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clonerightsenthusiast · 11 months ago

Text

cast a shadow on my soul (the stain remains)

[X-Men Comics, Gen, 5.7k words]

Frost found her outside of Shaw's study, propped up against the wall with her fingers pressed to the stinging flesh of her cheek and tears leaving black tracks of mascara down her face.

Tessa hadn't been undercover in the Hellfire Club for long, but she had very quickly come to recognize the distinctive sound of Emma Frost striding confidently down the hallways, and the brush of her mind like an icy breeze. Tessa had identified Emma Frost as the greatest threat within days of her arrival; there was nothing more dangerous to a spy, after all, than a telepath. Fortunately, Frost seemed to expect a certain amount of fear in those beneath her, and hadn't pried too closely. Yet.

(read on ao3)

The clicking of heels on wood came to a stop in front of her, and Tessa straightened up, clasping her hands in front of her and keeping her eyes lowered demurely. They weren't so far apart in Shaw's hierarchy, but Tessa had quickly determined that Frost was ambitious and vain and responded to deference.

"You're the new girl, aren't you?" Frost asked with cool detachment. The fake British accent was obvious to Tessa's ears. Another data point factoring in to her model of Emma Frost: a woman who would do–or be–anything to get ahead.

"Yes," she replied, bobbing her head without raising her eyes. Her face burned where Shaw's hand had connected. She knew, empirically, because a corner of her mind had already processed all the facts and thrown it back in her face, that it was impossible for Frost to fail to put together what had happened. She prayed silently that she would move on without further comment.

"Pull yourself together," Frost said coldly, dashing her hopes. "You're in public, darling, it's unseemly." Frost's cape swished away from her side as she turned to face Tessa and planted a hand on one hip, drumming her fingers against the bare skin there.

"Of course," Tessa said, biting her tongue. The back hallways of the manor were only open to residents and their guests, which hardly seemed public to her, but Frost said it to be hurtful, not accurate, and she'd run the numbers and her best chance for escaping the encounter quickly was to be as demure and deferential and say as little as possible.

Frost's weight shifted as she stood up taller and sighed, evidently coming to some decision. "You're embarrassing everyone," she said, tossing her hair over one shoulder. "You'll have to come with me."

She strode off down the hallway without waiting for a response, and Tessa hurried after her, her stomach sinking in anticipation of what fresh hell Frost had in store for her. Xavier had warned her this assignment would be dangerous; that the Hellfire Club was evil, and powerful, and would destroy her if they learned who she was (or, more importantly, who she was working for). What he hadn't prepared her for was the casual cruelty that seemed to permeate the building and everyone in it. In the short time she'd been here, working for Sebastian Shaw, she had witnessed things that made her sick to her stomach; and it had only been a matter of time until it was turned on her.

Frost didn't take her far; they were still in the residential area of the manor when she breezed through a door, leaving Tessa to slip inside before it shut after her. In the blink of an eye, she had scanned the room and put together the large canopy bed, imposing bureau, and glimpse of white through the cracked door of the wardrobe and put together that, for some reason, Frost had brought her to her own bedroom. Frost herself stopped beside the bureau and gestured impatiently for Tessa to join her.

Tessa did as she was bade, and Frost put a hand on her shoulder and pushed her forcefully down into the seat. She caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror, skin pale except for the bruise blossoming in florid colors across half her face and black lines of mascara running down her cheeks, before Frost gripped her chin with icy fingers and turned her head towards her, tutting in clear disapproval as she inspected her.

"Shaw is an abominable brute, isn't he," she said in a low tone, almost to herself, clicking her tongue. With her free hand, Frost wiped her thumb across the bottom of Tessa's eye, pressing too hard, and came away with dark mascara, wet with tears, standing out against her pale skin.

Frost released her chin and turned to the bureau, digging through the drawers.

"He is what he is," Tessa said politically. She watched Frost intently, her mind racing as she focused the prodigious resources of her mutant mind to making her behavior make sense.

"Such glowing praise from his new favorite pet," Frost said, the corner of her mouth curling into a cold smile. She placed several small containers on the bureau and said, "Close your eyes."

Tessa obeyed, her shoulders tensing at the vulnerability. She flinched at something cold and wet touching her face. Frost tutted impatiently and gripped her chin again, holding her still as she wiped tears and smudged makeup away with firm strokes.

"If you intend to stick around," Frost said, beginning to dab at Tessa's bruise with something cold and soft, "You really ought to get these things for yourself. I can assure you this won't be the last time dear Sebastian takes a swing at you."

"I was… careless," Tessa said, swallowing around a lump in her throat as her mind jumped back to the incident.

It had been a newspaper discarded haphazardly on Shaw's desk. She'd been in the middle of reciting to Shaw his requested update on the state of his affairs when she'd noticed the article on the front page of the paper – or, perhaps more accurately, the picture: five young people, exhibiting mutant powers, in matching uniforms, with the headline emblazoned above declaring them UNCANNY X-MEN.

She zeroed in on the paper immediately, devoting more and more of her mutant ability to making sense of it, exploring the possible explanations. It was the X that gave it away, that damnable X – it screamed Xavier's handiwork, Xavier's research, Xavier's crusade. But who were these X-Men? Who were these mutants that he had gathered and outfitted like young Avengers and sent out to be the public face of his movement? And the real question, like a dagger in her chest – why wasn't she with them?

Tessa was so focused on thoughts of these X-Men, used to multitasking without effort, that she didn't even realize she'd stopped responding to Shaw until his backhand had sent her flying through a coffee table.

"You'll learn not to be quickly, if this wasn't lesson enough for you," Frost's voice cut through her thoughts, and Tessa breathed a sigh of relief that her psychic defenses were adequate to shield the storm of incriminating thoughts and emotions brewing in her mind. "But Shaw has always had a horrid temper and a tendency to take it out on the women around him. Open."

Tessa obediently opened her eyes, meeting Frost's icy blue gaze. It occurred to Tessa, suddenly, that Emma Frost was her age – or close enough. Surely, Xavier had been aware of her; a young mutant, and a powerful telepath at that – how could he not be? Had he approached her? Or had he simply left her to Hellfire? What had he seen in Emma Frost that had made him write her off?

Had he seen the same in her?

"Look up," Emma murmured, tipping Tessa's head back to apply new mascara to her lashes. "It's waterproof," she added. "If you're going to cry, do go out and get yourself some."

Tessa aborted a nod at Emma's disapproving noise, and instead held still as she applied the new makeup. She didn't bother trying to explain that it was the shock, more than anything, that had brought tears to her eyes – that she would be prepared, now, to better weather Shaw's temper. She took the advice, condescendingly given as it was, as kindness shown in the only way it could be in a place like this. When she was finally released, she turned to look at herself in the mirror and her breath caught in her throat.

There was no sign of the bruise; her face looked as if she'd never found herself on the wrong end of Shaw's mutant strength. She raised a hand and tentatively touched where she knew the bruise was, half-expecting it to have disappeared, and winced at the pain shooting across her cheek.

"You're lucky we have similar skin tones, darling," Emma said, busying herself with putting the makeup away. "It's best to cover them up quickly. Don't let anyone see you weak."

Tessa swallowed until she was sure her voice would come out steady, and then said, "Thank you. I know you don't… care for me."

"It's on all of us to keep up appearances," Emma hummed. She stepped away from the bureau and Tessa took her cue to stand up. Emma straightened her cape until it fell straight, clicking her tongue, then gave Tessa one last, long look.

"He underestimates us, you know," she said in a low voice, lingering with her hands on the hem of Tessa's cape. "Do make of yourself something more than he thinks, hm?"

Abruptly reaching her limit of humane connection, Emma whirled around and took a few steps away, clearing her throat. "As you were, Tessa," she said loudly.

"Good day, Emma," Tessa responded in kind, leaving the room with a businesslike stride, all the while wondering what it was about the two of them that Charles Xavier had seen fit to throw them to the likes of Sebastian Shaw.

–

On Krakoa, the Hellfire Club in many ways felt a world and a lifetime away – and in others, closer than ever. While monitoring the vast transit system, Sage used a portion of her brainpower to track the location at all times of Sebastian Shaw.

It often wasn't hard; Shaw had never been one to mingle with the common people, and when not sitting in session on the Quiet Council, was most often holed up in his habitat on Hellfire Bay, or back in New York rubbing shoulders with the human elite. Keeping track of him elsewhere on the island was difficult at best without help, but a few months into working with Black Tom, he'd picked up the habit of giving her a warning when their paths might cross.

Shaw had left for New York that morning, and Tom had only bade her a glassy-eyed farewell when she'd left the hub to make her way to the Green Lagoon, tired and aching for a drink, so she wasn't at all prepared when she'd walked past a gate on the way and it spat him out right into her path.

He seemed as surprised to see her as she was him, his expression shifting to momentary annoyance at having his path blocked before recognition and a gleeful cruelty sparked in his eyes.

"Tessa," he said smoothly, stepping into her space. His lips curled up into a mean smile. "How lovely to see you. It's been too long."

Sage held her ground, forcing her shoulders back and her chin up to meet his eyes, as far from demure Tessa's default posture as she could manage. He still wore the same overpowering cologne; her brain helpfully fetched a reel of memories, years of standing at his right hand breathing in the same scent as she bore witness to (or the brunt of) his cruelty. Not for the first time, she cursed her own perfect recall.

At the same time, another part of her mind was helpfully reminding her of the gun stashed inside her jacket, and her best odds of temporarily disabling Shaw long enough to escape if necessary. His mutant power made conventional weaponry and hand to hand combat both exceedingly dangerous; but Sage had spent a long time thinking about how to fight him if she had to.

"Sebastian," she said shortly. She took a mean pleasure in the way his nostrils flared at the familiar address. "I'm sure we've both been busy."

Shaw hummed. "Yes, quite," he said. His eyes flicked up and down, taking her in, and Sage resisted the urge to cross her arms defensively. "Stashed away in the transit hub, is it? Does Xavier know he's wasting you as a security guard?"

He raised a hand to her cheek. Sage registered the movement almost before it began and snapped a hand up to catch his wrist before he could touch her.

"Don't," she said shortly.

Shaw raised an eyebrow. Sage stared him down. After a moment, he withdrew his hand, and she let him go. "Well," he said, with a new edge to his voice. "I suppose you're also a part of McCoy's clandestine motley of brutes. Spying for Xavier, now… that is what you're good at, isn't it?" He gave her another once over, this time exaggerating the movement. "Though I must say, Tessa, your last assignment was much more becoming. You really have let yourself go since then."

Sage forced herself to keep a cool exterior while grinding her teeth. It wasn't that she gave a good goddamn about being attractive to Sebastian Shaw; it was the pettiness of it, and the knowledge that he clearly thought she should, that made her want to claw his eyes out.

"If that's all, Sebastian," she said, doing her best to sound bored instead of furious, "I have places to be."

Shaw didn't even have the grace to look disappointed at her lack of reaction. He took a half step back, gesturing broadly with one arm with the same smug smile on his face, and said, "Of course. I wouldn't dream of keeping you. I'm sure our paths will cross again soon."

"Naturally," Sage said. As long as Shaw remained on the Quiet Council, and she on X-Force, it was an inevitability.

How the hell had Charles allowed him to have that seat? And, more importantly, when the hell was Emma going to do something to have him removed?

Shaw's cologne hit her like a punch to the gut as she brushed past him. It was a good thing she was already headed for the Lagoon. Her need for a stiff drink had multiplied.

–

Sage scanned the Green Lagoon like a battle scene. The first order of business was taking note of who was behind the bar. Freddie, as always, but Freddie had expressed just yesterday a concern over her drinking habits, and she didn't have the patience for an intervention today. Not with the headache building at the back of her skull. Instead she used Avalanche as a cover to slide up to the other end of the bar where Anole was working. He was too intimidated by her to ask any questions.

True to form, Anole took one look at her hard stare and hopped to. Sage took her drink and removed herself to an empty table at the edge of the Lagoon, on the far end from the dreadful karaoke performance being put on by a group of teens on the main stage.

And she drank.

It was very loud, sometimes, having her power. Even without her telepathy turned outwards, her mutant mind was always working, always processing, always remembering. Sometimes she just wanted it to be quieter; to sand off the edges of her waking nightmares. When she was drinking, everything slowed down. Just a little. Just for a while. Dukes and Black Tom and Domino and Logan and everyone who was worried about her drinking didn't understand that it wasn't the drinking that was the problem; it was her. It was whatever dark and ugly thing inside her that led her to the Hellfire Club and to X-Force. That wouldn't let her come out of the shadows.

Hello, Sage.

The brush of foreign thoughts against her mind activated an instinctual psychic flinch, a defensive lockdown that she didn't have the wherewithal, after enough alcohol, to tamp down.

"My apologies," the voice said again, this time out loud. Sage looked up from her cup to see who else but Charles Xavier himself approaching, smiling warmly at her from beneath the Cerebro helmet. "I didn't mean to startle you; only to say hello."

"Hello, Professor," Sage said dutifully and then, in a glorious moment of not thinking, snorted loud enough for neighboring tables to hear.

Xavier cocked his head. "Is something funny…?" he asked, still with that smile on his face, just waiting to be let in on the joke.

Sage shook her head, snickering. "'S just," she said, gesturing vaguely with one hand, "your mutant name. 'Professor X'. 'S funny."

Xavier's smile turned indulgent and he folded himself into the seat opposite her. "I suppose it's rather dramatic," he said. "I thought it apropos at the time."

Sage shook her head again, more insistently. An old bitterness crawled up the back of her throat and soured her mood.

"'S not," she said, then swallowed and tried again, speaking slowly and forcing herself to enunciate. It was terribly important, suddenly, that he hear and understand what she had to say. "It's not. Professor X – like being a teacher is who you are, all the time. But you're not. You weren't."

Sage hiccuped and swallowed, staring intently at the bridge of Xavier's nose as his mouth pressed into a thin line. "You're the teacher of mutants – but not all of them. Not me. Not Emma Frost. Not the Hellions – you picked and chose your favorites. The worthy. The heroes. The rest of us you abandoned or found another use for."

Xavier turned his head slightly, and Sage, following the movement, realized with horror that she was talking far too loud, and now the rest of the Lagoon's patrons were openly staring at them.

"Sage," Xavier said in a low voice, "Perhaps we should continue this conversation elsewhere?"

"I–" Sage pushed away from the table, stumbling over her chair's legs. She threw back the rest of her drink to drown the embarrassment choking her. "I have to go."

"Sage–" Xavier reached out a hand towards her as she frantically backpedaled away from the table.

"Don't follow me. Please," she said, turning and running with her head down, pulling the collar of her jacket up to hide her face.

The speed with which she made it back to her habitat was evidence that she was not, in spite of it all, drunk enough. She fished out the bottle of whiskey she'd appropriated from Logan's last Marauders order and set about rectifying that.

What was that? How childish, how – petty, to air decade-old grievances when Xavier had only said hello. Here, in the heart of Krakoa, the whole damn country the man had founded to keep mutants safe. Hadn't she outgrown being angry with him for, what – not being an X-Man at first?

It was X-Force. X-Force, and seeing Shaw, and his petulant comments. It felt, in some ways, like she was back where she started. Doing Xavier's dirty work.

She put a serious dent in the whiskey, and by the time she dragged herself to bed, collapsing fully clothed on top of the covers, her head was swimming so much she could barely think and her mind was terribly, blessedly empty.

–

Sage woke up to a pounding headache, the smell of coffee, and instant regret. She would've rolled right back over and waited for death to take her, except that smell meant that somebody was in her kitchen and she had to make them leave. Her stomach heaved in protest as she rolled out of bed and tugged half-heartedly at her clothes to straighten them, but she managed not to hurl as she shuffled out into the kitchen.

Domino was rooting through her cabinets while the coffee machine on the counter worked away.

"Why do you have loads of coffee and no food?" she asked, balanced on her tiptoes with her head hidden behind a cupboard door.

"The coffee's from Lucas," Sage grumbled, "and I don't cook. Why are you in my house?"

Bishop spent more time off the island sailing with Kate Pryde's Marauders than he spent on it, these days. He made a point to bring her coffee from wherever they'd been last, which was sweet of him. She missed him; missed his friendship and, perhaps even more pressingly, missed having him to watch her back instead of the likes of Arkady Rossovitch.

"Me neither, but at least I have cereal," Domino said, dropping back to her feet and flipping the door closed. She pulled out a pair of mugs just as the coffee machine clicked off. "And I'm making coffee, obviously. What do you eat for breakfast?"

"I don't." Sage plopped into a seat at the island and stared blankly at Domino filling the mugs. "Why are you making coffee in my kitchen?"

"A little birdie told me you could use some."

She groaned and folded over, pressing her aching head to the cool countertop. She wished she could black out properly like normal people, instead of having the events of last night perfectly crystallized forever in her treacherous mutant brain. "Just get me one of the flowers that cures hangovers," she groaned. "Or a bullet."

"You're getting fancy imported coffee."

A mug clunked firmly onto the island beside her head, and chair legs scraped against the floor as Domino took a seat beside her. With a Herculean effort, Sage dragged her head up and pulled the mug towards her, breathing in the bitter fumes. Loathe as she was to admit it, it did make her feel a little better.

The effect was ruined when she glanced at Domino out of the corner of her eye and saw the expectant look on her face. Sage tipped her head back with a groan, closing her eyes. "So everybody knows."

"Mutants are notorious gossips," Domino said, not unsympathetically. "And you picked a fight with Charley Xavier in the middle of the Green Lagoon."

"It wasn't the middle," Sage groused. "And it wasn't a fight."

"The way I heard it, you almost started swinging at the old man." At Sage's glare, Domino put both hands up in front of her. "For the record, my money would've been on you."

Sage pinched the bridge of her nose. "Thank you for your support, Neena," she said through gritted teeth.

"Any time." Domino patted her on the shoulder while Sage begrudgingly sipped at her coffee. "So, you want to tell me why you got wasted and picked a fight with Professor X?"

"No," she said immediately, then sighed. "It's stupid."

Domino snorted. "You're a lot of things, Sage, but 'stupid' isn't one of 'em, and I know enough about Xavier to know plenty of people have plenty of reasons to be pissed at him." She bumped her shoulder into Sage's, jostling her. "So spill."

Sage took a long sip of coffee in the vain hope that Domino might simply evaporate by the time she finished. When that didn't work, she sighed again and reluctantly lowered her mug. "It was a long time ago," she hedged.

Domino only raised an eyebrow.

Sage raised her hands to rub at her temples. "I met Xavier when I was young. Just a kid, really. I saved his life from a cave-in, and he explained what I was – what a mutant was. And then, a few years later, I met him again. And he sent me undercover to spy on Hellfire Club."

She could remember it so clearly; she was young, alone in a cruel world and eager to latch on to the hope of the dream Xavier explained to her. He'd warned her it would be dangerous; what he hadn't gotten across was how degrading it would be, how that much time spent with the inner circle of the Hellfire Club seeped into your soul like a poison.

He also hadn't said there was an alternative.

Sage ran a finger around the rim of the mug. "What I didn't know was that around that time, he was gathering mutants to form the original team of X-Men."

Domino gave a low whistle. "So Chuck doesn't pick you for his team, and instead of spandex, you spend your teen years in lingerie and leather?"

Sage clenched a hand into a fist, staring at the skin stretched white across her knuckles. "I was Sebastian Shaw's personal assistant for years," she said. "Alone, surrounded by some of the worst both man and mutantkind had to offer. And I only got out because he left me for dead – worse than dead." With her free hand, she covered her eyes, taking a deep, shuddering breath. The memory of Bogan was like a scar in her mind – a glitch in her programming, making everything around it stutter and warp. "Storm found me, saved me, and brought me to join her team – they were functioning without Xavier's blessing at the time. They didn't know or trust me. Storm was the only one who knew what I had been doing."

She shook her head sharply. That wasn't the point. The X-Men had ultimately welcomed her. As alone as she'd been at the time, their distrust had hurt; but of course they couldn't have known. It would have endangered all their lives to have known.

She tried again, loosening her fist and instead clutching her mug for stability. "It… when I learned about the X-Men, I asked myself, why did he send me here, instead? What did he – this wise, old, man – what did he see that made him turn me away? What was wrong with me?"

She pressed the meat of her palms, hot from the mug, into her eyes, hard, as if she could push the tears welling up back into their ducts. "It's been years," she said, hoarse. "It doesn't matter anymore. Xavier just caught me at a… bad time."

Domino was quiet for a long moment, then said, "I'm no X-Man. God knows, that is not my gig." She laughed a little at the thought. "But thanks to Cable, I've known a lot of kids that grew up to be X-Men. I watched those kids go through hell and come out – well, to be honest, some of them are complete basket cases." She said it fondly, the corner of her lips curling up into a small smile. She shook her head, turning her attention back to Sage. "But they're still some of the finest young men and women I've ever known, because that's what it takes to be an X-Man."

Sage laughed bitterly. "If your point is that I shouldn't beat myself up because the standard is too high –"

"My point," Domino cut her off, taking one of Sage's wrists and pulling her hand away from her face, "is that those kids had help. They had guidance. Sure, it was mostly grizzled old mercenaries, but there were people looking out for them. You spent all that time in hell with just yourself to keep it together, and you came out the other side an X-Man." She squeezed her wrist. "My point is, it takes a hell of a person to do that. Maybe Xavier saw that in you. Maybe he knew you could handle it."

Sage breathed out and let herself consider what Domino was saying – that maybe, all those years ago, Charles had made a calculated gamble; that he hadn't been worried only with her capacity to carry out her mission, but to come out the other side relatively whole. It was – plausible. "Maybe," she said out loud for Domino's benefit.

Really, it meant more to hear her say it than whether or not it was true. X-Force was becoming a nightmare, another cruel turn in the cycle of her life, but she wasn't alone in it. More than anything the Hellfire Club had to throw at her, what had killed her was going through it on her own. But not here. Not since joining the X-Men.

She leaned over to bump her shoulder against Domino's and swallowed until she was sure her voice would come out even as she said, "Thank you. For the coffee."

Neena tapped their mugs together with a warm click. "Any time."

–

When Sage finally made it to the transport hub, carrying a thermos of more coffee and feeling much better thanks to some Krakoan medicine, there was a present waiting for her on her console. A single stark white rose in a narrow crystal vase. Sage smiled to herself as she traced a petal with one finger. Emma almost never acknowledged their shared history, unless it was to express her disdain for Shaw. Whatever she had seen from him yesterday must have moved her to reach out.

She thought about what Domino had said, about the kind of person to leave the Hellfire Club and join the X-Men. Maybe the two of us had the same thing inside us, after all, she mused, running her thumb over the blunt curve of a thorn.

"Sage?"

Sage went very still at the sound of Xavier's voice behind her. A rush of shame and humiliation nearly bowled her over as hearing him triggered the memory of last night – somewhere under that, though, she registered that he'd spoken aloud.

"I don't mean to disturb you, but I –"

"I'm sorry," Sage interrupted, whirling around to face him. She braced her hands behind her on the back of her chair. "For last night. It was… shameful."

"Water under the bridge, my dear," Xavier said, waving a hand. He paused for a moment, awkwardly clearing his throat. "In fact, I believe I owe you an apology. One long overdue."

He inclined his head slightly. "We never spoke about your original mission, after you took your place on the X-Men. Had I realized you harbored such… insecurities, I would have broached the topic much sooner."

She opened her mouth to object, to explain away last night's outburst, but he held up a hand to stay her.

"Please," he said. "Let me finish."

He didn't mean to condescend to her; Sage didn't know Xavier as well as many of the other X-Men, but she knew him well enough to know that. It still rankled. But she held her tongue.

Charles continued. "The road to Krakoa hasn't been an easy one, you know as well as I," he said. "But especially in those early days, it was a struggle. Mutantkind had so many enemies, and so few allies. Mutants themselves were still few and far between." He started pacing, a few short steps to either side. "We were fighting a hopeless war. I wanted students, but I needed soldiers. And I needed spies."

He turned on his heel to face her again. "You were right, Sage: I was not your professor. I was your general. I thought it was necessary; but whether history will prove my judgment wrong or right, it should not have been that way. And I am sorry."

Her younger self would have been moved to tears to hear that – to hear any acknowledgment of the injustice of her position from the man she'd pledged her future to. But here and now, the apology felt awkward and hollow. She realized abruptly that she didn't want one. Not from him.

Xavier, standing tall in a sleek bodysuit, with the shadow of the threshold slicing across his face, his eyes covered by Cerebro and his hands clasped behind his back, looked light-years away from the kindly old man in a wheelchair she'd met all those years ago. Or maybe it was the opposite – maybe he looked more like the man who'd sent her away than he ever had.

In another life, a little voice said in the back of Sage's mind, I would see this man as my father.

Maybe that was a gift he'd given her. The gift of clarity; of distance. When she was younger she had clung to the idea of him, the only person she could call an ally. The only one who might mourn her if she died undercover. But she wasn't that isolated child anymore. She could see him through clear eyes. He was not the beloved mentor to her that he was to so many mutants on Krakoa.

This man was not her father. She didn't need his approval.

Sage cleared her throat. "I appreciate the thought, Charles, but it's not necessary," she said in a clear, even voice. "You caught me at a bad time last night. I promise I don't spend all day resenting you for past sins." She said nothing of his present ones.

Xavier paused, perhaps put off by her flippancy, but nodded. "Of course. I'm glad to hear it. Well, I'll leave you to your work. If there's anything I can do–"

"Do better," Sage said, cutting him off. "For the next generation. They deserve better than to be used the way we were."

Xavier smiled a sad, tired smile, and gestured widely as if to encompass all of Krakoa. "That is the goal of all I do. Krakoa is both reward and promise – for our past struggles, and of a brighter future for all mutants."

Krakoa had enough dark secrets – even just that she knew of, and she had no doubt there was more that she didn't – that the thought didn't fill Sage with confidence. But she nodded and turned back to her console, a clear dismissal. After a moment, she heard Xavier's footsteps leaving the transit hub.

Krakoa wasn't perfect. Far from it. There was more hard, thankless work to be done to secure the future of mutantkind – work that, frankly, she didn't trust Xavier to oversee. But she would do it. It was the kind of work she was good at. She took a sip of coffee and looked at the white flower and her lips curled up into a small smile. And she wouldn't be doing it alone.

Sage cracked her knuckles and got to work.

#x-men #tessa sage #emma frost #neena thurman #charles xavier #sebastian shaw #my fic #how do you even tag sage btw. did my best ig lol #have the sage fic that i had to exorcise from myself. i love her. queen of being wronged by xavier

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