. "Get everyone you can, focus on telepaths and anyone within the realm of telekinesis. It's time we fight a war, and not on humans."

She nodded now, shifting into another form.

And then walking out.

When Erik flew at top speed with Pyro, Sabertooth, Quicksilver, and seven other Brotherhood or former Brotherhood members, the only thing on his mind was stopping Jean from doing what she had done to Charles to the mutants at the rally.

As much as he hated to admit it, the humans too.

If this was a disaster, mutants everywhere would suffer for Jean's actions.

Had Erik been thinking about the consequences of underestimating his adversary, he might have thought about how Charles certainly had something in place if anything should happen to him.

Something to alert someone else of his best friend and worst enemy's daughter's existence without breaking his unspoken promise to remain silent about it.

He might have thought about how this would be the last time Magneto was seen.

Might have thought about he would be taught in school, taught in history class, on their short and simplified Mutant Civil Rights Movement, as the man who disappeared after causing the increased funding on Sentinel Services. Of Trask Industries and Creed Financial as a result.

Maybe he would have thought about how the Hellfire Club would remain in his legacy.

He might have wondered if his daughter might follow his path one day. If her aunt's guidance did not change how similar she was to her father.

But no, he thought of none of this.

After all, why would he?

He felt it happen. He felt it in ways that when he arrived in one of the old X-Men safehouses near Dallas, he knew. That underground they had been busy forming the past year or two had many of those safehouses.

None of which were more than quite safe, but he did not care about their security.

Kitty Pryde, the first and only mutant he had every reason to recruit and he chose not to. She was not there. Cyclops, the man who embodied the nature of mutants was nowhere in sight. Or Wolverine, the idiot who really had a habit of forgetting he had a metal skeleton.

Those were just the first ones he noticed.

Iceman had no hints of a smile on his face. Even Jubilee with her barely-combat abilities was there, ready to fight.

Storm was there. He saw her face and he knew for sure.

Relief.

Fear of him, naturally, but relief.

And then he knew.

He had known, he had known on the flight over here.

7/15/13, 3:01 a.m.

The moment Charles Xavier died.

No, Lorna was the last thing on Erik's mind at the moment.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"All he ever wanted was for you to be proud of who you are."