Sarah Across the Multiverse

Later that night—okay, fine, well past midnight—I sat cross-legged on my bed, brainstorming ways to fix my Hellfire problem. And by "problem," I mean the embarrassing reality that my supposedly badass magical powerhouse self was flinging Hellfire attacks that barely had the range of a spitball. Sure, I could boost them to reach midrange, but who was I kidding? Tossing a flaming ball like some supernatural quarterback? Too slow. Too obvious. Unless I went full Michael Bay explosion, then, yeah—good luck dodging that.

But there had to be something cooler, right? Something that screamed legendary. Maybe I could mix my Hellfire with my ice element. Fire and ice—Game of Thrones, eat your heart out. Or shadows. Shadows were my thing. Worked wonders for Life Force Drain, so why not Hellfire? The possibilities made my brain buzz with excitement.

Then it hit me: Hellfire lightning bolt. Oh, hell yes. Suddenly, I wasn't just Sarah anymore; I was a demonic, female Zeus, rocking a blood-red peplos and an Aegis breastplate with a Corinthian helmet perched just so, like, What's up, mortals? My eyes glowed with Hellfire lightning, and my hand crackled with enough raw destruction to make any god jealous.

The thought sent me into an unhinged laugh—"Wuhuahuahua!"—the kind that echoes in a room and makes you wonder if maybe you are the villain. I clapped a hand over my mouth, cheeks burning. "Okay, Sarah, tone it down. You're not evil. But damn, that'd be a look."

Cool daydreams aside, I still needed practical solutions. For now, my Hellfire weapons were my best bet—a longbow or spear for range—but they weren't exactly quick or modern. Plus, for reasons beyond me, my Hellfire constructs only worked for ancient designs. No RPG launchers. No Desert Eagles. Nothing fast, sleek, or particularly useful in a firefight. Super annoying.

Then inspiration struck again. Ghost Rider. That guy turned a regular Harley into a flaming death chariot. Why couldn't I do something similar? Okay, maybe not a flaming motorcycle—so not my aesthetic—but juicing up a weapon? Hell yeah. Especially since my pocket dimension was loaded with modern goodies, courtesy of Hell's Kitchen's finest. Thanks for your contribution, random gangsters.

I grinned as I plunged my hand into the swirling shadows beside me, rummaging like a kid in a candy store. Glock? RPG? Flamethrower? My fingers brushed something cold and heavy. I yanked it out—a double-barreled shotgun. Oh, baby. If anything deserved a Hellfire glow-up, it was this beast.

Just as I was about to light it up and unleash my inner genius, a knock at the door yanked me back to reality.

"What the hell?" I muttered, shoving the shotgun back into the shadows like I hadn't just been plotting mass destruction. If they heard my villain laugh… this was going to be awkward.

When I opened the door, I found myself face-to-face with a ridiculously attractive blonde. My heart did the thing—you know, that annoying skip-a-beat, butterflies-in-your-stomach thing.

And there she was: Raven. Her forced smile tugged at my concern like an itch I couldn't scratch.

"I just needed someone to talk to," she admitted, her voice soft. "But I didn't want to wake you, so I was, uh, standing here for a while... until I heard you laughing."

Cue internal cringe. Great. Not only did she hear me, but she probably thought I was plotting world domination. Which, technically, isn't wrong...

The effort in Raven's smile triggered a flicker of concern in me. Something was clearly bothering her. Recalling the original narrative, I considered Erik's encouragement of Raven's true form and the subsequent reprimand from Charles.

But the original story was just a blueprint, and reality had taken a different turn. Darwin's survival was a strong sign of that, a ripple from my arrival.

Pushing distractions aside, I stepped aside, gesturing her in. "Come in. You know you can always talk to me."

She hesitated, then nodded and stepped into the room. We sat side by side on the bed, and without thinking, I gently took her hand. Her fingers were cold, and her fidgeting gave her away.

"Raven, seriously. You're not yourself tonight. Whatever's on your mind, spill it. I'm here, no judgment."

Raven glanced down at our joined hands, her smile softening for a split second before the mask slipped back on. Whatever this was, it wasn't small.

Her face mirrored the storm inside her, a swirling mix of hesitation and vulnerability. My question had been an open door, but stepping through it was entirely up to her. Over the past few months, Raven and I had built something… solid. A connection. She had been there for me during my adjustment phase, her quiet support sometimes tipping into actual friendship. So, yeah, it mattered when she came to me like this. And now, I could feel that concern bubbling up like magma under the surface.

But her silence stretched on, filling the space between us with unspoken weight. Maybe she wasn't ready to spill her guts, or maybe what she needed wasn't a pep talk but just someone sitting beside her, no pressure. Still, the suspense was killing me.

"Don't worry about it, Sarah," Raven said finally, her smile more crack than substance. "Get some sleep. I'll just… keep you company tonight."

Like hell, I tightened my grip on her hand, not enough to hurt, but enough to make a point. "That's not what it looks like, Raven. Talk to me."

She hesitated, her smile faltering, but when she looked into my eyes, something in her cracked. "It's just… well…" She trailed off again before sighing in defeat. "Okay, fine. Hank spoke with me earlier."

I raised an eyebrow, instantly more alert. "Uh-huh." I leaned in, not about to let her stop now.

"He's been working on this serum," she continued, her words careful, like they might shatter if spoken too fast. "It suppresses the X-gene. If I take it, I could look… normal. All the time. No powers necessary."

Her gaze searched mine, looking for something—approval, understanding, maybe even permission. "But… is hiding who we are really the right thing to do?"

And there it was. My calm, carefully balanced poker face cracked like cheap glass. "Wait. Back up. Hank came to you with this?"

Raven frowned, tilting her head at me. "Yes, of course. Why?"

I waved it off, trying to cover for my slip. "No reason. Keep going."

But my brain was spinning. This? This was familiar. Too familiar. It was like a ghost of a memory from a story I half-remembered. Hank and his serum, Raven wrestling with her identity—it was all part of the original timeline, wasn't it? And if I wasn't mistaken, Hank would be dealing with his own transformation soon, courtesy of this same serum.

Except things were different now. Darwin had survived, and my presence had thrown more than one wrench into the gears of fate. The timeline wasn't some rigid script anymore—it was alive, shifting, and unpredictable. Which meant Raven's choice wasn't set in stone either. This wasn't a chapter from a book. This was her life. And I had to tread carefully.

Settling in beside Raven, I gave her my undivided attention as she unraveled the conversation with Hank. It wasn't just about suppressing the X-gene—it was about clawing for a semblance of normalcy. Hank, weighed down by insecurity over his oversized feet and his impending transformation, had framed the serum as a "fix." Not just for him, but for Raven too.

Hank had also encouraged Raven to embrace her true self, which was... ironic, considering the serum in question. And then he'd dropped the real bombshell: even in a world where mutants triumphed over the Hellfire Club, society would never see their kind as conventionally beautiful. That barb had stuck deep, and I could see it now, raw and aching, in Raven's expression.

Confused and vulnerable, she'd gone to Charles next, revealing her true blue self. But Charles, for all his kindness and intellect, hadn't given her the acceptance she craved. Erik, the guy who practically made "mutant and proud" his tagline, seemed too precarious an option right now. So, she'd ended up here, in my room. Not necessarily seeking answers—just solace.

And then she said it. The question that punched me in the gut.

"So, will I never be beautiful?" Her voice was softer than I'd ever heard it, tinged with a vulnerability she rarely let show.

I pursed my lips, wrestling with the truth. From society's standpoint? Her true form didn't fit the cookie-cutter mold of beauty. But that didn't make her ugly. It just made her... different. And I knew damn well that beauty was more than some arbitrary set of standards.

This wasn't part of the narrative I remembered. In the original timeline, she'd have gone to Erik by now, his bold declarations leading her toward a path of self-acceptance—and, let's be honest, some major moral ambiguity. But now, the timeline had thrown her to me. The weight of this moment wasn't lost on me, and I knew I had to handle it carefully.

"Raven," I began, my voice steady, though my heart was pounding, "forget about everyone else for a second. Just... listen to me."

Her blue eyes met mine, uncertain but searching.

"I accept you. Completely. Exactly as you are. I've told you this before, and I'll keep telling you until it sinks in. Please, believe me."

A flicker of uncertainty passed over Raven's face, a momentary doubt before a tentative hope replaced it. "Even like this?" Her voice was barely a whisper like she was testing the waters, afraid of the answer.

I didn't flinch. In fact, I didn't look away. Because I knew what was coming.

And then it happened. Raven's usual human façade melted away, and I saw her true form—blue skin rippling with scales, fiery red hair instead of the golden strands she wore like a mask, and her eyes now glowing with an intensity I hadn't fully grasped until this moment. This wasn't just a deviation from human convention. It was something much more raw, much more powerful.

But I didn't look away. I met her gaze, unwavering. "Especially like this," I said, my voice steady and firm. "Your true form is a part of what makes you strong, Raven. Don't let anyone—anyone—tell you otherwise."

I had never seen Raven in this form before. Not like this. But I wasn't about to let my mind flicker back to the movie image, the one where this powerful, startling form belonged to someone else. Someone I barely recognized. No. Raven was right here, in front of me, and I wasn't going to reduce her to a mere image or an echo of a past I didn't control.

Without hesitation, I reached out, my fingers brushing gently against her cheek. Her skin felt different—warmer, more textured—but the warmth in her eyes felt the same. "Even like this, Raven," I said, my voice soft but firm, "you're beautiful. At least in my eyes, you're very beautiful."

Raven froze, the tension in her posture saying everything I needed to know. She hadn't expected this reaction. She'd expected judgment, maybe rejection, certainly a hard, uncomfortable silence. But not this.

It was like the air in the room changed, the weight of her fear lifting, piece by piece. Showing her true form had always felt like vulnerability to her, like a risk she couldn't afford to take. The fear of rejection had haunted her—fear of being too different, too alien for anyone to accept.

The air between us shifted, charged with an unspoken understanding. Raven's question, barely more than a whisper, was thick with vulnerability. "You... really think so?" The hesitation was there, the old walls still standing just a little too high, but there was something in her voice too—something that begged to believe it.

"Absolutely." I smiled softly, tracing the contours of her cheek with my fingertips, not quite believing how right this felt. "It's a unique beauty, Raven. I can see why many would find it captivating."

The words slipped from my lips like they were always meant to be said, and I saw her eyes shimmer, the flicker of doubt finally breaking apart. The storm of insecurities she'd been carrying for so long began to clear. I could see it in the way her shoulders relaxed, in the way her golden eyes softened.

A beat of silence passed before Raven pulled me into a tight embrace, burying her face in the crook of my neck. I could feel the heat of her breath against my skin, the pulse of her heart, quick with emotion. Tears welled up in her eyes—tears I knew weren't just from relief. No, this was deeper. This was recognition. Her own recognition of herself, something she hadn't allowed herself to fully see before.

And then, that tender moment stretched, and something shifted. Her embrace deepened, and without thinking, without hesitation, our lips met. It was tentative at first like we were both unsure whether the world would keep turning if we crossed this line. But we both knew, deep down, this was inevitable.

The kiss deepened, raw and honest, and it felt like a release like all the tension that had been building between us was suddenly given space to breathe. Raven's heart swelled, but there was more than just gratitude in the kiss. It was something else, something more tender, more uncharted. A connection.

As we pulled away, the world outside felt miles away. Raven reached out, her hand brushing mine, unsure at first, but I met her hesitation with certainty. Our fingers intertwined, and I could feel the spark of warmth rush through me, through her. It was something quiet, something unspoken, but it was real.

"Thank you, Sarah," she whispered, her voice thick with emotion. "For everything."

I held her hand, squeezing it gently, not needing words to convey the depth of what was shared between us. But I spoke anyway, my voice soft and steady. "You don't have to thank me. I'm here, Raven. Always."

And in that moment, everything felt like it had fallen into place.

I lay beside Raven on the bed, the silence of the room wrapping around us as we locked eyes, speaking volumes without a word being said. My blue eyes searched the depths of Raven's golden ones, and I felt our connection deepen with each passing second. The world outside seemed to vanish.

I reached out again, slow and deliberate, my fingers barely skimming Raven's blue skin. Just a whisper of a touch, enough to tuck that unruly strand of hair behind her ear. It wasn't just a gesture; it was a spark, a ripple through both of us that made the air feel thicker, heavier.

"Come," I murmured, my voice soft, intimate, as I slid out of bed. Raven trailed after me, her golden eyes locked on mine like she was trying to decode something I hadn't even said yet. I hesitated, the weight of what I was about to share settling in my chest.

"It's only fair if I show you something," I said, my tone shifting, more serious now.

Raven didn't say a word—just watched me, curious, cautious.

I took a deep breath, stepped closer, and let the words slip from my lips: "Soul Synchronization Mystique."

The room shifted. The energy between us sharpened, like static before a storm. And then, everything about me changed—my skin darkened to match her rich blue, my hair burned red, and my eyes turned to gold. A mirror, but not quite.

Raven's breath hitched, and her lips parted as if to speak, but no sound came out. Finally, she managed, "You… you're like me?"

"No," I said, shaking my head slightly, my voice calm but edged with something deeper. "It's not that simple."

Our eyes met—gold to gold—and I could see the questions swirling behind hers. "It's my ability," I explained. "I can copy someone else's essence, their ability."

Her jaw tightened as the realization hit her. "That's… that's dangerous. If people knew—"

"They'd fear me," I finished for her, a quiet, bitter laugh escaping my lips. "I know. But you? I trust you." I paused, letting the words settle between us. "It's not just copying, though. It's… it's a connection. This wouldn't even work if we weren't connected."

The way her gaze softened, the way her body leaned just the slightest bit closer—it felt like she understood. Or maybe she wanted to. Either way, I was standing there, exposed, hoping like hell I hadn't just made a mistake.

Raven blinked, her golden eyes wide as the weight of what I'd shown her started to sink in. I let my features shift back to normal, the air around us settling but not entirely. There was a tension, thick and electric, pulsing between us. I could see it in the way her gaze lingered—equal parts awe and something darker, deeper.

Her mind was working overtime, I could tell, but before she could string together a thought, I stepped forward and kissed her. It wasn't planned—it was instinct, pure and raw.

Raven didn't pull back. If anything, she leaned into me, her hands finding their way to my body with a confidence that made my heart race. One hand curved around the soft curve of my backside, sending a shiver up my spine, while the other settled in the crook of my neck, firm but gentle like she was anchoring me to her.

A soft, involuntary sound slipped from my lips, and Raven's grip tightened as if to tell me she'd heard it and she wasn't going to stop now. She broke the kiss just long enough to bury her face in my hair, breathing me in like I was oxygen after a long dive underwater.

"God," she whispered against my neck, her voice a mix of wonder and hunger. She kissed me there, just below my jaw, slow and deliberate.

When she pulled back, her golden eyes locked onto mine, and for a second, I forgot how to breathe. "You're… stunning," she said, her voice low, almost reverent.

I barely had time to process the words before her lips were on mine again, fiercer this time, like she'd made up her mind and wasn't interested in second-guessing. Her fingers threaded through my hair, tugging just enough to make me gasp against her mouth, which only seemed to spur her on.

Our tongues met a dance that was anything but tentative. It was consuming, thrilling, a give-and-take that left me trembling. I could feel her intensity growing, the weight of her desire pressing against me like a wave I didn't want to escape.

And honestly? I wasn't about to argue.