[ In all honesty, Erik probably wouldn't have been open to this discussion then. He was still deep under the weight of a cause too heavy for him to carry alone, still with too much rage held over the years he was in that prison, with a number on his chest, guards coming by to remind him that this was just the beginning. This was what they'd do to all of them sooner or later.
They could have talked. But he would not have budged, and he would not have apologised, even with all the regret in him. Because he still had a goal, then. There was still revenge, only it was aimed at different men. There was always someone else for him to turn his rage towards, wasn't there? ]
I don't know.
[ But the memories pile on in his mind, flashing before him, before them both. Mutants captured in front of him, tortured and murdered for their project. When he saw Raven on that table, shaking as she was tased, that was all he saw. Every mutant laid out on a medical table, cut open, taken apart piece by piece. Every single person dragged into the camps, decades ago. He didn't even see Charles, then. All he saw was history repeating itself, again and again and again, and the reckless impulse that took him when he believed that he could fix it all by simply sacrificing one.
The ends justify the means, he would have said then. And he would have believed it, too— and he would have been wrong. ]
no subject
They could have talked. But he would not have budged, and he would not have apologised, even with all the regret in him. Because he still had a goal, then. There was still revenge, only it was aimed at different men. There was always someone else for him to turn his rage towards, wasn't there? ]
I don't know.
[ But the memories pile on in his mind, flashing before him, before them both. Mutants captured in front of him, tortured and murdered for their project. When he saw Raven on that table, shaking as she was tased, that was all he saw. Every mutant laid out on a medical table, cut open, taken apart piece by piece. Every single person dragged into the camps, decades ago. He didn't even see Charles, then. All he saw was history repeating itself, again and again and again, and the reckless impulse that took him when he believed that he could fix it all by simply sacrificing one.
The ends justify the means, he would have said then. And he would have believed it, too— and he would have been wrong. ]