Elemental Artisan

Gabriel stood in front of the safe, arms loose at his sides, watching the mind stone pulse behind the glass. His eyes weren't wide with awe—they were half-lidded, bored almost, like he'd seen a thousand cosmic baubles and this one was just another trinket begging for his attention.

He closed his eyes. Twitched one finger.

The stone throbbed once, twice, a slow heartbeat that matched his own. Energy bled from it in golden ribbons, twisting through the air like it was alive, like it recognized him, like it wanted to crawl inside his skin and never leave. The room hummed with it, the light bending around his frame, licking at his shoulders and the sharp line of his jaw.

Then he heard the other.

Gabriel didn't turn. Didn't flinch. His finger twitched again and the stone's glow intensified, painting his face in shifting gold and shadow. The corner of his mouth curved, slow and mean.

"Give me one good reason I want you around."

The words had slipped out of him too.

He privately hoped that the silent alarms were already going off, and they soon would not be alone.

"There isn't one, I should think. Nobody here has much of one either." This stranger had no vested interest in his continued survival, after all. "You can try to kill me, if you feel the need. The last time though, death spat me back out."

Maybe that was of interest?

"Try," he said, the word flat and amused, like he'd already heard the punchline before the joke was finished.

He turned his attention back to the stone, watching it hum and vibrate under his influence. His fingers twirled slow, testing the edges of its power the way a knife thrower tests the balance of a blade. The stone responded—opening, yielding, showing him glimpses of worlds that had no business being glimpsed.

He learned.

Portals flickered at the edges of his awareness, doorways to galaxies he'd never walked, lands that had never seen a Summers before. He mapped them in his head like a predator learning the territory, cataloging which ones would burn and which ones would kneel. His smile spread, wide and sharp, cutting across his face like a crack in something beautiful. His tongue traced his lower lip, slow, deliberate, tasting the possibilities that were already his to take.

He'd had worse firsts. Waking up in a lab. Learning what his own hands could do. This? This was nothing.

When she asked for his name, his jaw tightened for just a beat. That pause wasn't hesitation—it was deciding. Deciding how much of the wreckage he was willing to hand over to a stranger who'd already tried to crawl through his skull once tonight. He ran his thumb along the neck of the bottle, slow, deliberate, the glass slick with condensation.

His mother's voice. He barely remembered it. But he remembered the name she'd whispered before they tore him away.

"Gabriel."

Madelyne wanted to poke at him. Dig her fingers deep into his mind and peel him back, layer by layer. What made him tick? What made him him? She longed to label the looks he was giving her, the way he looked at her like he didn't want her to make as much of him as he was making of her.

"Madelyne," she answered. Quicker than him, slower than someone who's had the name their entire life. For a long time, it wasn't hers.

He kept looking at her. A lifetime ago, she would have hated it. She didn't find it in herself now. There was a lot she didn't find in herself now.

Gabriel knew what he looked like. Broad shoulders, sharp jaw, that weathered thing women called rough around the edges like it was a compliment. But that wasn't what had her circling. He could see it in the way her gaze kept flicking to his temple, to the space behind his eyes like she was trying to read a book with all the pages glued shut.

She'd cracked easier men. Men who folded the second she leaned in, who gave her their fantasies on a silver platter just to keep her attention. But he wasn't here to be read. He wasn't here to be managed.

He set the beer down and leaned forward, just enough to close the gap without crowding her, and tapped his temple with one thick finger. "You want what's in here. That's what's got you curious." His voice dropped, rougher now, stripped of the easy charm. "I get it. You're used to knowing the play before the first move. Must be exhausting, always being five steps ahead."

Madelyne crosses a leg over the other, sitting up straight. She has an image to keep up, if nothing else.

"I get the feeling people buy you a drink often," she hums. The corner of her mouth quirks upward. "You're very sure of yourself."

He's handsome. He's got that going for him. And he's a smooth talker. Were Madelyne anyone else, she would be smitten. But she's barely herself on a good day, and he's being cryptic. She's never known herself to like a cryptic man.

He'd had worse firsts. Waking up in a lab. Learning what his own hands could do. This? This was nothing.

When she asked for his name, his jaw tightened for just a beat. That pause wasn't hesitation—it was deciding. Deciding how much of the wreckage he was willing to hand over to a stranger who'd already tried to crawl through his skull once tonight. He ran his thumb along the neck of the bottle, slow, deliberate, the glass slick with condensation.

His mother's voice. He barely remembered it. But he remembered the name she'd whispered before they tore him away.

"Gabriel."

He certainly wasn’t as ignorant as his captors. Who likely assumed they held all the cards and expected he would stay there until they decided what to do with him. A fact that gave him the slight edge he would need in order to escape.

His unbearable cell mate was the worst part. He couldn’t help but wonder if perhaps shoving them together had been a tactical move. If they killed each other there would be no need to decide anything and they could easily wash their hands of any guilt.

A possibility that he could not allow to happen. No matter how insufferable Gabriel tried to be.

“Do not fool yourself. I would never assume such a thing. I know how thoughtless your blood line can be. That is likely how you wound up here. Some prideful and reckless endeavour.”

Although his tone of voice was completely casual, his eyes never wavered from the form of the other. Observing and assessing from where he sat on the floor at the opposite end of the small holding cell.

“I do hope you put more thought into your next move. The Shi’ar do not make easy opponents. They have spent decades learning us. Trading information with extremely educated sources.

He turned, finally, and met Erik's gaze. The man had decades on him, experience, connections, power that Gabriel had only ever tasted secondhand. And yet here they were, two mutant kings with the same damn collar around their necks.

"If this is somehow your idea of a pep talk, you are the lousiest motivator ever."

His voice was low, rough around the edges, the way it always got when he was running out of patience. He stepped closer, not quite crowding, but close enough to make a point—close enough to let Erik see the hardness in his jaw, the flicker of something mean behind his eyes.

"It's quite rich, coming from the man who had everything to be able to move on, but decided to be stubborn and cling to the past instead." He let that sit, watching for any crack in that iron composure. "You could've rebuilt. Rerouted. Picked something new instead of grinding the same old bones." His hand drifted up, thumb brushing the edge of his collar, a reminder of what they both had to lose. "And now look where we are. Two old dogs in the same pound, waiting for someone else to call the shots."

“I have never been one for motivation and positive affirmation. That sort of thing is much more someone else’s forte.”

If the man across from him was bold and foolish enough to poke at old wounds, he was more than capable of doing the same.

“Rebuild. Reroute. That is exactly what I am trying to do. Unfortunately our friends do not take very kindly to having their technology stolen. Even if it has been long abandoned.”

The smile faded in unison with his patience. His eyes narrowing as he regarded the other.

“You dare to lecture me?

An entitled little upstart. That’s what you are. Feeding a craving for power to make up for all of the times you have felt powerless.

Surely the sweet irony of the situation you now find yourself in tastes like blood in your mouth.

There are some things that cannot be forgiven.

Surely you understand this better than most.”

He paused for nothing but dramatic effect. A moment to let the truth of his words sink in.

“We have about two minutes before we are marched out of here and paraded around like organic trophies of sport. Do not bite back your anger. I am going to need it.

He let out a slow breath, eyes fixed on the rust-stained wall. The lines on the floor were a taunt, a boundary he couldn't cross without dropping to his knees choking. He'd tested it once. Didn't plan to do it again.

"You were prisoner once. You know how things work."

His voice was flat, almost lazy, like he was commenting on the weather. He let the words hang, gave Erik something to chew on. The old man was sharp—he'd pick up what Gabriel was putting down.

"I'm not looking at you like anything."

It's a lie, she knows, but she's the mind-reader here. What does it matter what she says? what impression she makes?

"I didn't think you were capable of that," Madelyne offers, her eyes furrowed. "I might have underestimated your abilities."

Arms crossed, shoulders tense, she stands there, admittedly searching the man's face for a hint of recognition. Then again, if he knows her, it isn't really her he knows. It's never really her.

He let her get just deep enough to taste the static, that crackling void he kept coiled beneath the surface. One mental flex and he scrambled her frequency, feeding her nothing but white noise—a blizzard of dead signals and empty channels. Her face flickered with that split-second confusion he'd come to recognize, the one that said did he just catch me?.

send one to have our muses meet for the first time.

“Sorry, were you just talking to me?”

“I think you dropped this.”

“You look lost. Need some help?”

“I don’t usually talk to strangers, but…”

“You’re sitting in my spot.”

“Whoa! Careful!”

“We’ve never met, right? You seem familiar.”

“Is that seat taken?”

“Sorry, I think I just spilled something on you.”

“You’re blocking the doorway.”

“Were you just staring at me?”

“Excuse me, do you know the time?”

“Wait — are you the person I’m supposed to meet?”

“I’ve been sent to find you.”

“Please don’t be alarmed, but I think we have the same bag.”

“Do you work here?”

“I’m fairly certain that’s mine.”

“You’ve got something on your face.”

“Sorry, I thought you were someone else.”

“Do you know the way to ___?”

“You’re hurt. Do you need help?”

“That’s a fine ___ (cloak/hat/book/etc.). Where did you get it?”

“This might sound strange, but can I hide behind you for a moment?”

“You look like you could use a friend.”

“I think your dog just stole my lunch.”

“Hey, you dropped your coin purse.”

“I think we’re stuck in here together.”

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to overhear, but…”

“Are you the new neighbor?”

“First time in town?”

“I’m not sure if this belongs to you, but…”

“You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

“I’ve been hearing a lot about you.”

“Do you mind if I join you?”

“I think you’re in the wrong place.”

“You seem… out of place.”

“Don’t take this the wrong way, but are you following me?”

“That was a close call.”

“Not to alarm you, but someone’s watching you.”

“Mind if I walk with you?”

“You look like you’re in trouble.”

“Was that your doing back there?”

“You don’t look like you’re from around here.”

“That was impressive. How’d you manage it?”

“I’m guessing you’re not here by accident.”

“Do I want to know what just happened?”

“You might want to keep your voice down.”

“Is it always this strange around here?”

“I have a feeling we’re about to become acquainted whether we like it or not.”

He certainly wasn’t as ignorant as his captors. Who likely assumed they held all the cards and expected he would stay there until they decided what to do with him. A fact that gave him the slight edge he would need in order to escape.

His unbearable cell mate was the worst part. He couldn’t help but wonder if perhaps shoving them together had been a tactical move. If they killed each other there would be no need to decide anything and they could easily wash their hands of any guilt.

A possibility that he could not allow to happen. No matter how insufferable Gabriel tried to be.

“Do not fool yourself. I would never assume such a thing. I know how thoughtless your blood line can be. That is likely how you wound up here. Some prideful and reckless endeavour.”

Although his tone of voice was completely casual, his eyes never wavered from the form of the other. Observing and assessing from where he sat on the floor at the opposite end of the small holding cell.

“I do hope you put more thought into your next move. The Shi’ar do not make easy opponents. They have spent decades learning us. Trading information with extremely educated sources.

He turned, finally, and met Erik's gaze. The man had decades on him, experience, connections, power that Gabriel had only ever tasted secondhand. And yet here they were, two mutant kings with the same damn collar around their necks.

"If this is somehow your idea of a pep talk, you are the lousiest motivator ever."

His voice was low, rough around the edges, the way it always got when he was running out of patience. He stepped closer, not quite crowding, but close enough to make a point—close enough to let Erik see the hardness in his jaw, the flicker of something mean behind his eyes.

"It's quite rich, coming from the man who had everything to be able to move on, but decided to be stubborn and cling to the past instead." He let that sit, watching for any crack in that iron composure. "You could've rebuilt. Rerouted. Picked something new instead of grinding the same old bones." His hand drifted up, thumb brushing the edge of his collar, a reminder of what they both had to lose. "And now look where we are. Two old dogs in the same pound, waiting for someone else to call the shots."

It was almost comical. How often time itself even seemed to obey the laws of magnetism. Repel and attract. Different particles all derived from the same source.

Xavier had told him. Of course he had. The seemingly secret origin of the young man now standing before him.

His fingers flexed at his sides, muscle memory reaching for power that wouldn't come. The absence of it left him raw, peeled back, and he didn't like how exposed that made him feel. Not with Magneto watching like he could see straight through to the parts Gabriel kept buried under rage and stubborn pride.

Unimpressed.

Arms crossed. Brows furrowed. Chest puffed up.

Every one of the Summer’s brood was the same and it was the very reason they all held a fervent dislike for each other.

It was a tragedy that could have been plucked right from the script of a Shakespearean play.

It was more than enough to make Erik laugh. The sound of it starting deep within his chest, rumbling in his throat and easily filling the small holding cell.

"It's quite bold of you to believe you occupy some space in my mind."

His eyes tracked the ceiling, following cracks in the concrete like they were more interesting than the old man across the cell. He did have a plan—half a plan, anyway—but he'd be damned if he'd hand it over just to get slashed at with words. Erik could chew on his own pride for a while. Gabriel had spent too many years being told what to do, being used, being someone else's weapon. He wasn't about to start cooperating now just because the scenery changed.

It was almost comical. How often time itself even seemed to obey the laws of magnetism. Repel and attract. Different particles all derived from the same source.

Xavier had told him. Of course he had. The seemingly secret origin of the young man now standing before him.

His fingers flexed at his sides, muscle memory reaching for power that wouldn't come. The absence of it left him raw, peeled back, and he didn't like how exposed that made him feel. Not with Magneto watching like he could see straight through to the parts Gabriel kept buried under rage and stubborn pride.

you're just like your father.

you're just like your mother.

you spent years tearing people in this family down and now you're upset they won't come back?

i can't believe i used to defend you.

you always need someone to blame, and when you can't find one, you make one.

you don't get a medal for finally doing what you should've done years ago.

every apology you've ever given this family came with conditions.

i wasn't trying to start a fight. i was trying to have a conversation.

don't stand there acting shocked. you created this.

you know exactly why i don't come around anymore.

why am i always the one apologizing?

every problem in this family gets traced back to you eventually.

you taught me exactly what kind of person i never wanted to become.

you keep calling us ungrateful. for what, exactly?

we keep pretending this family works.

every family gathering turns into this because of you.

the worst part is that i still wanted you to choose me.

you don't miss me. you miss controlling me.

you taught me what love shouldn't look like.

you never wanted a family. you wanted control.

you're exactly the person you swore you'd never become.

everybody notices it. they just won't say it out loud.

you ruin everything you touch and then wonder why nobody calls.

maybe if you called once in a while, you'd know what's going on.

you don't get to disappear for ten years and come back giving advice.

i didn't ask you to be my parent.

maybe they're gone, but we're still dealing with what they left behind.

we had to learn how to adapt because of you!

if everyone keeps leaving you, maybe the problem isn't everyone else.

you want sympathy for wounds you've spent years giving to us.

i can still hear the way you talked to me when i was a kid.

you're the reason nobody wants to be in the same room anymore.

nobody ever defends me when you're around.

i don't know why you're crying now.

you always have an excuse.

you've been blaming everyone else for so long you've forgotten you're the common denominator.

you didn't protect me.

nobody warned me that forgiveness and trust were different things.

you can yell all you want. it won't change what happened.

nobody told me because they knew i'd be angry.

you forgot my birthday.

i shouldn't have had to raise myself.

you have no idea what was said about you after you left.

don't raise your voice at me.

you've been holding this family hostage with your temper for decades.

i wasn't trying to replace anyone.

i would rather tell a stranger my problems than tell you.

that's your problem. you mistake fear for respect.

nobody asked what i wanted.

funny how you only show up when you need something.

you think being loud makes you right.

you act surprised every time there are consequences.

go ahead and leave. that's what you're best at.

you weren't there, so don't tell me how it felt.

everybody walks on eggshells around you.

you make everything about yourself.

you never even tried to know me.

you've hated me since the day i showed up.

it was easier to blame me than deal with the truth.

you're mad at the wrong person.

you had every opportunity to be better than this.

you're acting exactly like them.

why am i hearing this from everyone except you?

you treat strangers better than your own family.

you lost the right to call yourself family a long time ago.

i became the problem the moment i stopped staying quiet.

you inherited more than just their eyes.

for once in your life, stop defending yourself and listen.

i wish someone had believed me the first time.

i don't owe you forgiveness.

you don't miss me. you miss access to me.

i didn't realize love came with so many conditions.

nobody is attacking you. we're finally holding you accountable.

i spent years cleaning up your messes.

we all learned how to survive you in different ways.

you're not upset about what happened, you're upset people know about it now.

funny. that's not what you told everyone else.

you don't get to rewrite my childhood because the truth embarrasses you.

i've spent my entire life paying for your mistakes.

keep talking. every word just proves my point.

stop pretending everything is fine.

i don't care how difficult they were. they were still my parent.

you were the favorite and you still act like you suffered the most.

nobody asked how i was doing after it happened.

i can't tell if you forgot or if you just didn't care.

the worst thing that ever happened to this family is that nobody ever told you no.

i don't hate you. i just don't trust you.

that's not how it happened.

i wasn't invited, remember?

you had chance after chance after chance.

you keep asking why we're distant, but you never ask what caused it.

the second they walk into the room, you change.

you don't get credit for doing the bare minimum.

i spent years trying to earn your approval.

you're impossible to love and exhausting to be around.

i stopped expecting better from you years ago.

you don't get to scream at people and call it honesty.

that's the first honest thing you've said all day.

you don't get to demand respect from people you've never respected.

i wasn't jealous. i was neglected.

nobody here is scared of you anymore.

i don't care what your intentions were. look at the damage.

you always leave before anyone can confront you.

nobody abandoned you. we just got tired of being treated like garbage.

you were in the house, but you were never really there.

you never wanted a family. you wanted an audience.

every story you tell somehow makes you the hero.

i learned a long time ago not to expect anything from you.

you can't keep blaming your childhood forever.

you left me alone with them.

you say we're family whenever it's convenient.

the rest of us learned to survive your moods.

the second someone stops agreeing with you, they're suddenly the enemy.

you always act like you're the only one who had a hard childhood.

i don't even know if you like me.

you don't get to play victim now.

i spent my childhood being afraid of you.

don't compare me to them.

every generation in this family passes the damage down and calls it tradition.

the only reason this family still talks to you is guilt.

i didn't forget your birthday. i just didn't think you'd care.

stop pretending this conversation is beneath you.

the only time you call is when you need something.

i was a child.

i don't know what's worse, your anger or your silence.

we were all scared of you.

the only person who doesn't know how selfish you are is you.

you weren't the only one grieving.

we all know who they're going to side with.

i spent more time defending you than you ever spent defending me.

nobody talks about what happened because they're afraid you'll leave again.

why is everyone afraid of upsetting you?