"Lydia!" Victor's voice cut through the tense silence as he moved towards his sister, his large form enveloping her in a warm, brotherly hug. His smile was genuine, a welcome contrast to James' seething quietude. "You look well. Can I get you something? Water? Beer?"
"No, thank you, Victor. I'm fine." Lydia's voice was soft, but firm. She moved to an old wooden chair, her royal attire making the shabby furniture seem out of place.
James watched Lydia, his blue eyes like slivers of arctic ice. Finally, heaving a heavy sigh, he sank into the worn-out couch opposite her, his rigid posture betraying his internal turmoil. Victor joined him, his larger frame taking up most of the couch, his body language much more relaxed.
Silence fell once more, hanging heavy between them like a dense fog. Lydia scanned the room, her eyes falling on a photo of her and her brothers from their childhood. She remembered the innocence of those days, the love they had for each other. She missed that.
Victor, always the peacemaker, was the one to break the silence. "Wow," he chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck, "this is more awkward than that time you walked in on me and…"
His joke trailed off into a nervous laugh. Lydia responded with a small smile, appreciating Victor's attempt to lighten the mood. James, however, remained stony-faced, his hands clenched into fists.
Shifting her attention from Victor, Lydia turned her gaze back to James. "How have you been, James?" she asked softly.
Her question hung in the air, laced with an earnestness that was both heartwarming and heartbreaking. James' eyes bore into hers, a silent battle raging behind his icy gaze. The weight of his anger, his pain, his grief—it was a storm brewing in the quiet space between them. Lydia knew she would have to weather that storm if they were to find some semblance of peace.
James' eyes flickered, the tension in his jaw unyielding. He studied his sister's face, as if trying to decipher the emotions behind her calm exterior. The silence stretched, thick and taut, until finally, he spoke.
"Been?" James's voice was low, layered with a frosty edge. "You want to know how I've been, Lydia?"
He chuckled mirthlessly, his icy gaze never leaving her. "I've been having nightmares. Nightmares of children crushed under rubble, their blood on my hands. I've been seeing their faces every time I close my eyes."
He paused, his breath hitching. Victor shifted uncomfortably, the cheerful aura he carried moments ago evaporating in the face of his brother's pain.
"I've been blaming myself, wondering if there was something else I could have done," James continued, the rawness in his voice cutting through the tense silence. "But then I remember. It wasn't my fault. It was yours."
Lydia remained still, her expression unreadable. She felt the sting of his words, but she didn't wince or retaliate. Instead, she allowed the silence to return, filling the room with its suffocating weight once more.
"Is that so?" Her voice was quiet, but steady. There was a depth of emotion in her words, an amalgamation of guilt, regret, and a quiet, underlying resolve. She knew she had to face this. James deserved that much. "I'm sorry, James. More than you could possibly imagine."
She took a deep breath, steadying herself. "And I'm sorry that my apology might not be enough. But I will do everything I can to make things right. That's all I can offer right now."
The room was silent once again, the tension between them a living, breathing entity. Yet, in the midst of it all, Lydia's calm demeanor never wavered. For every barb that James threw at her, she countered it with the serene strength of someone who had accepted their sins and was ready to atone for them. It wasn't an easy path, but Lydia was ready to walk it.
James' stare hardened, his icy eyes boring into Lydia. "Sorry? You think 'sorry' can bring back the dead, Lydia? Can it undo the damage you've caused?"
His voice was harsh, the harshness morphing into a bitter snarl. The fury he had harboured all these years had found its outlet, and it was aimed like a guided missile at Lydia.
"You're an Empress now, ain't ya? You got a whole planet, an empire. You've become what, the most powerful person in the universe? Yet, you couldn't save a handful of kids?" His voice broke, and he fell silent for a moment. When he resumed, there was a dark, bitter edge to his words. "For all your power, you're still as weak and useless as you were back then."
His accusation hung in the air like a poisoned dart, its venom seeping into the quiet room. Victor tensed, his eyes darting between Lydia and James. "Jimmy..." He began cautiously, but his brother held up a hand to silence him.
"No, Vic, let her hear it," James spat out, his gaze never leaving Lydia's face. "For once, let her face the consequences of her actions."
Victor flinched at his brother's harsh words. He knew that James was hurting, that he was grappling with his own demons. But this? This was too much.
"James," Victor's voice was firm, but held an undertone of desperation. "That's enough."
James ignored him, his rage-fuelled rant continuing unabated. "You should have died instead of them."
The room fell deathly silent. Victor gasped, his eyes widening in shock as he looked at his brother. "James!" he cried, "You don't mean that."
The atmosphere in the room grew heavy, a storm cloud of past hurts and unspoken resentment hanging ominously over them. James, shaking with the effort it took to keep his voice steady, spat out the next words with vitriol that was laced with years of suppressed anger.
"You're just like her, Lydia. Just like our dear, dead mother," he seethed. "Knowing the struggles we had, knowing what Dad went through, yet you turned your back on us, just like she did. Just like she did with Victor's dad...with our real dad."
The words pierced through the room like a blade, slicing through the tension and hitting its mark. Lydia recoiled as though physically struck. It was a low blow, invoking the name of a woman whose actions had left a trail of hurt in their lives.
Victor had watched the exchange in silence, but James' outburst was too much. His protective instincts flaring, he jumped to his feet and grabbed James by the shoulder, forcing him down onto the couch. "James! Enough!" he barked, his voice echoing around the room.
Lydia remained still, her regal posture unyielding. But a slight twitch in her brow and the tightening of her lips were the only indications of the pain James' words caused her. It felt like a punch to her gut, the harshness of his words and the truth they carried ripping into her.
The comparison to their mother was a wound that cut deep. She had always tried to rise above the shadows of her mother's legacy, to be a better person, a better leader. But to hear from her own brother that she was no different...
In her silence, a multitude of emotions rushed through her: shock, hurt, guilt, but most overwhelmingly, a sense of sadness that she and her brothers were divided by this barrier of resentment and misunderstanding. Despite the pain his words caused, she didn't blame James. He was speaking from a place of deep-seated pain, and she understood that. It was her responsibility to bridge the gap and mend the rift, a task she accepted wholeheartedly. Because, in the end, they were still family.
The air was thick with tension, filled with unsaid words and unprocessed emotions. Lydia looked at James, her emerald eyes calm yet filled with pain. It took her a moment to collect her thoughts, to process the sting of James' words. The room was silent, the only sound the occasional car passing by on the street below.
Finally, she spoke. Her voice was steady, a soft contrast to James' earlier outburst. "I understand, James. I understand your anger, your pain," she said, her words heavy with regret. "What happened that day...the lives that were lost...I can never change that, no matter how much I wish I could. All I can offer is my sincerest apology and the assurance that I learned from that tragedy."
There was no defensiveness in her tone, just a profound sense of remorse and understanding. It was a humble admission of her mistake, an acceptance of her part in the tragic events of that day.
"I've made it my life's mission to ensure that such an incident never occurs again," she continued, her gaze never leaving James. "In the aftermath, I created the Genoshian Empire. Not just for mutants, but for Inhumans, alien species like the Dwarves and Skrulls, and even regular humans. It's a place of peace and prosperity, a society where everyone is treated equally, irrespective of their origins."
As she spoke, her eyes flickered with a spark of passion, her words painting a vivid picture of her vision for a more inclusive world. It was a testament to her growth, her evolution from a young mutant grappling with her powers to a leader committed to creating a better future for all.
Despite the hurt, Lydia hoped that James would see the sincerity in her words and actions, that he would understand that she was trying her best to make amends, to heal the wounds of the past. Her heart ached for reconciliation, for the chance to mend their broken relationship. For now, all she could do was hope.
Lydia's gaze turned softer, melancholic even, as she observed her brothers. She had come here today not just as the Empress of Genoshian Empire, but as their sister, the youngest of the Howlett siblings. The once boisterous little girl who followed them around everywhere, adoringly looking up to her elder brothers. How much they all had changed...
Her hands clasped together in her lap, Lydia let out a soft sigh. "I came here today, not to justify my actions or to demand your acceptance. I am here because I miss my brothers," she confessed, a hint of vulnerability creeping into her voice. The stern facade of the empress softened, revealing the younger sister beneath.
Her eyes flickered to Victor, his presence a comforting pillar, always caught in the middle, trying to smooth out the rocky path that their relationship had taken. Then her gaze settled back on James. He sat there, a picture of cold resentment, his anger towards her still burning bright. She understood his feelings, his accusations, his grudge. After all, she had been there too, blaming herself over and over again.
"I... I want us to be a family again, James," Lydia said quietly. Her voice wavered just slightly, a testament to how deeply this affected her. "I know it's not easy to forget or forgive the past. And I won't ask you to do either. I just... want us to find a way forward. Together."
Her heart pounded against her ribcage, the silence stretching in the room after her declaration. A part of her feared James's response, but she knew she had to face it, regardless of what it may be. She had to try, for them, for their bond that once was... and could be again. The room filled with anticipation, their hearts throbbed in synchrony, as Lydia waited for James's response.
The silence seemed to echo in the small apartment, each ticking second reverberating through the tense air. Victor glanced between his siblings, his hands clasped together, a picture of a man praying for peace. His eyes held a plea, directed at James, one that he didn't voice out loud.
James sat there, staring at Lydia. The anger and resentment that had been burning in his eyes minutes before had now simmered down to a low ember. He looked tired, worn down from years of bearing grudges and wallowing in a past he couldn't change.
He heaved a sigh, his gaze dropping to his hands, the gnarled knuckles bearing the marks of countless battles fought. His next words, when they came, were slow and measured.
"I don't know if I can forgive you," he admitted, the honesty in his words striking. "But... I think I can try to forget."
His eyes flickered back to Lydia, a hint of the brother she once knew appearing in them. "It's not... It's not going to be easy. I can't promise that," he said, his words gaining momentum as he spoke. "But I'll... I'll try. For you. For Victor."
His jaw clenched as he finished speaking, the words seeming to cost him a great deal. His hand reached up to scrub at his face, the usual stoic expression briefly broken by the raw emotion showing through.
Lydia nodded, understanding the profound step James had just taken. It was not a full pardon, nor a warm embrace, but it was a start. And at that moment, it was enough. It was a small ray of hope, a signal that perhaps, they could find their way back to each other, back to being a family.
Victor let out a sigh of relief, smiling softly at the two most important people in his life. They had a long journey ahead, and the path wouldn't be easy. But for the first time in a long time, Victor saw a possibility for reconciliation, for healing. And that brought a new sense of hope into his heart.
The room had an air of tension mixed with a newfound sense of camaraderie, hanging like a fragrant scent that hinted at reconciliation. Lydia looked from James to Victor, her eyes heavy with a quiet, understood regret. The reunion was far from ideal, and yet, it was more than what they had been sharing for the past years.
"I would like you both to visit New Genosha," she suggested softly, her voice echoing in the room. Her tone was hopeful but cautious, understanding that her brothers may not be ready to dive headfirst into the world she'd created. "It's peaceful there. A new beginning."
James looked towards her, an unreadable expression on his weathered face. "We have unfinished business here," he responded in his gruff voice. His eyes held a hint of apology, or perhaps it was a promise of a rain check.
Victor nodded in agreement, adding, "We've been tracking someone, initialed S.S., who seems to have taken an unhealthy interest in us."
The initials rang a bell in Lydia's mind. A cold realization dawned on her as she connected the dots, causing her eyes to narrow thoughtfully. Shinobi Shaw. The name was a relic from the past, a lingering remnant of her confrontation with the Hellfire Club. The pieces came together with a click. The wolves, the venom, the traps. It bore the mark of Shaw's cunning.
"It might be Shinobi Shaw," she told them, her words heavy with a grave implication. She saw the questioning looks they exchanged and began to explain. Her narrative painted a vivid image of the events that led to the obliteration of the Hellfire Club, the rise of the Phoenix Force, and the consequential downfall of Shaw.
James' eyes were hard, reflecting the mounting tension and hostility. Shaw was a threat that they had to deal with swiftly. Meanwhile, Victor listened with an attentive expression, a glint of determination in his eyes. The information about Shaw and his probable involvement stirred a renewed urgency in him.
"I thought Shaw was gone for good after the Hellfire Club fell," Victor mused aloud, his voice carrying an undercurrent of disdain.
Lydia's gaze held a mixture of concern and resolution. "So did I, Victor," she admitted, "but it seems like we might have been mistaken."
Shaw, who had lurked in the background of their lives, had once again become a prevalent threat. Lydia couldn't help but feel a sense of responsibility. She had thrown the first stone, and now her brothers were caught in the ripples. The need to rectify this, to protect those she cared for, filled her with a steely resolve. The last of her farewells would have to wait. For now, Lydia was home, and she had a fight on her hands.