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Cafas let Aiden lead the way. He only knew the rough location due to a photo of the burial, google maps and some applied geography. He couldn't have said where the exact spot was. He'd given Aiden what he knew already though, so they were working on pretty much the same information.

He was reading the gravestones as they passed them, he could see Aiden was having some trouble bringing himself to do it, and didn't want him to miss the spot by accident. There certainly were some odd names around the place was about all he had learned though.

There were people here and there in the cemetery, but they either didn't recognise Aiden, or the boy's fears had been wrong. Cafas suspected they were at least a bit over the top, but who knew? He probably would have done well to have had Aiden's fears himself. Instead he got his leg well done.

That joke hurt...

He put aside his musing on the past. It wasn't helping. Looking around he had to admit the area all looked rather similar to the photo. No one spot was glaringly THE spot. That was the trouble with well manicured lawns on hills with hundreds of similar pieces of stone jutting up. It had a habit of all looking the same.

"You okay?"

For not the first time that day, he was exceedingly happy he owned next to nothing. Well, aside from a massive amount of weaponry and armour, but he had a shop for that, and a few staff members to handle the business for him now. Something else he was grateful for (though where Verdy had disappeared to remained a mystery).

The apartment, a lucky score for the price he paid, had been empty, of course. Somehow piling all the packed boxes in just made it look even emptier. He was going to have to go furniture shopping with Calley or without him, sometime in the next month or so. Not that he couldn't spend an indefinite amount of time moving out of the Mansion. They'd made it exceedingly clear that he always had a room there. One of the perks of being a X-man.

Cafas had taken the stairs with his boxes. There was an elevator available, but he didn't feel right crowding up the elevator, and the stairwell was more than wide enough. He had broken a sweat by the time he had been half done though, and the last few trips left him in a less than dry way.

The neighbours he met seemed pleasant enough, wondering which apartment he was moving into, having an introduction. A few recognised him from the film and the T.V. shows, others still from the X-men (though notably fewer) and some even brought up some baked goods just as he finished taking his boxes up. So he stood, triumphantly munching a muffin, standing next to the pitiful pile of boxes and bags that contained his entire life.

It even felt empty.

He had some time though, so he decided to take a look around. He'd of course had the tour from the real estate agent before he bought the place, but now it was actually time to start planning.

He didn't really make it far. He ended up on his own private little corner of the building's roof, a pleasant brick paved courtyard overlooking the park. The one park, the only park. He found himself reflecting on the boons of money, and for all it's wonderful value, how the place still felt empty without Calley there, without the marks and memories of the years gone by that he had left at the Mansion. This was his house, but it was yet to become his home.

He considered what to do with the rest of the money he had. He now knew the truth of the good old cliché, so he skipped the silly material things. He thought about it hard, staring out over the traffic in the street below. Eventually he settled on the idea of investment. Property seemed pretty fun, and he knew people would pay just about anything in NYC for rent. Still he felt a general sense of emptiness.

Along came another knock on the door. Cafas had no idea how long he had been there, staring out over the city. He made his way back down the stairs into his apartment. The door stood open, a curious figure looking in, searching for the inhabitant of the empty space. Cafas supposed that was him now.

"Hi!" exclaimed the man, his excitement clear. "You must be the new owner up here!" Cafas resisted the urge towards sarcasm. Of course he was, why else would he have those boxes there and no furniture? "Sure am." His response was perhaps less excited than his new neighbours initial greeting, but then, Cafas had met dozens of new neighbours today, whereas they had all only met one.

"Well, I'm Dale, I live a couple floors down in 12D! It's a pleasure to meet you..." Cafas knew the way this worked by now. "Cafas, Cafas Johnson. The pleasure's all mine Dale. Would you like to come in? I'd offer you a seat, but, well, I don't have any. I can offer you one of Marge from floor eight's delicious muffins." He gladly accepted, and for a moment his sheer energy made the place seem that little bit less empty.

"I hope you don't mind my presumption, but when I saw you were a man I figured you'd probably enjoy a few beers more than gift basket." He extended a six pack of a beer Cafas vaguely recognised. Maybe Dale wasn't so bad after all. "Thanks Dale, I sure need one after moving the boxes up the stairs. I'm dreading having to buy furniture and get it home." Cafas accepted the six pack. "Here, lets go enjoy these up on the terrace. The view's great up there."

So he shut the door and lead Dale up to the terrace where they cracked open their beers and admired the view, making small talk and discussing the best places to shop, or get coffee, or go out in the immediate vicinity of their building.

Cafas didn't feel quite so lonely, nor the apartment quite so empty, by the time their beers were done and the sun was descending towards the west. when Dale left, the place already felt a little more homey. He supposed that was the power of forming memories. Then a shiver passed up his spine, and he decided to head back to the Mansion for the night. Sure he couldn't see central park out his window there, and all his things were in the apartment, but he didn't think he could spend the night. Not without Calley.

Cafas nodded. "Yeah it's really no issue, blacksmithing got me through most of high school with my sanity in check, I like the work. I mean, I don't make everything on the anvil, a lot of it I just take the shape I want out of a block of steel, and for the handle and pommels I can just take the wood into the danger room and it can practically do it for me, though I do tend to just call up the necessary tools and do them myself. It's a quick process with a bands saw, wood lathe and belt sander." It took about 20 minutes to make a week's stock worth, depending on complexity. "And leather wrapping is a piece of cake, just glue and leather strips. The hard part is scabbards, but they're good fun."

Cafas handed back the blades. All in all he felt the chat hand gone well. He'd get the details on Conri's grave for Aiden, and watch his style at their first lesson. From there he should be able to tweak the design of the blades if necessary. He could also tweak Aiden's style, but that would be much harder.

Successful visit all things considered.

He really hoped he could give Aiden a bit of confidence, and convince him to socialise a bit. No man is an island, as the saying goes, and Aiden was no exception. Too long without friendly human interaction plays havoc on the mind. Plus maybe having a few extra friends to talk to, play games with and stuff would make him happy. It was a nice thought at least.

Aiden didn't say anything. The silence seemed to speak for itself. He could almost see the internal struggle on Aiden's face. He wasn't quite sure how to respond to that. He elected to find the information for him anyway. He knew it wouldn't take long. He had a name, enrolment records would give him a date, and Cafas was pretty certain that Aiden's accent was from within New York.

Still, the fear was written all over his face. Cafas smiled reassuringly. "I could go with you. You could even wear a beanie and hoodie, it's getting cold out, no-one's going to question that, though I know you can't handle the heat. Even if they do though... Well, we're the X-men. We look out for each other." It was all he could think to say.

Cafas sat for a moment, silent. The moment stretched on. Then he spoke. "Look, I don't expect you to be a social butterfly overnight, it takes work, and your confidence has taken a beating, but just... Try okay? We only ask for your best effort in the X-men. Maybe just start small, try talking to a few people around, chat about games, or movies, or t.v. shows, try to find someone with something in common with you and start from there. You'll be surprised how easy it is. You're a good guy Aiden, don't forget it." Cafas squeezed Aiden shoulder in a friendly manner.

"Now how about you show me these rapiers of yours?"

Cafas felt for the kid. He'd had those same feelings once, and he knew they were heart wrenching, utterly destructive thoughts. He simply remained silent until Aiden was done. "He sounds like he was a great guy." Though how much was simply glorification was a matter for debate, but Cafas wouldn't voice that. It was rude to speak ill of the dead, ruder still someone's family.

"Then you couldn't look anyone in the eye. You knew they'd never understand. Never forgive you for living when he died."

He couldn't. Not that they'd given him a chance. Something about an angry mob with literal burning torches gave him the impression of how they felt though. He felt lucky he made it out alive.

"So you ran away rather than face them, or maybe they didn't give you that choice, and you didn't know where to go."

He hadn't, he'd done what he had to for survival, but he had been lost. Where to turn when you couldn't go home?

"So you found your way here, eventually at least, because hey, free shelter and food, and a distinct absence of psychopaths and murderers, sounds like a pretty sweet deal. Sure beats the street, and what other options do you have?"

It had taken him a few years, but he'd had a long way to travel.

"And then some big burly asshole comes along and makes your life hell even here, claims he's trying to help, but why should you believe that?"

Cafas sat watching Aiden. He was yet to raise his voice, and yet to show any more anger than his words. Aiden on the other hand had lost his cool long ago. There was no doubt of where the power in the conversation lay. Had there ever been? Not really. "There's something wrong about sitting by yourself all day, the activity you choose is irrelevant. As for your standards, I might take it more seriously if you had even bothered to get to know any of them. You think these kids have been through any less than you? Lost any less? They come here with no-one, treated like freaks, people trying to kill them, They come here for safety and acceptance. Then you come here and treat them like crap too. Because they don't come up to your petty standards."

"Everything in life is affected by chance, and if you are consciously choosing to make your chances worse, and worsen the chance of others, then you're being incredibly selfish. Christ, look at how you're behaving Aiden. Your brother's death wasn't your fault, but if you keep this up, you can rest assured you will have the lives of team mates and innocents on your hands."

But of course Aiden wouldn't see, because he didn't want to,and he would face his issues, he preferred to suppress them. That's how it looked anyway.

Anger could work too he supposed. Heck, anger might be very useful. Angry shouting often stopped people censoring themselves, made them open up by accident. It was very clear that Aiden wasn't backing off the "not your business" line. That was a delusion he needed to rid himself of.

Cafas forced himself to keep his voice level and caring, "You may not consider this my business, but you made it my business when you took that test. You made yourself, your physical and mental well being my business, because out there, people's lives depend on it." His life, his friends lives, Aiden's life, the lives of the people they were trying to help.

"Do you understand that? Do you get that our decisions out there can be life or death? That we need each and every person to be operating at 100%, or people die? So never presume to tell another X-man that whatever's bothering you isn't their business, because it f***ing is Aiden."

He forced eye contact as best he could. Aiden could break it, but Cafas wouldn't.