Xaviers!

Roland paced back and forth in his cell, anxiously. It was wrong. He knew it; could feel it in his blood. The end of times were upon them -- reality dangling on the edge of a knife.

He slammed himself into the forcefield of his cell for the nth time, hoping that this time, it would draw the attention of one of his captors.

"I can assure you the forcefield is going to hold no matter how many times you throw yourself into it. But by all means, continue." Ashlie says as she walks down the hallway and steps into view in front of his cell.

Roland didn't waste any time on preamble.

"I know you do not believe me. I know you think my beliefs are crazy. But you must listen, for the sake of the world.

You must get me out of here. I can feel that it has returned. Send me to Muir, or to a high-security prison in the States. Send me to the center of the Earth or a distant star. But you must get me out of here, and quickly."

"You're scheduled to be transferred to Muir next week. I might be able to speed up that process if you're willing to cooperate."

"What do you need," he said, agreeing very quickly. "What must I do."

"Promise me not to try to harm Will Stanton again. Or anybody else innocent for that matter."

"By not harming Will Stanton, I'm agreeing to let the world fall into ruin and destruction. I'm not a heartless monster."

"Neither am I. Metaphorically speaking. You want to protect the world. There are better ways than murder."

"I've been studying this for thousands of years, and there really isn't.

And it's not particularly relevant. Keeping me here does not alter the need to remove the Cooking Pot from the order of things; and neither does moving me. It's the same situation in either case. I'm not asking you to free me; there's plenty of time for that. I'm not asking for a weapon to destroy it; there's plenty of time for that.

I'm asking you to prevent a tragedy. Something that, at this point, may be within only your power to do. If you do not act, the deaths of billions will be on your hands."

"Things change. What used to be impossible has been turned trivial by the advancement of both technology and mutantkind. Guarding the 'Age of Man' is a noble goal but ultimately pointless if you refuse to accept the possibilities it has wrought. I will move you, but I strongly urge you to reconsider what you assume is set in stone."

"I will give your suggestion all the weight and importance it deserves."

"Insult me all you want, it's not going to justify your inflated sense of self-importance. Would you be more comfortable with a rocket to carry you among the stars? Or maybe shunted away in a pocket dimension? Induced quantum phase-shift? I can build a lever to lift you out of this plane of existence if all you wish is to never risk coming into contact with Will Stanton again."

"Ah, the problem there is, if I'm out of this plane of existence, a new one will eventually rise to replace me. One without the knowledge I have. Are you willing to spend eternity tracking them down and eliminating them? Dedicating your life to it?"

"Or so you claim. Nothing is fool-proof, no rules unbreakable. But until I've come to understand and categorize the metaphysics of your claims you're welcome to spend the immediate future on an isolated island off the shore of Scotland."

"That will suffice as a temporary band-aid. You are doing your part in saving the world, atomoton."

"Yes, I'm sure this is what my mother had in mind when she build me."

"We can't live our lives in service to our mothers."

"Easier done for some than others." Ashlie responds coldly.

"Some paths we trod are more worn than others, but nothing is gained in yelling at the road," Roland quoted.

"No, instead you prefer you throw yourself into forcefields. Don't patronize those voicing their displeasure with trite generalizations. Some of us are not above accepting help."

"I asked for help, many years ago. You refused. As is your prerogative.

My path is a difficult one, but it must be followed to it's conclusion."

"You asked for killers. You refused the help we do have to offer. Enjoy Muir." she says, turning to leave.

Roland felt no need to slip in the last word, and simply went back to the bench in his cell to prepare himself.

Not much later, Tosh made his way into the cells.

"Sending you away already, huh?" he asked with only a slight chill under his friendly exterior.

"Be thankful that it's so. I can already feel the dimensional borders fraying, and the Rift forming.

You've done a great deal of damage to the universe, boy. I hope you are proud of that."

"What? Not confident in your seemingly pointless backup plan?"

"I'm...afraid you have me at a bit of a loss."

"The crap from Setec Astronomy you dumped into him that's overriding his ability to shift... by choice anyway. I fail to see how letting others control it helps you."

"My goal was to prevent him from shifting back at all. I made no attempts to let anyone else control his shifting. What possible benefit would that give me?"

Shiiit. Did I just tell him Will's new weakness?

"You're telling me you spent all that time and mystical juju planning this just to make a mistake?"

"My mistake was leaving you alive when you learned of my mission, so many years ago.

Rest assured, I will not make that mistake again."

Gulp.

He failed to fully hide the emotional impact of receiving his very first death threat. To his credit, he only trembled a little.

"Well if you're right the Fae will probably kill me for you when they invade."

"Your headmistress has seen some sense, and is sending me away. That will, at least, delay things until they can reach a more long-term solution."

"Why not just leave the planet? You seem to have the connections to make that happen."

"My connections aren't as large as you think.

And I suspect that if I left, my role would simply be replaced, and the world would be left without anyone with the knowledge or drive to do what must be done."

"How can someone who isn't dead be reincarnated? For that matter, how can someone from another universe and born before this world's Tools even fall under your prophecy?

"It's a role chosen by the Gods themselves, boy. Contracts and compacts. A decision I made that I've spent the rest of my life trying to overcome. If I am removed from the picture, the Dagda will find some way to twist some other poor soul into doing his bidding.

I do not know how the Cookpot became so. I do not know the details of his betrayal to the Tuatha Dé Danann. They do not matter. All that matters is what is."

"How convenient for you. Especially with others doing all the sacrificing."

"Boy, do you think I've wanted to spend my entire life fighting a never-ending battle against a force far stronger than I am? You think my life has been a pleasant one? You think I enjoy know that if I let up, even for a moment, millions will die or be enslaved? You think it's easy carrying the weight of the world on your shoulders? I'm no Atlas. I'm the one who can fight back, and so I do."

"I think you're a sad old man who's lost his faith. First in his gods and then in the very world he claims to protect. What makes you so absolutely sure the human race can't beat these monsters back?"