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He had lost Jeannie. There was noone else in the world who could meet him, tame his beast, the way she did. She was gone, and so were most of the other X-men.

Skulking the grounds of the mansion's ruins was too common a habit, now. When he caught the scent of an old enemy/ally, he went on the defensive, until he saw the man kneeling, brow to hard stone, at Chuck's grave.

His hand that touched that shoulder offered solace, even if neither could fill heart or mind where the holes lingered.

Eric accepted what he could have.