Storm was looking through the window, at something outside. Wolverine was standing behind her, wondering what she was looking at.
"He comes here everyday, did you know that?" She suddenly brought out. Wolverine moved closer to the window, looking over her shoulder. Searching for the person she was talking about. He then sniffed the air.
"I can smell him, even if he's miles away but without his stupid helmet I can't find him." He replied. She pointed towards a faint figure sitting behind a chessboard and sighed. She then turned to face Wolverine.
"We are not the only ones who are wishing things were different"

He was staring into space, his eyes glued to the chessboard. Every five minutes he tried to move a pawn. The pawns first. He remembered. He wasn't sad. He wasn't angry. He was a cocoon of Magneto. He was Eric. He was a human. He was nothing. And still he hoped, as if by magic, he would regain his powers. Or that someone would atleast sit at the opposite side of the chessboard and challenge him, that someone would try and beat him. He smiled at the memory.
"Come on Eric, why don't you try again? You might win this time..." Those wise, friendly eyes. The strange, eerie smile which made you wonder what on earth he was up to. His old friend.
He again looked at the chessboard, the memory had faded. Faded with his sense of time, how much of it had passed since it happened? It seemed years had passed, but they had to be months. A day seemed a lifetime now.

He had been angry, he had been angry many times before. About how everything had turned out, how wrong everything had gone. It had all been within an arms reach... But he knew he wasn't angry about that. He wasn't angry with them. He was angry with him. Himself. And how many times he tried to tell himself that he was angry because they hadn't done they're work properly, he knew it wasn't true.

It was starting to get dark. He knew it was time to leave. But he couldn't get himself to stand. It didn't matter to him anyway. It was raining softly, and it suited him. It comforted him. Against all his best efforts he again wondered where she was now. What she was doing. He used to know. She would've been sitting opposite him, listening intently to his newest plan. Or she would've been on the road, getting whatever he'd need, sometimes just information for some plan. Now he guessed she was cooking herself a meal. Or she would be asleep, in bed. He didn't know what time it was. He had smashed his watch days ago, when it wouldn't listen to him, to the power he used to have.

Slowly he looked up from the chessboard. For a second, vaguely, he realised that it was starting to brighten up. It was starting to become morning. He barely thought about his old friend anymore, he actually only thought about her now. The memories sometimes came to life. Her laugh, after he had complimented Rogue on her hair. But mostly her scream when she threw herself infront of him, and became human. But mostly her echoing cries while he walked away from her, but mostly the sound of his footsteps. But mostly his words. "Too bad, she used to be so pretty"

For the first time in years, or was it months?, someone sat on the opposite side of the chessboard. Short black hair and a hat on her head. Dark black eyes which he wouldn't have recognised as hers if she has been standing in a crowd. The all-knowing look in her eyes, that told him she felt sorry for him, but knew she would never be able to describe it with words, or that she would never dare to claim to feel the same. The wordless connection with which he told her he knew all that, he knew everything, and that he was sorry for abandoning her. They sat in silence for five minutes. Ten minutes.
Then, without saying something she raised her arm and set her first pawn. He looked up, surprised and saw a familiar twinkle in her eyes and he could almost see the same twinkle in his own eyes. The same twinkle in his eyes, reflecting in hers.

The pawns first...