The sun was retreating into the ground letting the world sleep under cover of dark. It was already night in the streets though. Monolithic buildings choked out the light of the world to where the street was in twilight for the majority of the afternoon and evening. Quietly, the sun dipped and fully sank around the world saying good bye for the day.
Titus could feel his power fill him like he were a man shaped pitcher and someone was pouring cool water into him. It started at his heart and spread out until the full strength of his power ebbed around him. Just as easily as it filled him, he restrained it, pulled it back in the fortress in his mind. He was told to imagine the most secure spot he could ever imagine when he was younger. At that age the strongest thing he had seen was the Kentucky State Penitentiary also known as the Castle on the Cumberland. He remembered it as a kid when they vacationed at Land between the Lakes. It was something beautiful, powerful, indestructible. His shields were all those things in his mind.
He sat at a small bistro in one of the storefronts across from the Federal building. It was by and far one of the best places to get a cup of coffee in this town. Hot, black, and a little Irish at the moment, Titus took another sip and watched across the street idly, looking at nothing and everything all at once.
Two nights ago, he watched one of the people he secretly said he loved cut her arms open like trimming the fat off steaks. All while under the control of her insane and very dead brother. The spirit opened her up just to watch the pain wash over Titus's face in the realization that there was nothing Titus could do, but sit there and watch. It had worked. Right now Titus felt helpless to what transpired and quietly he blamed himself for goading that ignorant Xavier on.
Last night, while trying to get an hour of sleep at the emergency room he was awoken to a nurse saying that the patient he was waiting on had checked out. His phone had a voicemail and a brief explanation of what Alex was doing. Titus was no more than a hundred feet from her and she left a voicemail. It penned their relationship to the letter. After that, Titus simply went home and that morning he went to work like nothing was wrong.
Right now, after he had left the Marshal's office, his body ached like it held the world on it's shoulders. In grabbing him up, Alexavier punched into Titus's chest leaving very angry bruises, just that little reminder of what happened. That night he could feel that shift in power in Alex. He couldn't explain it but something about it was like his power, spiritual, necromantic. He wondered if he could have touched the spirit of Xavier with his power. He looked at his hand, almost seeing the contained power within. It was a long shot, and he may kill Alex in the process. That was too heavy a price for an experiment.
No the truth was that Titus debating on cutting all ties to Alex. It'd hurt him in ways he'd never say, but it was a reasonable conclusion. So much ache and physical hurt and he would be a ghost, never visiting, just always on the outskirts or in the corner of your eye. He looked down at the swirling coffee with the shot or maybe two of Irish whiskey in it. The coffee, right now, had more answer than Titus at this moment. He drained the last of the coffee ordered another and sank in the chair. He never felt or looked smaller at the moment. For all the wonder in the world; all the training, the fighting, the real world experience, the power, the bullshit, he was laid low by a girl that maybe weighed 110 pounds and had cut him deeper than any supernatural creature in the world. Worst of all, she didn't even know it. God damn her.
(I was listening to this song when I wrote this. I found it a bit fitting, I present it to you in case you want to know what brought this on.)
