This part was a long time in coming. Hopefully, you enjoy it as much as I enjoyed writing it. Darwin lovers, this one's for you.

all the time I didn't know you yet
by gale

SUMMARY: In which Darwin fields a job offer, Raven declares boys idiots, and I realize I like Sean way more than I thought I did.

Darwin doesn't actually remember dying.

Not that he'd died, really; that's what Hank says, and Darwin trusts his judgment on that one. He'd been "discorporated" (very expensive word for "not having a body") and ended up in Alex's lungs, where he'd remembered ("on a cellular level!" Hank said, looking way too excited about that part) how to have a body again and exited when he felt he could "retain molecular cohesion".

The point is, he was living in Alex's lungs for just over five weeks, and he doesn't remember any of it.

He remembers things, yeah: the weird sense of pressure that comes from being in a too-tight space, the way every breath Alex took echoed through him, pumping him like a bellows. They're fuzzy, though, and filtered through his brain in a way he can understand now that he's solid again. It's not the same thing.

He doesn't know why he'd take so long to become solid again, or why he'd chosen to stay in Alex's lungs rather than anyone else. He has some ideas, but that's not the same thing.

He doesn't know why Alex won't look at him. That's the worst part.


"Alex is being an idiot," Raven announces, hanging upside down from the tree branch.

Darwin doesn't blink. "Everyone is at some point," he says. "How are you doing that?"

"Feet," Raven says. Sure enough, the rest of her is blue--which is still weird, that she walks around like that most of the time now, but pretty cool--but her feet are like Hank's: toes spread out, big toes like extra thumbs. "If it works for Hank, it should work for--ack!" She drops.

Darwin moves to catch her, but Raven does this complicated twisty thing in midair and lands on her feet. It's a lot like what his grandma's cat used to do when she fell off the back of the sofa. "Not so much?"

"Worth a shot," she says, frowning a little but clearly not upset. "I sort of assumed if it was something simple like that, I could mimic it."

"I don't think so," Darwin says. "His mutation isn't just that he has weird feet. There's muscles in there too, and I don't think you can copy those as exactly."

"Yeah," she sighs. "I should probably scrap the wing tests too. Dammit." She jumps back up to the branch and sits on it normally, feet dangling over the edge. "Not the point! Alex is still being an idiot."

Darwin, gamely enough, climbs up next to her. "I'll bite. Why is he being an idiot?"

Raven just looks at him.

Darwin looks back, slightly confused.

Raven sighs again. "About--" She waves a hand at him. "That. You. The whole. Thing."

"Not actually a sentence," Darwin says absently, and shrugs. "It's fine."

This is not entirely true: Darwin thinks it's not exactly fine that Alex is avoiding him for whatever reason--not wanting to think about Things, or having a problem with it, or whatever--but Alex is an adult, the same as him, and he's not anyone's dad.

He's not confused about himself; he knew he what he liked when he was still in high school, and if he looked at Clayton Rivell the same way and length of time he looked at Clayton's sister Anna, well, that was his own business. He's not stupid. There are at least two levels of people being distrustful of him--being black and liking boys, three if you add in being a mutant. It would be nice if things were different, but things aren't going to change overnight. And if he looked at Alex not too differently than he'd looked at Angel--and that one still stings, that she'd still gone with Shaw after what he'd done, but part of him gets it in a way the others can't--that's his own business too.

"It's not fine! He was--he just turtled in on himself after we thought you died, we all sort of did, but Alex took it the hardest. And if he's too dumb to get it--"

"Raven," Darwin says, not unkindly, "he might literally not..." oh my God, he's going to actually say it this way, it's like he's his cousin. Who is ten " me the same way. It's fine."

Raven scowls and looks at him. "Okay, maybe it's not Alex. Maybe it's all guys."

"Entirely possible," Darwin agrees, smiling a little.


"It's okay," Darwin says gently. "You won't hurt me."

"I'm not taking them off," Scott says, arms crossed over his chest. "You can't make me."

The Professor (Darwin's having a real problem thinking of him as "Charles", for some reason, like he's suddenly a voice of authority instead of a guy he'd thought was kind of sketchy back in the cab) is off with Sean getting Jean for the weekend, and he'd asked Darwin to work with Scott. "It's not that I don't think he doesn't work, with Alex," he'd said, "but it does tend to degenerate into noogies and some sort of fighting most times."

(He'd looked extremely confused about the last bit. Darwin thinks that's sad. He also thinks strongly about keeping the Professor out of his head when he thinks it's sad, because nobody likes to pitied, and then he'd have to explain why he was pitying a rich white guy from Westchester, and then it'd become a speech, and picking up Jean is kind of a long drive, so yes, Professor, helping Scott, not a problem, see you at dinner.)

"No," Darwin says, "I can't," because he can't. "But you're not gonna get any better at using those things if you don't at least try, man."

Scott's mouth is a thin line, but he uncrosses his arms. "I'm--I could hurt you," he says quietly.

"You really can't," Darwin says. "What comes out of your eyes is what comes out of Alex too, right?" He's pretty sure--Hank's run a lot of tests--but it helps to say it out loud, sometimes.

Scott nods.

"Okay. And you know what my power is, right?"

"You adapt to stuff," Scott says immediately. "But you--that Shaw guy no one mentions used it on you, and you died."

"He put it inside me," Darwin says. "That's different than just shooting me straight on. And I didn't die, I just...took a long time to get better." He holds out an arm. "Watch."

He takes a butcher knife, borrowed from the kitchen, and stabs himself in the arm--or tries to; it glances off the thick-plated scales he's grown over himself from fingers to elbow.

Scott yelps.

"See?" He taps the blade against the scales, drawing a line down them. They make little thunking sounds, like someone running their finger down window-blinds. "I'm fine, Scott. That's what I do: I adapt to things."

He makes the scales vanish and puts the knife away. "See? Back to normal. Still me."

Scott looks up at him from behind his glasses. They're the only thing anyone's been able to find that can withstand his "optic beams" (what Hank's calling them, and it's stuck) without getting destroyed. Darwin thinks it's some sort of quartz, but it's not a hundred percent. Anyway, they're red. "You can hide it," he murmurs.

"I can, yeah. I don't worry about that if I'm trying not to die, though. If I have to have gills, I'll have gills. Being weird isn't as important as everyone thinks." He concentrates for a second, studying Scott's glasses, and focuses on his arm.

A moment later it's gleaming a little under late morning sun, dark red against his skin. The way the light reflects off it makes Darwin think of insects. "Try it," he says. "Just once. If I'm hurt, trust me, I'll let you know."

Scott bites his lip, then closes his eyes and pushes his glasses up, squeezes one eye open a fraction.

A beam of red light no different than Alex's slams out and hits Darwin's arm like a laser beam. He staggers back a step but gets his feet and holds still, watches the quartz of his arm just...absorb it.

Like Shaw had absorbed it, when Alex had done it. Darwin shivers. "That--okay! That's good. Glasses on."

Scott closes his eye and fumbles for his glasses, puts them back on to study Darwin's arm. The quartz isn't so much as scratched. It's warm to the touch, like a car with red paint left in the sun on a bright afternoon, but that's all.

Scott gapes at him.

"See?" Darwin smiles. "No harm done."

"Can we do it again?" Scott's fairly bouncing. "Is--is that okay? It's not weird, right? If you turn all like that, you can still breathe and stuff?"

"I can still breathe and stuff." He's just changing his skin, not his internal organs. "Come on, let's try both eyes this time."


An hour later, Darwin calls it quits, at least 'til after lunch. Scott had shot him all over, just to make sure Darwin was going to be all right, then they'd gradually increased the distance. He has pretty good vision and slightly better aim, but even that's not perfect; there are a couple of trees that are nursing strange wounds right now. Scott had apologized about twenty times, and Darwin had assured him there were more than enough that he was pretty sure they wouldn't talk shit about him to the rest of the forest.

He's on his way back inside when a cheerful voice calls, "Darwin! Hello!"

He half-turns, somehow not at all surprised to see Irene walking towards him, definitely not surprised to see her dressed like a picture of Tallulah Bankhead he'd seen once: mostly men's clothes, hair pulled back into a loose ponytail. He isn't entirely thrilled by the idea that someone can see the future written in stone, but she'd assured him more than once that that wasn't it at all. "More like someone used a stick to write it on the beach and you keep trying to pile up driftwood over certain phrases so it doesn't get washed away," she'd said once, and that was actually a nice mental image. Kind of depressing, but nice. Soothing.

Erik's sort of a surprise, though. Darwin's pretty sure he missed something big in the time he was gone, but the most he can get out of anyone--anyone being Sean, in this case--is that Erik killed Shaw. Darwin supposes he should have some sort of moral indignation going on, but the guy had done his best to kill him, once; he's not really going to get all high-and-mighty that someone had killed him back. Besides, he's what his grandma would have called a straight shooter: if Erik doesn't like you, he'll just tell you to your face. He might then try to kill you, but you don't really have to wonder where you stand with the guy.

(He's also not hard on the eyes, but Darwin figures that just comes with having eyes.)

Still, both of them together is a little strange, so he just says, "Okay, what's on fire?"

"Fire?" Erik automatically looks back at the house. "Do you see smoke--"

"He's kidding," Irene says, sounding long-suffering. "No, nothing's on fire." She pauses. "We just--wanted to talk to you about something."

That's not a great way to start a sentence. Any sentence. "Okay," he says, very carefully.

"Do you still want to leave?" Erik asks.

Still blunt. Weird, how you can get used to that so fast. "Eventually, yeah. I wanted to talk to the Professor about it first, though."

"Or," Irene says, "you could talk to us first. We have--" she glances at Erik "--a propositition for you."

Darwin frowns a little. "I'm listening."

"There are other mutants," Erik says. "Plenty of them. Charles used Cerebro to get their names and locations."

"I know," Darwin says. "But Shaw destroyed that." Actually, he's pretty sure the guy with the wind-hands had destroyed it, but it's the same thing, so.

"He destroyed that one, yes. Hank still knows how to build it." Erik shrugs. "It's an amplifier. You can build amplifiers."

Darwin isn't sure what gives it away, exactly. Possibly nothing. But an amplifier is just metal and wires and circuits, and if Hank could build it again, do it better and stronger with more of a reach--with the help of a guy who controls electromagnetism and a telepath, no less--

"You're rebuilding it, aren't you?" he says. "The three of you."

Another glance. "That's the idea, yes," Irene says. She doesn't sound surprised that he gets it, the way a lot of people would; she mostly sounds...satisfied. Pleased. Like she's right about something. Oh, that's not weird at all. "But we still need people to go get them. I can't go, I'm blind--"

Like she can't drive better than a lot of people he knows.

"--and Raven doesn't want to go, she's got too much to do here." Much better reason. "Erik and Charles can't go, they've got a school to establish, and Hank--"

"Hank is now blue and covered in fur," Darwin says. "Whereas I am basically impossible to kill and used to driving a lot."

"Essentially, yes," Erik says. "And you want to go anyway." He tilts his head. "You'd be faculty."

Darwin just looks at him.

"'Head of the Recruitment Department', I believe is how Charles wants to put it," Irene says. "I think just calling you 'faculty' or 'staff' is more accurate, but if you say someone's the head of something, it gives more weight to what they're saying from a psychological perspective." She shrugs. "Up to you, really."

He's quiet for a minute. "Can I have some time to think about it?"

"I didn't think you'd be leaving overnight," Erik says. "It's an option, Darwin, that's all. You can choose to take it or not. But if you take it, you'll be helping your brothers and sisters."

"I have two sisters. They're back in Virginia."

"Not what I meant."

"I know." He scratches the back of his neck. "I...I promise I'll tell you when I've made a decision."

Erik just nods. Irene smiles at him and turns to go, but turns around and walks backward on her way to the house.

"Of course," she says, "you could always ask Alex if he wants to go, too. I bet he'd say yes."

And then she stops talking, facing forward and jogging across the lawn.


He doesn't do that, though. He asks Hank and Sean what they think.

Clearly, Raven and the Professor are aware on some level; if they didn't help conceive of the idea, no way would Irene or Erik keep it from them. Jean and Warren aren't here full-time, and Scott and Ororo are just kids; they hadn't been here at the start, so it's not the same.

He doesn't think about why he doesn't ask Alex.

He finds Hank and Sean are at the top of the satellite dish. Sean's in this weird kind of...vest thing with bumblebee stripes, black and yellow, and he's sitting at the edge the way most people would sit on the edge of a bathtub. Hank's still on the little railing near the top, peering down and looking a little nauseated.

"--am I supposed to tell her? 'Oh, hey, Maeve, I've been in New York for six months for reasons I can't tell you'?"

"Her name is Maeve?" Hank says doubtfully.

"Her parents came over from Ireland, like, twenty years ago," Sean says. "They're really traditional, which is another--hey, man." He waves at Darwin. "You want to race?"

"I'm not great at flying," Darwin says. It's not modesty; he's actually tried evolving wings once or twice, and they're functional, but he looks and feels ridiculous; every single time ends with him plowing into the ground. Sean, at least, is starting to get a handle on actually landing and not just crashing. "Actually, no. I wanted to ask you guys something."

"If it's about girls, you really need to not talk to Hank," Sean says cheerfully. "He keeps staring at this picture of some girl at a paper he gets from town--"

"We are not talking about me," Hank says loudly. His cheeks are sort of purple, which Darwin guesses is the way it's gonna go now that Hank is blue.

"It's not about girls," Darwin says, and lays it all out. Not the Alex thing--not that there's actually a thing, there--but thinking about leaving, and what Erik and Irene have offered.

They're both quiet for a minute when he's done.


"You want to leave?" Sean asks. His voice isn't small, but it's definitely surprised.

Darwin blinks at him. "You don't?"

"Well--eventually, yeah. But I want to get a handle on this," he flaps his arms, "first. A better handle, I mean. I do okay, but--I didn't even think about using it to fly before I came here. I just scared fish to try and impress girls."

"You can do that anywhere," Darwin points out.

Sean just looks at him. "Dude, if I leave here and go to college or get a job or whatever, you think they're gonna be okay with me flying? Come on. They'd look at me like a freak at best. At worst, I end up in a lab or something."

"Not a lab," Hank says, and pauses, adding, "Probably."

"Right, Hank," Sean scoffs. "You used to work for the CIA! You don't think if they knew where we were, they wouldn't have people poking at us and taking samples of stuff to see if they could replicate it?"

"Okay, now you're just sounding like Erik--"

"You ever think he's not entirely wrong? I don't want to wage war on anybody, that takes a lot of time I could be spending listening to The Beatles and trying to kiss girls, but I'm not going to let myself be studied."

"Sean, if we stay here forever, how's that any better?" Darwin asks. "It's still a cage. A really nice cage, but it's still a cage."

"I didn't say forever," Sean says, "I said for now. College or a job can wait for a year. I want to go out and have a life, man. So do you. I don't think they're saying--I think they're asking you to help while you go out and have a life. Is that so awful?"

"I'm not saying that!" Darwin says, exasperated. "I'm just--Hank, you want to jump in? Feel free."

"Why?" Hank blinks at him, legitimately baffled. "I think..." He's quiet for a minute. "We're in a unique position, here. We can help people, keep them safe, help them get a handle on what they can do without anyone judging them or calling them a freak. Even when we--" we, Darwin notices; he was right "--get Cerebro rebuilt and running again, it's gonna be a big job."

"Oh, what," Sean scoffs, "for like a weekend? You found, what, four of us?"

"Four of you said yes," Hank says. "The initial numbers we pulled with Cerebro were about a hundred."


"It would've been more, but Shaw kind of put us in a crunch. If we could fine-tune it enough, extend the Professor's reach, keep him from getting exhausted using it--" Hank's quiet for another minute. "I don't have enough data to make a guess at the numbers without just making stuff up, but--there's a lot of us. There's more than you think. And even if Shaw wasn't right and it has nothing to do with the prevalence of nuclear power, that means it might be a natural evolutionary process. Which means the numbers are going to keep going up."

A lot of us. Darwin stares out at the grounds. Kids like him. Kids like all of them. Adults, even: people who can do incredible things, or stupid little stuff, and think they're alone. Who think they're freaks. People who are praying to be normal, not realizing that they already are. People in danger, people who are lost, people who just need to know that they never have been.

"I think it's too important not to do," Hank says quietly, "and if you don't do it, someone else will. No one will think any less of you."

Which is probably true, because Hank can't lie for shit. But Darwin would think less of himself--just a little, and he could deal with it. But he would.

"Goddammit," he mutters, and thunks his head against the railing. "I think I have a job."


That night, after dinner--and a really long walk around the grounds--Darwin knocks on the Professor's door.

"Darwin," he says, opening it and looking surprised. "Hello." He doesn't look like a lot like the guy who slid into the back of his cab back in Virginia; he's wearing blue pinstriped pajamas and has on reading glasses, and his hair is still damp. He looks maybe twenty. With a fake ID. A bad one. "Is everything all right?"

"Hmn? Oh, no, everything's fine." He can't quite fault him for asking; everyone tends to leave the Professor alone past a certain time of night, and that was about two hours ago. "I just wanted to talk to you about something."

"Yes?" The Professor looks at him, waiting.

"About--what we talked about earlier."

He frowns. "Did everything go all right with Scott? He seemed fine at dinner--"

"No, not that. About...the job opportunity? I'd like to say yes."

"The job op--" The Professor pinches the bridge of his nose. "I will stab him," he mutters. "I will stab him in the arm with something plastic so he can't take it away from me, I swear--"


He looks at Darwin and sighs. "That--did Erik talk to you?"

"Him and Irene, yeah."

He pinches his nose again. "I can't stab Irene, Raven would be furious," he mutters, then: "Erik!"

Two minutes pass. Darwin keeps meaning to interrupt and ask what's going on, but the Professor's face is pretty mobile, so he can guess: telepathic conversation. He'd like to hear it, but not enough to ask to be included. They'll remember he's there eventually, and they'll talk to him.

Three minutes. He's starting to wish he'd brought a book.

"--not stab me," Erik says, coming out of the en suite bathroom, towel slung over his shoulders and clad in a pair of what look like the Professor's pajama bottoms. "As if I'd let you--" He stops, looks at Darwin.

Darwin waves. "Hi."

"You have got to start remembering to include everyone in the conversation," Erik says fondly, and doesn't look at all put out at being found taking a shower in the Professor's bathroom. Or--well, his, too, Darwin supposes. "You're saying yes?"

"There are conditions," Darwin says, because he's put some thought into all this. Walks are good for thinking things out, around here; he's pretty sure that's why there's actual walking paths. "One: you have to come up with something better than 'Head of the Recruitment Department'. That sounds just--" he waves a hand "--not-great. Suspicious. It doesn't instill a sense of safety, especially around kids."

"Fair enough," Erik says, inclining his head to show he gets it. "What else?"

"Two: I'm not it. I've never been on a plane, I don't want to start now. I'll do a lot of it, maybe even the majority, but everyone else gets to take a turn, too. This whole thing doesn't live or die on my shoulders."

"Of course not," the Professor says, as if this is perfectly sensible. Maybe it is, to him.

"Three: if I ever want to leave--leave all of this, not just the grounds, go back to Virginia or another state or whatever and try to have a normal life--you don't argue with me."

Erik looks like he wants to start arguing right then, but the Professor glares at him. "I'm not going to say I wouldn't be sad to see you go," he says, "but I understand."

Of the two of them, Darwin knows, he's the more likely to even try. But it still needed to be said.

"Okay," he says. "Then--I don't know. I'll wait around 'til you get Cerebro up and running again, maybe go home to visit my parents, let them know I'm not actually dead--"

"I did that already," the Professor says, and taps the side of his head. "And the CIA hadn't gotten around to officially classifying you as dead, thank God, because that would have been piles of paperwork and at least six other people to..." he scratches the back of his neck "...convince."

"Or," Erik mutters, "the CIA doesn't think we're people, and thus doesn't have to make death notifications--"

"We are not having this argument at this time of night," the Professor says, kind of loud, and looks back at Darwin. "It'll be another month, maybe two at the most. Rebuilding Cerebro should be much easier. We might not have the financial backing or resources of the CIA, but we do have the man who built it and resources of his own."

He smiles at Erik. Erik looks like he's trying very hard not to smile back. Darwin feels like he's ten and watching his parents try not to kiss in front of him or something.

"Got it," Darwin says. "It's late. We can talk about the rest of this in the morning. I just...I'd rather I didn't wait to say anything."

"I'm glad you didn't." The Professor smiles at him. "Good night, Darwin."

"Good night, Professor." He nods. "Erik."

"Darwin," Erik says.

Darwin shuts the door behind him.


Darwin's on his way back to his room when he sees a flash of blond hair going out the front door. He only knows two people with that color hair here, and Raven's been red-haired (and blue-skinned) lately, so that leaves--

He's down the stairs and going after him before he can think about it. "Alex!" he calls, and starts to run after him. "Alex!"

Alex isn't running, though; he's sitting on the stairs, lighting a cigarette and staring out at the grounds. Darwin hesitates, then sits next to him--relatively, anyway, the stairs are sort of big. He can see, very faintly, the lights from Westchester proper down the road.

Neither of then says anything for a while.

"Look," Darwin says, "you want to be weird around me or whatever, fine, but that's on you. I didn't do anything wrong. All I did was not stay dead. And yeah, I'm sorry I camped out in your lungs, but that wasn't entirely me. My power...sometimes it just kicks in. I can do things if I put my mind to it--I'm getting better at it--but it's still mostly automatic, like cutting onions and your eyes watering. Yours were...I don't know. The closest lungs I trusted or whatever."

Alex doesn't say anything.

"Okay! Nice talking to you." He gets up to go back inside.

In the darkness, Alex says, "I killed you."

Darwin turns. "What?" he says, incredulous. "No you didn't. Shaw did."

"And if I hadn't hit Shaw, he wouldn't have had the energy to shove down your throat." Alex glares at him. "He put it down your throat. Do you get that? You--you were rocky, and my energy was inside you, and you started to crack."

He sounds horrified. Darwin doesn't blame him. The actual details of how he got disembodied are still iffy; he just remembers that it hurt like a bastard.

"Yeah," he says, "and if you hadn't, he'd've--I don't know, shot me or whatever. Put the force of a couple hundred bullets down my throat. Just as effective."

"But it wouldn't be me who did it!" Alex shouts, and Jesus, his face is so red. He's breathing so hard.

Darwin's quiet for a minute, lets Alex compose himself.

"You listen to me, Alex Summers," he says. "You listening? Nod if you are."

After a few seconds, Alex nods. Darwin sits next to him and speaks slowly and clearly--not because he thinks Alex is dumb, he's really not, but because when you talk that way people instinctively make themselves listen.

"What happened was not your fault. It was Shaw's--or Schmitt's or whatever the hell his name was. Me being temporarily gone is on that guy, not you. He was full of shit anyway, talking about how he wouldn't hurt us, but the minute I tried to get Angel away from him, he tried to kill me. That's bullshit. That's cheating. That's nothing you're responsible for."

Alex is still quiet.

"You know what you are responsible for? Stopping Shaw from starting another world war. Saving lives. Whatever you did to go to prison, Alex, that made up for it. You're taking care of your little brother. You get a fresh start. Not everyone does." He tilts his head up. "Okay?"

He can see the moment Alex looks at his mouth. "D--"

"Yeah, about that." Darwin takes his hand away. "I'm not gonna make out with you on the steps of a giant mansion, so you can just stop that right now."

"What?" Alex's cheeks burn. "I wasn't--"

"Bullshit you weren't. But it's late and things are still weird, and I kind of...I accepted a job offer from the Professor," Darwin says. "So you're gonna finish your cigarette, and I may or may not bum one off you. Then we're gonna go inside and go to sleep, and get up in the morning and have breakfast, and then we're gonna talk some more about the job and how it could affect you. But we're not gonna do anything about this--" he gestures between the two of them "--tonight."

"...okay," Alex says, after a long beat. "That's fair."

"I know it is." Darwin nudges his shoulder. "Seriously, hand me one. I haven't had nicotine in months, I think I'm getting twitchy."

Alex ducks his head, smiling, and gives him the pack.

this one is straight-up kind of open-ended, mostly because it's going to be concluded/finished/left less open-ended in Alex's part, which...will not be the next one. (Hank is next, I think. Alex is next to less, before the epilogue and not counting picfic, which jumps all over the goddamned place.)

I'd like to think I did not totally fuck up Darwin too badly. if you think otherwise, concrit is appreciated and can be sent to iphignia939 [at] yahoo [dot] com, same as ever. (that's a standing order, btw.)

in the comics, it's not that weird to see people--usually the Professor and Jean, especially in later years, like "before the last time she died"--going around to invite students to the school, but I don't know that they had a specific department for it. XMFC set up pretty neatly that maybe they should.

also canonically, magneto and the professor built Cerebro together. it only makes sense that they rebuild it here (with Hank's help, as in movie canon, he did it the first time.)

yes, the Maeve thing is a setup for Sean's bit. I just like the idea that once magneto's shoved you off a satellite dish as a teaching tool, the satellite dish is no longer that fucking scary.

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