Sarah Across the Multiverse

The mansion buzzed with a rare kind of energy when they returned—victory, relief, and maybe even a little disbelief that they'd actually pulled it off. Nuclear war had been averted. Shaw was gone. And for the first time since this wild ride started, it felt like they could finally breathe.

Sarah stepped through the door, her hand brushing against Raven's as they walked side by side. The subtle touch turned into Raven lacing her fingers through Sarah's, drawing a small, private smile from the sorceress. If anyone noticed, they didn't comment—not that Sarah cared. Let them notice.

"Mission accomplished," Alex said, his trademark smirk firmly in place as he dropped onto the couch. "I'd say that calls for a drink—or ten."

Banshee nodded enthusiastically, already rummaging through the kitchen cabinets. "We stopped World War III and took down a psycho. Pretty sure that's worth celebrating."

Beast stepped in, pushing his glasses up as he leaned against the wall, still clearly processing the events. "It's not every day you stop a nuclear catastrophe. And Shaw's influence over mutants? That threat is over."

Darwin gave Sarah a quick nod, his easygoing demeanor somehow grounding even in the middle of a victory lap. "You did what had to be done. Shaw's out of the picture, and now we've got a shot at moving forward without him breathing down our necks."

Sarah shrugged, nonchalant as always. "He got what he deserved. End of story."

Raven leaned into her slightly, her arm brushing against Sarah's as she shot her a playful smile. "You're terrible at taking compliments, you know."

"Why bother when the results speak for themselves?" Sarah replied, smirking as she reached out to tuck a loose strand of blonde hair behind Raven's ear.

Mystique's faint laugh was drowned out by Banshee reappearing, holding a bottle of whiskey. "Look, I say we leave the moral debates for later. Right now, we toast to not being blown to bits and figure out the rest tomorrow."

"They made their choices," Erik said coolly, his voice cutting through the easy banter as he gestured toward the jet, where Angel, Azazel, Riptide, and Emma Frost were being held. "But they might still prove useful. Perhaps they're not beyond persuasion."

"You mean intimidation," Mystique quipped, though she didn't move away from Sarah's side, earning a faint chuckle from Alex and Darwin.

Charles finally stepped into the room, his expression weary but resigned. He clearly wasn't thrilled about Shaw's death or Erik's growing influence, but even he couldn't deny the relief that came with their victory.

"We'll discuss what to do with them in the morning," Charles said, his tone leaving little room for argument. "For now, let's focus on what we've achieved. Together."

"Finally, some sense," Beast muttered, taking a seat near Alex as the group's tension began to diffuse.

The room was filled with easy banter and cautious optimism. Alex was already trying to one-up Banshee in some kind of ridiculous drinking challenge, and Darwin was half-heartedly playing referee. Erik stood apart, observing the group with something like approval, though his sharp eyes lingered on the jet's new occupants.

Meanwhile, Sarah found herself sinking into the moment, her focus narrowing to Raven, who was pressed against her side, head resting on her shoulder. She caught Beast watching them briefly from across the room before he turned his attention back to the others, muttering something to Alex about restraint.

"You good?" Raven murmured, low enough for only Sarah to hear.

"Never better," Sarah replied, her hand resting lightly on Raven's thigh as she leaned in to press a quick kiss to her temple. "Mission accomplished, right?"

"For now," Raven said with a knowing smirk. "But there's always tomorrow."

Sarah chuckled, her gaze flicking briefly to Erik. "Yeah, and I get the feeling tomorrow's going to be a whole other fight."

But for now, Shaw was gone. The world wasn't ending. And this moment? It was theirs to enjoy.

...

The hours stretched into the early morning as the mansion settled into a rare and much-needed calm. Most of the group had drifted to various corners of the house, basking in the afterglow of their victory. Banshee and Alex were still half-heartedly attempting a whiskey-fueled competition, though the latter seemed far more interested in heckling the former. Darwin, ever the voice of reason, had joined Hank at the kitchen table, the two engrossed in some technical discussion about their next steps.

Sarah sat cross-legged on the couch, Raven curled up beside her, the blonde's head resting in her lap. Raven's fingers idly traced patterns on Sarah's hand, their movements lazy and content. Every so often, Sarah caught Beast glancing at them, an expression somewhere between curiosity and disappointment on his face. Noticing Sarah's gaze he to his conversation with Darwin.

"Do you think they'll try to fight us?" Raven's voice broke the silence, quiet and contemplative. She wasn't looking at Sarah, her eyes fixed on the distant shadows of the jet where their captives were being kept.

"If they're smart, they'll know better," Sarah said, her tone steady. "Erik's got them rattled. And Emma? She's too pragmatic to try anything. Shaw might've been her anchor, but she'll adapt."

"And if she doesn't?"

Sarah's lips curled into a faint smirk. "Then we deal with it. Simple as that."

Raven's fingers paused for a moment before she resumed her idle tracing. "You make it sound so easy."

"It is," Sarah replied, her gaze softening as she tilted Raven's chin up to meet her eyes. "We're still standing, aren't we? Whatever comes next, we face it together."

Raven smiled at that, leaning into Sarah's touch. "You're annoyingly good at that whole motivational speech thing."

"Don't get used to it," Sarah said with a chuckle, pressing a quick kiss to Raven's forehead.

From across the room, Erik's voice cut through the relative quiet. "Charles, a word."

Charles, who had been lingering near the fireplace with a distant expression, nodded and followed Erik into the adjoining study. The door closed behind them, leaving the rest of the group to their own devices.

"Think they're going to argue about Shaw again?" Alex asked, stretching out on the couch opposite Sarah and Raven.

"When don't they?" Darwin replied with a wry grin. "I give it ten minutes before Erik storms out."

Sarah snorted. "You're being generous."

"Hey, I'm an optimist," Darwin shot back, raising his glass in mock salute.

The banter continued, light and easy, the tension of the mission finally giving way to something approaching normalcy. Even Hank seemed to relax, his usual intensity softening as he chimed in with dry humor. For a moment, it felt like they weren't soldiers or mutants or anything more than a group of people who'd shared a hard-won victory.

The study door creaked open, and Charles emerged, his expression calm but unreadable. Erik followed a moment later, his features sharp but composed. Whatever had transpired between them, it was clear neither had come away entirely satisfied.

Charles cleared his throat, drawing the room's attention. "We'll begin discussing the next steps tomorrow. For now, get some rest. You've earned it."

Erik lingered for a moment, his gaze sweeping over the group. When his eyes met Sarah's, there was a flicker of something—acknowledgment, perhaps, or maybe approval. Then he turned and left the room without a word.

Alex stood, dragging out a dramatic stretch that was more performance than necessity. "Well, that's my cue. Night, everyone," she announced, already halfway to the stairs before anyone could bother responding.

The others followed like dominoes, shuffling away one by one until only Sarah and Raven were left sprawled on the couch. Raven shifted beside her, sitting up and arching her back in a stretch that seemed to go on forever, the kind that demanded attention. Then, without ceremony, she leaned right into Sarah's side, her warmth pressing against the clone's usually icy demeanor.

Raven's voice dropped, velvety and thick with suggestion. "We should probably head to bed too—if you know what I mean."

Sarah smirked, but her gaze drifted past Raven, unfocused. "In a minute," she murmured, her tone somewhere between here and not here. She wasn't thinking about Shaw, or the captives, or even Erik and Charles locked in one of their insufferable ideological duels. For once, her thoughts were annoyingly grounded—rooted in the now, the softness of Raven's presence next to her.

Raven chuckled, low and indulgent, before pressing her lips to Sarah's in a kiss that lingered just long enough to make promises she might not keep. "Don't stay up too late," she whispered against Sarah's ear, the teasing edge of her voice sending a jolt down Sarah's spine. "I won't wait forever."

With that, she was gone, sauntering toward the stairs in a way that felt more like a taunt than a goodbye.

Sarah sat back, letting the quiet mansion settle around her like a blanket too thin to keep her warm. "Mission accomplished," she muttered under her breath, her tone tinged with sardonic satisfaction. "And I actually got an ability out of it. Don't you just love it when a plan comes together?"

Her voice echoed faintly in the stillness, the words sounding more like a question than an answer.

...

In the following days Azazel, the White Queen, and the others found themselves temporarily residing at the school. With Shaw gone, they were adrift, and Charles' permission was a necessity before they could make their next move. Without the threat of conflict, there was no reason to remain enemies. The school, for now, was their common ground.

Charles mulled over the fate of Shaw's former crew. Handing them over to the government felt like tossing them into a science experiment gone wrong. Detention wasn't much of an option either, thanks to Azazel's handy teleportation trick. In the end, Charles opted for a "keep your friends close, enemies closer" approach according to Sarah, offering them a chance to teach at the school and atone for their past sins.

Sarah, however, still wasn't entirely sold on the redemption arc. In her experience with comic books (which, let's be honest, seemed to be bleeding into this reality a little too much), villains rarely saw the light. There would always have been a need for fresh bad guys to keep the heroes on their toes. Sadly, it appeared that trend held true even here.

Once the dust settled, Charles did a memory wipe on Moira, his first love, effectively erasing any knowledge of him, the X-Men, or the school. While Sarah felt she should have stopped him, she understood Charles' logic. Moira's government ties could put her in serious danger if she remembered everything. Besides, according to "X-Men: Apocalypse," Charles eventually restored her memories when she was a high-ranking CIA officer with no recent mutant involvement. No harm, no foul, right? For now, at least, it was best to let things lie.

Watching the tearful goodbye between Charles and Moira, Sarah let out a resigned. It's not that she was above a memory wipe, she had done so herself, but still...

A familiar voice, laced with amusement, cut through Sarah's contemplation. "Spying on people isn't exactly the most endearing habit, is it?"

Startled, Sarah spun around, her cheeks flushing with a telltale pink. "Erik!" she exclaimed, her voice cracking slightly. "I, uh… wasn't spying," she added hastily, the words tumbling out as though they were auditioning for Most Awkward Lie of the Year.

Erik raised an eyebrow, a hint of a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. He walked further into the room, his gaze lingering on Sarah for a second or two before he gestured toward the chair across from her. "No? Then what would you call lurking in the shadows, looking like you've just been caught stealing cookies from the jar?"

Sarah, typically quick with a biting retort, found herself momentarily tongue-tied. Erik's unexpected entrance—and the amusement playing on his features—threw her off balance. Clearing her throat, she deflected, "What brings you here, Erik? You're not exactly known for casual drop-ins."

But as she spoke, a familiar tug in her gut told her Erik wasn't here for casual chit-chat. His presence had a purpose, and something told her it had everything to do with what her Shadow Duplicate had said to him—of its own annoying free will.

The whole time-travel thing, the Shadow Duplicate mentioned? Yeah, it was a lot to process. But Erik wasn't new to impossible truths. If anyone could handle it, it was him. He cleared his throat, voice dropping low, sharp with a mix of suspicion and something more—curiosity. "Is it true?"

Sarah blinked. "What is?" she asked, feigning ignorance with a touch of mock innocence.

Erik didn't bite. "What your Shadow Version said," he clarified, his expression unwavering.

Sarah's smile faltered. She crossed her arms, shifting her weight defensively. "You wouldn't understand, Erik," she replied, her voice tight.

"Try me," he countered, stepping closer. His tone was calm, almost gentle, but his eyes burned with an intensity that demanded honesty. "Help me understand, Sarah."

Sarah sighed, running a hand through her hair. "See, Erik… I didn't escape from some random government facility, like you might think." She hesitated, then decided to take the plunge. "The truth is, I don't belong in this reality. Not this universe, not this timeline. I'm from the future—but not your future. A parallel universe."

Erik's expression didn't change. Sarah pressed on, knowing she'd already crossed the point of no return.

"This reality is just one of many," she continued, "Out there there are multiple versions of you. Of Charles. Of the X-Men. The whole mutant-versus-human conflict. And here's the kicker—no matter the timeline, no matter the reality, it's always the same. You and Charles have a fallout. Your ideologies clash, and it never ends well. Not for you, not for Charles, and definitely not for the mutants who follow you."

Sarah's voice dropped, laced with something close to bitterness. "In every version of this story, it's the same cycle. Division. Chaos. And the ones who pay the price? Your people. The mutants who trust you to lead them to something better."

She paused, gauging his reaction. Erik stood still, his expression unreadable, though his eyes betrayed a flicker of something—doubt, curiosity, or perhaps a glimmer of belief.

"So, what you're saying…" Erik began slowly, "is that this reality—our reality—is part of a pattern? A loop we're doomed to repeat unless something changes?"

Sarah nodded. "Pretty much. It's like a cosmic rerun with a horrible ending."

For a long moment, Erik was silent. Then, to her surprise, he nodded. No outburst, no disbelief—just a quiet acknowledgment, one that showed he was truly ready to listen. In reality, since the first time they met, he saw a raw power in her, a potential that resonated with his own experiences. Over time, a bond had formed between them. In Sarah, Erik saw a kindred spirit, a reflection of his own past struggles, which made it all more acceptable to hear her out.

Sarah sighed. "That said, your whole mutant supremacy thing? Frankly, it's a little… well, short-sighted, considering what I've seen in the future." Her shoes suddenly became fascinating, and she chewed on her lip. "You lived through the Second World War, with the Nazis and their Übermensch ideology—one race superior to another. How did that work out for them?"

As her gaze met Erik's again, she pressed on. "Not well, did it? So why the hell would your mutant supremacy thing work?"

"Why not unite as mutants?" she added. "Show humans that you're not a threat—become superheroes if you must—and protect the weak. A great man in the future once said, 'With great power comes great responsibility.' Use your power to do good instead of spreading hate."

After hearing her out, Erik's face twitched slightly, but he suppressed it, he cleared his throat. "I will think about your words," he said after some minutes of absolute silence. "It's a lot to take in."

He sighed, his hands rubbing together as if gathering his thoughts. "You know, after Shaw… that day… I wanted to lead the mutants, fight back against human oppression. But I didn't." He paused, his gaze meeting hers. "Because Charles wouldn't approve. We both know him; he still clings to the dream of peaceful coexistence. But what you are saying now....playing superheroes?"

"I know, but project an accident a bus full of children halfway dangling off a bridge, you sweep in and save the children. That is how you build good faith, people will stop fearing," Sarah said, the man wasn't stupid he would understand.

"I'm not blind to the mutant issues in this era," Sarah said, her voice low. "The racial tension here, the fear, the hatred—it's not so different from what's happening to mutants. You lived through the worst of it yourself, Erik. The years you spent in the camps, the hatred you saw firsthand... you know how easily fear can turn into violence."

Sarah's eyes locked onto his, unflinching. "And if you keep pushing for mutant supremacy, you're just fueling that same fire. History has shown us what happens when one group decides it's superior to another. It only leads to more division, more bloodshed."

She looked down briefly as if weighing her words. "You survived the worst of what happened to your people, Erik. The Nazis tried to impose their vision of a superior race, and we all saw where that led. And now, you're willing to impose something similar for mutants?"

She met his gaze again. "I get the pain, Erik, but repeating history isn't the answer. Strength comes from unity, not from conquering others. You could be the example that shows the world what we can achieve together. Save lives, protect the weak, and prove to the world that mutants aren't a threat."

Finishing her piece, Sarah gave Erik a final, somewhat exaggerated pat on the shoulder, offering him one of her bright smiles. "You'll think about it," she added her tone light and slightly mocking as if to downplay the gravity of the conversation. Without waiting for a response, she turned and made her way toward the door, her heels clicking lightly against the floor.

As she walked away, Sarah cast a glance over her shoulder. Erik stood still, silent, his eyes locked on her as if weighing every word she'd said. There was no outburst, no immediate rejection of her ideas. That alone was a win in her book. Still, she couldn't shake the nagging feeling that, despite the calm façade, Erik wasn't ready to swallow what she was selling.

You'll think about it, she repeated to herself, as though trying to convince herself more than him. It was the best she could hope for, wasn't it? But something about his unreadable expression—something about the way he lingered on her words—felt both hopeful and ominous. She couldn't be sure, not yet.

Once she reached the door, she stopped for a moment, her fingers brushing the handle. She didn't look back. You'd better think about it, Erik, she thought, and with a soft sigh, she stepped out of the room.