DISCLAIMER: The characters here all belong to Marvel Comics. None are used with permission, but they are likewise not used for any profit whatsoever.

PERMISSIONS: Please do not MST or POP-UP this fanfiction.

FEEDBACK: Encouraged and welcomed, as long as it is * not * a flame.

DEDICATION: Well - I guess this one's for Lynxie, since she has been asking me most vehemently when I was going to write something else.

TIMEFRAME: Shortly after the deaths of the X-Men in Dallas.

Dear Charles:

In the unlikely event that the portal to the afterlife is the same revolving door that Fate has granted to some of your students and to me, I leave you this -- to explain my actions...actions you will, no doubt, see as the basest betrayal of the promise I made to you. The promise I made when I accepted the mantle of your name, your school, and your responsibilities.

I have failed.

I have failed you, my oldest friend.

I have failed your students.

Your dream.

And worst of all -- I have failed myself.

It galls me to admit that perhaps your trust was misplaced; my hubris finally causing me to come to this. Perhaps it was that distrust in the eyes of your New Mutants...I, Magneto, the Master of Magnetism was oh-so-certain I could *make* them obey me. Listen to me. It didn't matter if they hated me, if they were safe.

I was absolutely positive, in my blind arrogance, that I could protect them.

From the world.

From themselves.

And, damn me, I failed.

I fancy myself this heroic figure. A haggard general in a battle for our very existence. And the price I have had to pay for this position has cost me dear. Magda. She believed me a monster. My own children shun me; my only blood family in this *world*, and they are consumed with hatred, with rage, with a maelstrom of negative emotions. And rightfully so. I admit only to you, Charles, that in those days of the earliest Brotherhood, I was very nearly the monster the world -- and you -- believe me to be.

And only now have my eyes been given the clarity of hindsight.

Only now, while my vision blurs from tears. Tears, Charles! I cannot recall weeping -- ever -- since the death of my Anya.

But then, Illyana Nikoleivna Rasputina was so like my Anya. Her skin,cream and roses. Her eyes, blue topaz, full of innocence. Her golden hair, like spun sunlight. I so wanted to save her. I wanted it more than I have wanted a great many things in my day. There is an ache in my heart; an icy shard lodged in my soul.

I could not save her.

That's right, old friend. The log on your Cerebro will read:

DESIGNATE: Magik

Name: Illyana Rasputin

Status: Deceased

That is accurate enough -- but so clinical. So cold.

She is dead.

You know me, Charles. Perhaps better than anyone, save my beloved Magda. "She is dead." How else could I phrase it, that it would sound -- what? Sweeter? Gentler? More sympathetic? Will it bring her back? Does it make me a monster, a heartless fiend, for acknowledging that simple, painful truth?

Does it matter that the simple truth is no less painful to me?

I must pause and permit myself a moment of irony; a moment to laugh at myself. I have withstood the combined powers of your first and most powerful students. I have torn the electromagnetic spectrum of the planet into ribbons with a concerted twist of my powers. I have faced a tribunal in Paris with my head up. I have even dared to rake bloody furrows in the astral plane so that you could not track and pursue me with your psionic gifts. Yet I mince words and dance like some mirror-skater trinket, fearful of getting to the point -- committing it in writing; on paper, in indelible ink.

The truth, then, Charles.

I took her life.

I could fence semantically with myself. I could weave rationalizations. "Illyana was never one of my students. She was tainted by her bloodstone amulet when you gave me my duty. She was dead already, leaving this demonic creature wearing her angel's face."

I could say it was self defense, but we both know that is laughable.

What it was, was a decision that I had no choice but to make. Had I stayed my hand, the other New Mutants would be dead -- or worse, enslaved to the Mistress of Limbo.

*****

Magnus put the pen down, and gently pressed his thumb and middle finger to the bridge of his nose, attempting to stave off a headache. He glanced at his hand for a moment, then lowered it. ~You have done this before. You have done what needed to be done. You cannot have the luxury of grieving like an ordinary man.~

~Aside from which,~ he sternly told himself, ~You cannot leave the task of counseling the others to Sharon, Thomas, and Stevie.~ Wearily, he levered himself up from the leather desk chair. For the first time in recent memory, Magnus felt -- old. Truly old. His indefatigable drive, his devotion to his dream of mutant superiority had given him a rush that kept him young. He had seen countless numbers of mutants -- both friend and faceless -- fall in his service or to protect others from him. When he had been the leader of the Brotherhood, or when he'd been alone, fighting his good fight -- deaths were simply reality.

~And now? Now I am expected -- supposed to -- stand for something better. Charles' ideal. I am pledged to nurture and protect the lives of young mutants, rather than sacrificing them in my mission, or grooming them to be my lieutenants when I achieve my goal.~

Magnus' steps felt leaden and heavy; they echoed, exaggerated, in his ears as if his expensive Italian wing-tips were made of hollow metal. He didn't even open the door with a customary and trivial use of his powers. He placed a hand on the knob and turned it, feeling the mundane click of the knob's mechanism against the door jamb.

The house was oppressively quiet. Only weeks -- no, even *days* ago, Magnus would have roared to silence his young charges from their infernal din. But now -- it was almost like the mansion itself realized what had happened to one of its residents. With no sound but the measured ticking of the grandfather clock in the foyer, Magnus proceeded to the study.

Tom Corsi stood beside the door, expression set in a practiced facade of concern. The man had been a police officer. His training was holding him in good stead. Magnus found only the faintest trace of grief in Corsi's dark eyes.

Sharon Friedlander was doing equally well. Once a nurse at Salem Center Hospital, she had extensive training in dealing with bereavement. At present, she was comforting the youngest of the New Mutants -- Rahne Sinclair.

"Och, Sharon -- I know 'tis wicked an' sinful o' me, but a part o' me is glad that witch is gone," Rahne murmured, knuckling tears away from her eyes. Her green eyes found Magnus' and her cheeks flamed red before her entire face went pale. "I didna wish her black magick to corrupt me. Or Dani....or...or..." Rahne's words dissolved into uneven, ragged sobs, and she buried her face in Sharon's shoulder. Sharon simply stroked the Scots girl's bright red hair and said nothing, allowing Wolfsbane to grieve as she needed.

Roberto DaCosta swore under his breath in his native Portugese, staring out at the rainy October night, as if he hoped to find answers to his friend's senseless death in the patterns of the rain or the sound of the autumn thunder.

Samuel Guthrie wept openly, face in his hands. His slender shoulder strembled with the force of his sobs. Then, suddenly lurching to his feet, the lanky boy bolted out of the room. Magneto's keen sense of electronic and magnetic activity tracked Sam's motion until he came to a stop in the kitchen. Magnus pivoted on his heel, ready to intervene with his powers, when it became clear that Sam wanted the telephone -- not a knife or some other implement of suicidal means.

~Has it been so long since Anya, then, that I cannot gauge the depths of these children's hearts? Has it been so long that I have lost my connection to others as people? It would appear so. I can scarcely see them as little more homo sapiens and homo superior.~ He felt his right hand clench at his side. ~Charles, how do you do it? How do you make it seem so easy? I would say it was your telepathy, but I know better; you at least attempt never to invade a mind without permission.~

~Ah, Charles. You have a gift with people that I can manage only when I employ autocracy.~

Doug Ramsey sat huddled in the corner, the alien known as Warlock wound around him. The two murmured to each other softly -- the human boy attempting to explain grief to the technorganic creature he was so close to. The alien's wide, luminous yellow eyes were wide with clinical fascination and genuine concern for Douglas.

Magnus glanced around the room once more, noticed that two of the students were gone, and immediately sent tendrils of his power seeking them. He found the signature of Amara Aquilla and of Danielle Moonstar beside the lake. A silent communication to Corsi, and the young man was out the door to retrieve the two young women.

Magnus himself walked toward the medical center of the mansion, and stood over the shrouded form of the fallen Magik. He was not aware how much time had passed before he felt a hand on his shoulder. Brusquely quashing his instinctive response, he turned slowly to regard Stevie Hunter.

"The kids are all upstairs," she informed him. "Are you all right,Michael?"

Magnus nodded a curt affirmative.

"Don't lie. You look like you've spent the whole evening being dragged through gravel," Stevie declared. "Have you had yourself checked out by Sharon yet?"

"No," Magnus replied in a tone that indicated he expected that sole word to answer her question and terminate the conversation. Stevie, however, was not so easily cowed nor dissuaded. "Well, you had better. You won't be fit to look after these kids if you exhaust yourself." Arms akimbo, eyes narrowed, Magnus was surprised to discover he might have found her intimidating -- were he a lesser man than himself.

"When we have made sure the children are all right, and not before," Magnus said softly. "I ..." he paused, took a breath. "I appreciate your concern, Miss Hunter. But they come first." He moved to step past her, majestically.

~Damn,~ Stevie thought, watching in bemusement, ~the man moves like he has on his cloak at all times.~ She stuck an arm out at chest height to stop him from passing. "It's not just that you're worried that they're taking Illyana's death hard, is it?"

Magnus lifted one brow in a slow arc as the only indication her question might have stricken a nerve. "You are perceptive," he allowed.

"What, then?" Stevie asked, giving Magnus a *look* as he lifted his hand to remove her arm from blocking his path. He removed his hand; she lowered her arm and looked expectantly up into his steely eyes.

"I am not wholly certain these are *our* New Mutants," Magnus confided, jaw set. "I have read what little there is about Illyana in the files. There were another set of X-Men. Who were corrupted by Limbo -- twisted into dark travesties of themselves. There was another Katherine Pryde. Is it not also possible that these New Mutants are the matching numbers for a group from that other world Illyana spoke of?" ~And by the Eternal, if so -- I have damned the real New Mutants.~ He dismissed the notion. "Or, more likely,that our New Mutants have not been tainted by the same evil that consumed Magik herself?"

"Magneto," Stevie whispered, "I've never seen you like this. What happened out there with those kids?"

Magneto paused, took a breath, and reached into the breast pocket of his immaculate charcoal grey suit jacket. He produced a battered golden locket with ornate designs of capering demons and maidens. With a press of his thumb on the latch, it sprung open, revealing a pentagram -- and *five* bloodstones decorating each of the star's points.

Stevie gasped, hand flying to her mouth. "There were only three!" she whispered, expression mirroring the horror Magnus felt but would not permit himself to show.

"I know."

"But the portal hasn't opened," Stevie snapped at once. "If it was all Illyana's blood in the stones, the portal would have opened for Belasco! Isn't that what she said?"

"Indeed," Magnus allowed, inclining his head. "However, suppose the blood of the remaining two stones is not hers?"

"Illyana would never --" Stevie breathed, then stopped. "Unless she were the Darkchilde."

Magneto nodded once. ~Ms Hunter has been keeping abreast of the situation. The children must have trusted her with such intimacies when they could not allow themselves to trust me. If not for Charles' thorough filing, I would have been left to stagger in the dark for answers.~ "That, my dear Ms. Hunter, is precisely the problem. She *was* the Darkchilde at the end."

Stevie cast an uneasy glance at the gurney where Illyana's body lay, but said nothing for several long moments. Then, "What triggered it * this * time?" She tore her gaze, with an effort, from the shrouded form to the face of Magnus.

"They had gone on another adventure without my consent," Magnus murmured. "Another attempt to extend that - that * idiotic * rivalry between themselves and Frost's Hellions. It did not go well. Had it not been for Warlock, Douglas Ramsey's parents would be mourning now instead of Illyana's. As it was, Rahne had been hurt, and was terrified of Illyana's magicks damning her soul." He pinched the bridge of his nose again. "The purity of that child's heart is equalled only by the terrified piety of her upbringing."

Stevie nodded quietly, accepting the tray with tea mugs from a Sharon Friedlander who withdrew again without comment, leaving Stevie to the private conversation with Magnus. "How bad is she?"

"Not as bad as we had feared. Not for Rahne, at least. She has some bruised ribs and some deep lacerations. But nothing time will not heal." He looked up then, and his actinic blue eyes - those eyes Stevie was so used to seeing full of fury and drive - were shining with pain. "It was what I found later that caused this." He gestured vaguely with his left hand, indicating the corpse.

"What * happened, * Magnus?" Stevie asked.

Magnus took a long, slow sip of tea, pausing to masochistically savour the scalding heat on his palate and tongue. "I called the remainder of the team together to debrief them. Rahne and Douglas were unconscious, recovering from their injuries. Amara, Danielle, and Illyana failed to appear when I summoned them."

"Naturally, you could not have this," Stevie offered. There was the faintest bit of reproach in her voice, and she regretted the words as soon as they'd passed her lips. "I'm sorry. You didn't need me to take that shot at you now."

"You are right, Miss Hunter," Magnus said. "Even if it was barbed, it was still the truth. I went to find them, and discovered them in Illyana's room. Illyana had conjured a pentacle of silver fire. At two points, Amara and Danielle sat, and Illyana herself sat in the middle, murmuring incantations under her breath. She was in the aspect of the Darkchilde - all but that face. It was as human as ever, golden hair and wide blue eyes.

"I immediately demanded to know what they thought they were doing. Illyana fixed me a look of mingled contempt and disgust, then summoned one of her stepping disks. I leapt into it, following as she spirited the other two girls away. Into Limbo. It was then that I discovered what had been happening."

Stevie waited for Magnus to continue, although she wanted to ask him. She forced herself to remain quiet and sip her tea, patiently. It was clearly hard enough for the man to tell this story; she would not make it more difficult for him.

"Danielle and Amara sat, entranced, upon the points of the star. But they each had a wound over their hearts, which welled up blood. Illyana conjured with the greatest care, and carefully fashioned two bloodstones from the drops she had stolen from her friends."

At this, Stevie was unable to stifle a gasp.

"I could not watch and let her finish whatever spell she had begun, so I stepped in. She sent Amara and Danielle back to Earth, leaving herself to face me - alone. She could have destroyed me then. In the realm of Limbo, all reality bends to the Demon Sorceress' whim and wish. But I didn't consider that. I didn't even realize she warded off her demonic host and kept them from my throat. My vision had narrowed to the single pinpoint of awareness: she had turned against her own, and she needed to be stopped before they came to harm.

"Perhaps, in my heart of hearts, I realized. I hesitated before I forced the blood to stop to her heart. She had only enough time to curse me with all the hate and passion and magic at her command, and to tell me I had made a mistake, before she fell into my arms. Even as she died, she did not condemn me - she returned us here, that she could die 'at home.' Her last wish was that she had only been able to see her brother one more time."

Magnus' teacup fell and shattered on the floor, startling Stevie with the sudden sharp sound.

Stevie placed a gentle hand on his shoulder.

"Amara and Danielle have no memory of whatever had transpired," Magnus murmured. "But I do owe them an explanation." With a deep, heavy sigh, he straightened his shoulders. "They are every bit the worthies Charles said they were, and I should treat them as such."

* * * * * * * * *

The faces of the New Mutants were ashen, pallid, reddened with hidden fury, slack-jawed with shock, and completely blank with astonishment, as near as Stevie Hunter could determine. She sat in the arm chair and watched as Magnus explained to them what he had only just explained to her.

"But the portal," Sam piped up, making the same realization Stevie had. "It ain't open yet, Magneto." Clearly the boy was in dire emotional straits; he was customarily far more respectful to the man than this.

"Can anyone suggest why the portal would not be open if all five bloodstones were in place?" Doug asked, leaning to peer over the locket and examine it.

It was Rahne, innocent Rahne, who timidly offered, "Th' fell magick was only supposed tae work if all five of yon bloodstones were of Illyana's very own blood, aye? Suppose all five are not of her blood?"

Danielle's face paled, and she turned to stare at Amara. Amara went equally pale, and returned the horrified look.

"Menina, do you remember anything?" Roberto asked Danielle, rushing to her side so he could guide the suddenly shaky-kneed Cheyenne into a chair.

"Yes," Danielle whispered, and hung her head. She looked up. "Rahne's greatest fear was the same as Illyana's. That one day the demonic side would overtake Illyana, and the Darkchilde would betray us all." A holographic representation of the Darkchilde shimmered into view, pulled from the fears of the other New Mutants as well. "We all were afraid of that, even if we didn't all want to admit it."

"And…" Amara added, Sam steadying her with large, gentle hands upon her shoulders, "We knew that if the bloodstone amulet was ever completed, there would be no way to undo the evil. Dani and I, we thought, 'suppose the amulet has five bloodstones, but they are not all of the sorceress' lifes blood?'"

Doug stared at the amulet and then at Magnus. Back at the amulet. Then back at Magnus. "Two of these stones are not the same shade of red as each other- or the other three stones," he said softly. "Dani? 'Mara? The other two stones are yours, aren't they?"

The two girls nodded in unison. "We figured it could never come true if there was nowhere for the other two bloodstones to go," Dani confessed, shrugging. "She's been through hell for us - literally. She's our friend. So we offered."

"Dani, no!" Rahne cried, throwing herself at the other girl's feet. "Dinnae ye realize ye could damn yuir very soul tha' way?"

"I know, firetop," Dani said, ruffling the other girl's hair. "But that's not the Spirit I believe in. And if I had to suffer a little damnation to save Illyana from a lot, it was the least I could do as leader."

"Co-Leader," Sam corrected softly. "Ah should've been there t'help, Dani. Ah wish ya'd told me."

"We gave it some thought, Samuel," Amara said gently, patting his hand. "But we agreed that the blood needed to be that of virgin females…that the bloodstone would recognize the difference between that of an innocent female and a heroic man." She shrugged, and smiled wryly at Sam's blush.

Magnus remained silent for this entire exchange. "Then…you sacrificed your blood … willingly…" he stammered. Every eye on the room turned to him. Magnus - STAMMERING?

"Yeah," Dani said. "We did."

"And there seem t'be no ill effects on 'em," Doug observed. "No horns. No hooves. No tails. No funky red fur." He was joking in the face of terror and grief, and everyone knew it.

"Then she died for nothing," Magnus whispered. "I took her life to protect yours, and it was all for nothing." He lifted his eyes to regard his former students - so he could see the betrayal in their eyes. ~I owe them at least this much. They did not trust me to trust them. And they were right.~

"You killed her?" Rahne gasped, horrified. A hand went to her mouth, and then she fell to the floor in a faint. Dani lifted her easily and placed her on the sofa before turning to stare at Magneto.

"How?" Amara demanded, eyes beginning to glow. The earth rumbled beneath her feet; tectonic activity echoed Magma's temper, although she was, thus far, keeping her power in check.

"I gathered the iron out of her blood and stopped the flow to her heart," Magnus confessed, head erect. "I…believed it was the right thing to do. To protect you all from her."

"Did she suffer?" Sam asked, reflexively brushing a big hand through his ruff of corn silk yellow hair.

"I made it as painless as I am capable," Magneto answered. "If I could undo my mistake, I would."

"Your * mistake * cost Illyana her life!" Roberto hissed between his teeth. Solar energy danced and crackled around him as he let his fury carry his power through his body and fuel his Sunspot aspect.

"Selfteacher acted in defense of greater unit NewMutants selfteacherstudents. Needs of the many," Warlock finally added, "Are of greater importance than the needs of the one."

"But they were trying to * help * 'Yana!" Doug protested to his best friend. "He didn't even give her a chance to explain!"

"She made no attempt to, when I asked," Magnus offered.

"She didn't want you to know," Dani murmured. "She was ashamed that she was so desperate to be free of the Darkchilde that she would allow two friends to make such a sacrifice for her. And we didn't want you to know either, because we were sure you would've forbid us."

Amara nodded to that, and the faint tremors ceased. "The mistakes made this night were not only yours, Teacher."

"Are you all insane?!" Roberto demaned. "The man * murdered * one of us in cold blood! Magik is dead because we had no choice but to trust this * madman * as our teacher! "

"Wolverine," Sam pointed out quietly, "Would probably have done the same thing to Illyana if it'd been him."

"Kitty Pryde too," Dani added. "She was Illyana's best friend, but she would not have let her turn the rest of us into demon slaves if she genuinely believed Yana meant to do that. Kitty would've also offered up her blood for the stones."

Stevie watched the interplay between the New Mutants. Roberto's rage remained steadfast, but the rest of the Mutants seemed, however reluctantly, to understand. To admit that mistakes were made on both sides, and that while tragic - Illyana's death was the result of a series of misunderstandings which came from the animosity and distrust the Mutants and Magneto had held for each other.

"I will face whatever punishment * you * deem appropriate for me," Magnus said, voice returning to its normal charismatic timbre. "This was between us, and it did not happen on Earth. I will not face Earthly judgement for my transgression. However, out of respect for Charles Xavier, and out of the respect I should always have had for you all - I will abide by whatever you choose to do."

Sam and Dani exchanged a long look between them. The New Mutants gathered into a huddle after waking a much bewildered Rahne. Their whispers were furtive and soft for several moments. It was clear by the disgust and thinly veiled anger on Roberto's face that they had not chosen to take an eye for an eye.

"You're outta here, Magnus," Dani said simply.

"Whatever you do, do it with a low profile. This is the only chance you get," Doug added.

"If the New Mutants ever face you again on the battlefield," Roberto growled through clenched teeth, "We shall do all we can to eliminate the menace of your existence from the world, and avenge Illyana's death."

"However," Warlock added, "Selffriends believe that formerselfteacher's guilt should be punishment enough - in the main." He nodded politely to Roberto, who stared at Magnus with his jaw set.

"The X-Men may be dead and gone, but now we're the X-Men," Dani said,clasping Rahne's shoulder. "We tried you as a friend, and you failed us. We will not fail you if we meet again as enemies." With that, she turned her back on him and stalked for the door. Rahne followed, one step behind.

One by one the others filed out of the room: Doug, then Warlock. Amara, then Roberto. And finally, Sam.

"You can stay 'til her funeral, then you're gone."

Then he too left the room, leaving only Magnus staring down at the desk and the bloodstone amulet.

* * * * * * * * *

"They were more merciful than I would have been. More merciful than I would have trained them to be," Magnus said, carefully loosening the knot of his black tie in the mirror.

"They're good kids," Stevie said softly. "And they know that if you were really the monstrous, faceless megalomaniac the world believes you are, you would not have suffered remorse at your actions. You would not have even confessed them, certain that your actions had been beyond reproach. They're not stupid kids either. Though they're hurt, and angry, and betrayed - they know that."

Magnus nodded, silent.

"Where will you go?"

"Do not concern yourself. I will not meet them on the battlefield. If I defended myself, they would fall."" He chuckled self-deprecatingly at the arrogance in his remark. "I … have a responsibility to take care of."

He gestured with his right hand, and to Stevie's astonishment, Illyana's Soulsword appeared in Magnus' grasp.

"I told you she cursed me," Magnus said with a shrug. He unbuttoned his shirt, revealing the angry red welts on his belly. They were a series of sword-slashes, all of which had drawn an inverted pentagram. "She has fallen, and Belasco's amulet is in my possession. It is useless unless he finds another pure soul to corrupt, and then the whole thing will begin again with some other little girl.

"Like my Anya." He slipped out of his trousers and laid them neatly on the bed. As he walked slowly to the window, to watch the New Mutants standing over Illyana's grave in the rain, his Magneto costume flowed from his closet and sheathed his body, following the contours of his muscles. "And so, in her wisdom, who better could Magik choose to guard Limbo against this ever happening again?"

"But…what of your work here?" Stevie asked, astonished.

"It is in good hands. You, Sharon and Tom are far better moral barometers for those young people than was I. You are human, and can remind them that not * all * the world hates and fears them. That lesson is the most important that they can be taught. I learned it too late - and let hate and fear guide me to this pass.

"You will find that I left all the legal paperwork in your hands, Miss Hunter, with the power of attorney. In a week, you will receive a check. It will be drawn on a Swiss bank account. I cannot recall the precise amount, but it should be in the amount of -- oh, thirty million dollars or so. That amount is to be put toward the Illyana Rasputin Memorial Foundation. That Foundation is to be established to do what Charles always wanted done -to educate and heal. To show the world that mutants are not all power-mad misanthropes who wish to rule the world and enslave the world."

"Magnus…" Stevie whispered, shocked.

"It is better I learn late, my dear Miss Hunter, than not at all. Do not grieve for me. I may return from Limbo after my obligation to Illyana is completed. And if I do, I wish to return to a world that Charles and I may both live in - peacefully."

A crackle of electricity filled the air, setting Stevie's hair on edge. A flash of blue-white light sheathed off the Soulsword, and then Magneto was gone - looking as though he'd been consumed in a bolt of lightning. Only two smoking footprints on the floor indicated he'd ever stood there.

"Better late than never, huh?" Stevie muttered. Then, closing Michael Xavier's door behind her for the last time, went to go downstairs to her charges.