The icemancer didn’t have time to be laying around with Becca’s sister and their target around he jumped back to his feet and brought himself to a guard trying to see where Maya was. She’d more than likely be in one of the reflections but he made the mistake searching with his eye before realizing who they were fighting. An illusionist. A damn good one too apparently. Slate had trained him on how to counter them but even if he knew he couldn’t fully block them out.

Sam saw red and then heard their voices his ‘not real’ family. It wasn’t real! He closed his eye and turned his head before his vision left him. Sam didn’t move. The ice didn’t retreat.

They weren’t real!

Sam saw Alexandra walking forward holding two kids hands, their kids. One was floating off the ground and the other was doing her best to break free from her mothers grip. “Daddy!” the girl shouted and freed herself as Alexandria let go of both hands. She folded her arms as if she had been waiting on him for a while. Was he on another mission again? Why did he keep agreeing to leave them? He missed them so much he could feel the tears running down his face.

Why did he leave them? Why did he keep leaving them? They were his family. Everything he never knew he wanted and would gladly die if it meant protecting them. this wasn’t real! ‘Wake up!’

”H-Hey princess...” he choked on the words. Why did it feel like something was wrong. No... this was real. He was home. Where he belonged. With his family. “Took you long enough...” his wife said slowly walking up to him as the kids pulled him into a hug. She joined in kissing him on the lips. The icemancer’s heart ached for some reason. Why was he sad?

”Someone had to save the world. Did you miss me?” he quipped pulling back in for another kiss. “We hate it when you leave us.” his son said as he climbed onto his back levitating all of them for a moment.

”I know... me too buddy. I’ll try not to get roped into again. Don’t like being apart from you guys. The old team can’t handle things without me.” he said truthfully feeling it in his core. “Well they are going to have to.” Alex said stepping back and tapping her stomach. “I’m not doing this with another one. You are home from now on.” she said. His daughter jumped up and down. “Mommy’s pregnant! I hope it’s a girl!” she jumped up and down excitedly creating snowflakes as she jumped.

This wasn’t real. ’wake up!’

”What now!?!?” he asked his jaw hanging. ”I-I thought we were...” “Guess not.” she smiled and lifted his chin. There was no warmth in her touch as she lifted his jaw. It... felt wrong. Something was wrong.

This wasn’t real! ’Wake up! You’re being controlled!’ the voice shouted around him. He looked away from his family to follow the voice. Things were.... hazy now. The air grew colder and colder.

The air around him continued to get colder while his body remained motionless. One of the golems nearby shifted and changed shape to that of a little girl his little girl. The one who wasn’t real. Her face obscured in the ice hidden, almost forgotten. Almost. Seeing her again... her hand shifted into a blade of ice. A small one. She had done this before, many times. His little frozen princess, the one who wasn’t real the one he couldn’t forget. How could he?

The little golem the size of a child pulled back and stabbed the blade of ice into Sam’s closest leg. It was the method he discovered worked best in this situation. He swore on his ‘not real’ kids he wouldn’t allow himself to be controlled again. Ever. He’d die before that happen.

The spell Aoife had to hit the ice guy with was one that made even Aoife feel icky. As a Supreme, she had to stop anyone looking to interfere with the Cult's goals, but she could acknowledge that fucking with a traumatized person's happiest memories scored lower on the morality scale than inducing vertigo and tricking their eyes. When she escaped this encounter, maybe Aoife would send Sam a card. "Sorry for confronting you with your most joyous memories, it was pretty uncool of me," or something like that.

Of course, to manifest that reality, Aoife had to actually escape. She still had a bow-wielding mirrorwalker on her case. A bow. Seriously. Rebecca mentioned her spouse enjoyed history, but if the X-Men were deputized, a gun sounded much more practical. Not that she was rooting for Maya to have a gun at the moment. Maya's weapon was less problematic than her refuge in the mirrors where Aoife's powers held no sway.

Rebecca loved Maya, so Aoife wished the archer could see reason. Sure, magic was not Rebecca's choice, but she could not see the truth from where she was. "It was never a choice," she huffed, staying light on her toes and looking for the next arrow. "It was her fate. She was born a mutant, but magic was her birthright. It's all our birthrights." Maybe when the Cult succeeded with their final plans, Maya would remember this moment and see Aoife was right. The Welldrinkers weren't ruining lives, they were laying the groundwork to change them for the better.

There were too many ice walls. She should have called upon Constantinos. His fire would have sublimated every reflective surface in sight. He also would have tried killing Rebecca's wife and friend on sight, which was why Constantinos was not the call. She had to focus on what she could control: her subordinate was no longer in a condition to give up information and her attempt to save him was a glorious failure. He was a believer; he understood the cost of faith. The two X-Men were beyond saving at the moment, so the only logical option left for her was to make a hasty retreat.

"If you're really committed to not killing me, we can at least agree on that. Let's part paths here and Becca doesn't have to know we met behind her back." An arrow whizzed, going through and through, puncturing the Aoife's waist. The shot was well off-center, but in a hasty bid to cast one more doppelganger illusion, she presented a version of herself caught square through the back. She shouted, which was real because arrows fucking hurt, regardless of what part of you they cut through. Hoping Maya would break into the real world after a successful shot, Aoife was looking for just enough time to slink away in a cloud of invisibility, leaving behind her after-image as a distraction.

She was preoccupied with the pain-addled escape plan, oblivious to Sam being stabbed to his senses and lifting the veil of her happy dream hex.

>> "It was never a choice. It was her fate. She was born a mutant, but magic was her birthright. It's all our birthrights."

"Curing people from something they were born with, in the name of a higher power? How very fascist of you." Maya spat. She was out of patience, and at the same time dealing with the very, very heavy implications of feeling like she could, and actually would take a kill shot at his sister-in-law.

>>"If you're really committed to not killing me, we can at least agree on that. Let's part paths here and Becca doesn't have to know we met behind her back."

She shot her. In a move she knew was going to come back to bite her in the ass, Maya released the arrow in Aoife's direction. She heard the cry of pain, which sounded real, and the vibrations of illustions. She jumped out of the mirror, and the view got worse. Aoife looked injured, but it was hard to tell what was real and what wasn't. She was fleeing either way.

"Sam!" she yelled, turning to see what had happened to Sam, who had been suspiciously quiet for long seconds now. She saw blood. Dammit. "Sam? What the f*** happened?"

>>>"Sam!"

Sam’s lone eye shifted around as he was starting to get the visual of his surroundings but then remembered why he shouldn't. Becca’s sister was an illusionist or a telepath to get him to see what he saw again. How long has it been since he had stopped seeing them in his dreams? How long since his last drink now? The sudden need for alcohol and the feeling of depression was clouded by anger. Rage.

“Sam!” “Dad?” “Daddy!” the voices faded in the back of his mind when the little golem of ice started to take on a very real form. One of his daughter before removing the blade of ice from Sam’s leg and then collapsed. Tears rolled down his face, which surprised him. He didn’t think it was a sign of weakness but was surprised because he didn’t think he could anymore. His heart broke and he got angrier, all those wounds that time healed got reopened and the sudden feeling of loneliness consumed him. Depression. They weren’t real. Rage.

Roaring he focused on the pain in his leg that reminded him he was ‘here’ in the real world. He had people here who counted on him, Maya needed him right now more than he needed a drink to forget. Sam limped forward looking at the ground but felt the one who hurt him. Made him remember them more than he could handle at that moment. He hated her and wanted her to suffer. To die. So she couldn’t hurt anyone he cared about every again. It was simple. It was what he was raised to do.

Cold erupted outwards from him and focused forward to the one who hurt him. The one who hurt Maya and the one who hurt Becca. She needed to pay. Beams of blue shot forward at the ground. His eye remained focused on the ground after he layered ice on the ground trying to trap her.

The icemancer charged screaming, he was going to kill her. It was the easiest solution. A blade of ice formed in his hand as he dissipated the mist in front of her so she could see her end. Sam wanted her to see him coming, see her death and who was doing it. She’d never forget who he was after that and why she shouldn’t have crossed him or his family.

Rage. His eye looked up finally at the last moment, still feeling the pain in his leg as he was about to finish her and right before he made contact he had a image appear in the back of his mind. It was Becca, pregnant Becca. A memory he shouldn’t have had. They were in the kitchen together. Laughing and talking. She seemed happy, this would result in the opposite. The blade stopped short and his arm trembled in front of her.

‘Kill her!’ was all he could think before he staggered backwards yelled again and shot a beam of cold above them pouring all his anger into one of the most impressive displays of power he had ever conducted. The cold beam shot up and then faded as it started to snow. The whole city was going to cry frozen tears with him.

Maya was, at her core, a caring person. She hated Aoife because of what she did to their family, but her concern for a friend was always going to trump hate. This was Aoife's chance to run away, lick her wounds, and plan better for her next meeting with her sister-in-law. They could call their meeting today a stalemate.

Unfortunately, Aoife underestimated the kind of anger a mental trick could have on a man. Sam was not grateful for whatever idyllic vision she stuck him in, and now that he had shaken free from her hold, there would be consequences for the illusionist's actions.

Doing her best to limp away, Aoife was still in no condition to escape an ice trap spreading quickly over to her. Distracting Maya hinged entirely on acting and taking advantage of the situation she had created. The magic barely helped due to her little mirrorverse life hack. She could not act well enough to distract Sam, nor could she mislead his heat detection. A chill ran through her body as her right foot refused to lift from the ground. She fell, twisting her ankle, which quickly froze over. At least she could not feel the pain, though she knew the frigid numbness was far worse.

Maybe meeting her sister gave Aoife a romanticized vision of what heroes were, or at least saw themselves as in their own eyes. Sam had no pretense; he saw himself as a killer and was ready to do something about that. Aoife tried to stifle fear and focus on whatever solutions she had left that did not end in death. She could figure something out eventually if it didn't all end here. It was also very hard to think when your leg was literally freezing.

Aoife's eyes darted over to Maya, realizing that was the answer. That was her hope; that Maya would keep choosing empathy over hate. Her teeth chattered as she called out, "Maya! W-would Becca want this? Will shshshe forgive ye?"

"SAM!"

Sam was going to kill her. Whichever way Maya's feelings would tip the scales, as much as she wanted Aoife dead, the choice was not going to be hers because Sam had apparently lost his mind. Maya had seen him angry before, she knew he had killed before, but she did not want him to do it now. Not like this.

"SAM!"

Ice shot out and captured Aoife's legs, but the rest of the attack paused in the last moment. Instead, a display of power Maya had not seen before shot up into the sky. And then it was snowing. The fight was over. Maya stared, wide-eyed, at Sam. What had she done to him?...

>>"Maya! W-would Becca want this? Will shshshe forgive ye?"

"No." Maya sighed, walking up to Aoife, still trapped by the ice. "She probably won't."

She had enough practice in knocking someone out.

"Sam. Tell me you've got a safe house that can hold a magic user."

A lone watery eye looked forward to Becca’s sister as she tried to ‘reach’ Maya, it was over. She was caught and Sam could kill her. He wanted to. So badly for making him remember everything he spent years trying to forget. The happiness he felt. The disbelief knowing it wasn’t real and all the depression associated with it.

>>> "Sam. Tell me you've got a safe house that can hold a magic user."

Sam didn’t respond. His hands were shaking, he could have killed her. He should have killed her. Sam was here to talk Maya out of killing her. Things didn’t go exactly as planned. Sam reached up and wiped his eye clenching his jaw. They just fought Becca’s sister. Maya needed him to focus, his friend need him.

”... Yeah... her at least.” he said hoping that all she could do is mind whammy someone. After her display now Sam was at least ready for it.

He needed a drink.

”Sorry...” was all he had to add as he tried to swallow everything that just happened, ”Got just the place.” he didn’t know for how long. Sam limped forward towards Maya and the witch ice already slowing the bleed till he could patch it up with some bandages.

”You good?” he asked creating another reflecting doorway for them.