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[tolaywaste]

[Alex is praying. He's in the chapel with his head bowed, like he's been since just after lunch, and he thinks he's gonna stay until dinner. It probably won't help in the grand scheme of things, but it's quiet here, and that's what he wants. Space to think. Or feel, maybe.]

[He woke up to a flood that drew the very worst memories of his life out of him, laid them on display for anyone at all to see, and now that the smoke is clearing he finds himself in mourning again. It's unexpected how much he misses Pietro, like a sharp pain between his ribs. He wasn't a brother, wasn't important in the same way that Ben or Sean or Armando are, but he was - is - important. He understood things implicitly, things about family that Alex doesn't like to explain.]

[So Alex isn't sure what he's praying for, exactly, other than Pietro's safety. Maybe his, maybe Anya's, maybe nothing in particular. All he knows for sure is he doesn't want to leave.]

Comments

[wecanavenge]

[The chapel is non-denominational, which Erik appreciates, but it's also...blank, in a way. A clean, white space, yes, and he's never been very religious - not in years, anyway - but it strikes him as empty, now.]

Have you ever been in a synagogue? [He glances at Alex, sees just the tail end of that awakening, and it pulls at him, but he doesn't make the connection yet. He heads for the dais instead, stops where a pulpit would be. He nods to the wall.]

There would be an eternal light hanging just here, over the Ark.

[tolaywaste]

[He shakes his head, a mute no. He would like to, he realizes suddenly. Would like to know that part of Erik's life, the part that was taken from him. Because he's important in the same way, but the opposite way, that Charles is. Alex won't say it, but they both know it's true.]

[He only knows in broad strokes what the eternal light is, its purpose in ceremony. But he thinks Erik will tell him, or at least indicate enough that he might know. His eyes brighten slightly, intent as a child's.]

[wecanavenge]

[Erik nods once, looking around like he's seeing a different building, filling in the details. Memories he hasn't considered in a long time. He's half turned toward the dais, painting the picture without turning his back to Alex. He gestures with one hand.]

The Ark would be here. When I was a boy, there were only one Torah inside, but I've heard of temples keeping more. Five at least. and they'd be dressed - with a velvet cord to keep the scroll together, a matching dress to protect the parchment, and a crown.

[It's a stunning sight in his memory, even in the poor little synagogue he attended as a child. It was destroyed on Kristallnacht, the Torah burned.]

And the eternal light-- [He breaks off for a moment, lowers his head and smiles just a little ruefully.] It hangs over the Ark, a reminder of God's eternal presence.

[There's a wryness in his tone; he misses the culture of his childhood, appreciates it, but he doesn't believe anymore.]

[tolaywaste]

[He watches the gestures, then closes his eyes, trying to imagine what's being described. What Erik has, he's sure, not seen in years, what Alex has never seen.]

[He rubs the heels of his hands in his eyes before he opens them, and small supernovas go off in his line of sight.]

Eternal presence.

[He nods, just slightly, but he doesn't seem all that convinced. He doesn't really believe anymore, either, in anything but people. And not even them, some of the time.]

[wecanavenge]

[Erik's not trying to convince, and he shoots Alex a small, rueful smile. Believing is the easy way out, he thinks. Because there was a time when he did believe, with all his heart and soul. He believed in doing mitzvot, he learned how to wrap the tefillin he would wear after his Bar Mitzvah, he learned the prayers while sitting on his father's knee and listening to his mother sing.

That was another lifetime, before the ghettos and the camps, before everything spiritual and godly was taken from him and replaced with monstrosity.

He believed that, for a long time. He doesn't believe it so much anymore.

Sliding his hands into his pockets, Erik steps down from the dais, moving to sit next to Alex.]

It's a nice thought, I suppose.

[tolaywaste]

It is a nice thought.

[Maybe someday he'll believe again. He's learning to believe in himself, which he never thought he would. That's just a couple steps beyond.]

[He catches Erik's eye and finds himself surprised when the older man moves to sit down next to him. It's not like them to talk like this - although, of course, Alex always thinks this when they start talking exactly like this. He shifts slightly to give Erik more room.]

I don't really know why I came here, to be honest. Here, specifically. I don't believe, and this place isn't - it's not my place.

[wecanavenge]

[Erik nods silently. He doesn't duck into synagogues anymore, or try to catch the last moments of a service. He hasn't said Kiddish in years. It's been longer since he recited the Kaddish. But there was a time, after the camps and before leaving Magda, that he would desperately sit through a service, prayer book clutched in his hands, lips pressed tight together.]

Maybe you want to believe.

[He had, once. He had wanted to believe again so badly.]

[tolaywaste]

[Alex considers this. It feels almost true. But there's a niggling wrongness at the edges of the hypothetical that make him think . . . probably not.]

It's hard enough to believe in people, [is what he says eventually, revealing a burden that doesn't feel like one until abruptly it very much does.] It seems like a lot to ask, that I should believe in anything more.

I wish I could. It's just not in me.

[The brand of faith he clings to is inspired by human beings, or mutants, or being analogous thereto. He believes that no one is without hope, without potential. But God? No. Probably never again.]

[wecanavenge]

[It earns a curious, sidelong look, and Erik studies him for a moment, hands linked between his knees.]

But you believe in them? The people you surround yourself with. [Erik believes in himself, in select others. He believes in doing what he feels is right. It's not as wide a scope, and he almost admires Alex for it.]

[tolaywaste]

[Glancing up in time meet Erik's eyes, Alex frowns, tight-browed and serious, then nods.]

I do.

[I believe in you, he says with every part of himself but his words. He won't look away first. He believes in Erik as much as - more than - he believes in anyone.]

[wecanavenge]

[It comes with noise and clarity, and, after a moment, Erik finds himself smiling. It's not surprised, not even unexpected. He wasn't asking about himself.

But he appreciates it, enough to pat Alex's back in a quietly, distanced but affectionate way.]

[tolaywaste]

[It's not just about Erik - but it all starts with him. Erik betrayed him, looking at it from a very specific, very selfish perspective. If he'd never figured out that he could forgive Erik, he'd never have been able to believe in him - never would have been able to believe in everyone the way he does now.]

[Alex grins and ducks his head, then nudges Erik with his shoulder. They don't really need words. They're pretty awful at them anyway.]

[wecanavenge]

[Their collective way with words ususally clashes, ends in yelling and anger. Erik recognizes it, and is satisfied with the quiet. He chuckles, letting his arm settle on the pew behind Alex after squeezing his shoulder.

For a moment, a long moment, he just sits there, achingly...content. He wonders if it could have been this way all along, if not for Shaw, if not for what happened in Cuba. They are difficult questions, and he will never have those answers.

Eventually, he rises, because though Alex isn't alone, he has a right to his privacy.]