Story Notes:
Disclaimer: Any recognizable characters, dialogue, lyrics, and/or situations are not my own. I repeat: I do not own anything.
Author's Chapter Notes:
"Never confuse a single defeat with a final defeat."
F. Scott Fitzgerald
"Are you going to kill me?"

"Yes."

"Why?"

"Because there is no land of tolerance, there is no peace. Not here or anywhere else… your sacrifice will mean our survival."

Such a pity our survival was not secured on that night. If it had, if they had understood, then perhaps we would not be facing the possibility of the passing of the Mutant Registration Act, and the danger it presents to all mutants. That is why I still need her.

Mystique had gone to great lengths to find a mutant with powers such as hers. She had been scouring the country for months before she came across the small Mississippi paper that told her all she and I had wanted to know.

Immediately, I sent others to capture the mutant, but it was not until the girl had caught up with the Wolverine that they found her. I should have sent Mystique instead of those two brutes, as they proved incapable of capturing the mutant. Regretfully, they were more strength than cunning, and took off after their first taste of a fight, succumbing to the selfish decision to save themselves rather than the mutant population.

It was not until Mystique, who had had the splendid idea of using a situation gone awry to her advantage, had lured her out of the school had the opportunity to put her mutation to good use presented itself.

In the end, I lost her to my dear old friend Charles, his foolish X-Men, and his impossible aims. I had underestimated the bond between the girl and the Wolverine; I do not plan on repeating my mistake.

No doubt she has found comfort and acceptance at the school. I sincerely hope she realized how privileged she was to have found them both. She'd have a difficult time finding comfort and acceptance in a world full of men, women, and children who are fearful of her simply because she was born different. Regardless of whether or not she knew of the rare gift the school provided, she seemed to have adjusted well. I saw her with a young mutant when I had been forced to become allies with the X-Men during the fiasco with Stryker; oddly enough, it had been the same boy Mystique had impersonated. It was not the way she looked at the boy that had captured my attention, but rather, the way she looked at the Wolverine. I saw the silly longing she had for her hero. That boy of hers probably turned a blind eye to it.

Charles must have found the mystery of her skin a difficult one to solve. I have felt the effects of her remarkable power. It holds such potential. I have been tempted a few times to offer her a place with my Brotherhood, but the animosity between us is far too deep to overcome. It is no loss to me, as I do not need her or her powers at my side in a fight.

But I do need her if I am to achieve my vision.

Unfortunately, she is very well protected by Charles; he must know I have not given up on my original plan. It is not simply Charles I need worry about, but that animal as well. Whenever we cross paths I sense his suspicion of me. I doubt even the girl is aware of how watchful they are of her, of how they are prepared to defend her should she need it.

However, I am certain the way she looks at me escapes even their watchful eye.

While in the eyes of the other X-Men I see fear and anger, in hers I see only pity and understanding. Before my escape from that dreadful prison, Charles had paid me a visit and informed me of the effects bestowing my power on the girl had had on her. She now carries around the knowledge of my life. Every time she looks at me, she must see the tortured child I once was, the naïve child who learned all too soon of the cruelty of mankind, of the condemnation forced upon those who were different, of the sad truth that tolerance and peace were unattainable.

Yet when I see her, I see only the colorless strands of her hair.

Those despicable strands are a reminder of the failure of the night atop the Statue of Liberty. They constantly follow me, reminding me of what was lost that day, and what is still to be gained. In time, I will see my aims come to fruition.
Chapter End Notes:
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