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中文版:
将死之时
“啊……”万磁王费劲的从废墟中爬出来，身后爬过的地方留下一道长长的、触目惊心的血迹。他趴在地上，感觉自己的身体像灌了铅一样沉重，心脏在胸腔里疯狂地、不规则地擂动——这是它最后的、徒劳的努力。
艾瑞克已经没有力气再站起来了。
他徒劳地用手按压着胸口那狰狞的伤口。起初还能感觉到血液的温热，但现在，他只感觉自己的手和胸口一样冰冷。 鲜血一股一股地从他的指缝间涌出，那红色在他已经开始涣散的视野里变得愈发暗淡。
万磁王感觉自己快要死了。
他发不出呻吟或呼救声了——或许能发出来也没什么用，因为他知道跟随他参加这次战争的手下都非死即伤了。
艾瑞克现在能做的，只有用有些意识模糊的大脑来思考点东西了。这或许是自己生命中最后一次思考。他想。
为拯救变种人的战争而死，他万磁王无怨无悔。
艾瑞克这一生都在为变种人而战，他的身体上留下了无数为他们战斗的伤疤，他心甘情愿的成为他们的傀儡，保护他们，支持他们，为他们做一切…
而现在，他的使命就要到头了。
这位遍体鳞伤的老人正要疲惫的阖上眼睛，但脑海里突然有一个声音对他说——那你自己呢？
“那我…自己呢？…”他轻声喃喃道。
是啊，我这一生，没有为自己做过太多的事情，这个世界有什么事物是值得我留恋和牵挂的吗？
众人皆知的——万磁王没有家人，没有朋友，没有爱人…
不，我有。从前…
“查尔斯…”
艾瑞克的声音很轻很轻，轻到他自己都听不清。
其实他并不确定，他不确定他们分开这么多年，查尔斯是否对他的感情依旧。
艾瑞克时常在夜里想起过往的点滴，这通常让他彻夜难眠。
最恨的时候，他甚至嫉妒从前的自己，为什么那么轻易就能见到他的笑颜，为什么总能陪在他的身边，为什么现在自己只能在战场上看见他冰冷的侧脸。
为什么，为什么我就要死了…查尔斯…
艾瑞克感觉自己冰冷苍白的脸颊上好像流下了一道热痕。
他以为自己对查尔斯·泽维尔没有感情了。
头盔隔绝了他们之间的一切。
五十多年来，艾瑞克从来没有摘掉过它，也没有再感受过那温柔的精神力探查他的大脑。
这五十多年以来，他们是敌人，一直都是。
不，头盔骗了他，他也骗了自己。
艾瑞克爱他，无可救药的爱他。但他一直在假装不知道这件事。
但现在，万磁王要死了。也就是说，自己再也看不到那对深邃的灰蓝色眸子，再也听不到那人的唠叨，再也没法亲吻那人的嘴角，再也…
为变种人事业而死，我死而无憾。
不！我不能死，我还想见到查尔斯！…
人一旦有了牵挂，就会畏惧死亡。
艾瑞克突然很害怕，这份害怕很重，压得他喘不过气。
但或许，他喘不上气，还有另一个原因。
艾瑞克能感觉到自己的生命跟伤口流出的鲜血一样正在慢慢流逝，黑暗从视野的边缘不断蚕食而来，耳边开始响起尖锐的耳鸣，盖过了外界所有的声音，这使得他的意识更加模糊——他已经做不到集中精力来思考了。
“查尔斯…”他再次张嘴，试图呼唤那个名字，但这次，出口的却只是一声极其模糊的、带着血沫的气音。
万磁王用尽最后力气，摘掉了头盔。
这次他没有隐藏自己的任何思想，让它们在自己的大脑中尽情暴露出来。
如果，如果那个人现在正坐在主脑前的话…
“我爱你…”
他希望他在生命尽头发出的这句破碎而微弱的呼唤，能被远在西彻斯特的那个人听见。
终于，他闭上了双眼…
——The end.
英文版:
When Death Comes
"Ah..." Magneto struggled to pull himself out of the rubble, leaving a long, sickening trail of blood behind him. He lay on the ground, his body feeling as though it was made of lead - how ironic, at least then he could at least control it. His heart pounded wildly in his chest—its final, futile effort.
Erik no longer had the strength to stand.
He pressed his hand weakly against the gruesome wound on his chest. At first, he could still feel the warmth of the blood, but now, both his hand and his chest felt equally cold. Blood kept seeping through his fingers, the red growing duller and duller in his fading vision.
Magneto knew he was dying.
He couldn't manage a groan or a cry for help anymore—not that it would matter, because he knew the brave men who'd followed him into this fight were either dead or wounded themselves.
All Erik could do now was let his fading mind wander. This might be his last chance to think, he realized.
Dying in the war to save mutantkind—Magneto had no regrets.
His entire life had been spent fighting for mutants. Countless scars zigzagged across his body, souvenirs for all the times he protected them. He'd willingly become their shield, their protector, done everything for them...
And now, his purpose was coming to an end.
The dilapidated old man was about to close his tired eyes when a small voice in his head suddenly asked, ‘what about you?’
"What about... me?" he murmured softly.
Yeah. What had he ever really done for himself? Was there anything in this world worth holding onto?
Everyone knew—Magneto had no family, no friends, no lovers...
No. I did have a lover. But that was a time so long ago its memory feels like nothing but a dream...
"Charles..."
Erik's voice was so faint he could barely hear it himself.
The truth was, he wasn't sure. After all these years apart, he didn't know if Charles still felt the same.
Late at night, Erik would often think about their past together, and those thoughts usually kept him awake until dawn.
In his darkest moments, he'd even felt jealous of his younger self—how easily he'd once been able to see Charles smile, how natural it had been to stay by his side, and now he could only catch glimpses of his cold profile on the battlefield.
‘Why? Why did it have to end like this, with me dying... Charles...’
Erik thought he felt something warm trace down his cold, pale cheek.
He'd convinced himself he didn't feel anything for Charles Xavier anymore.
The helmet had cut them off completely.
For over fifty years, Erik had never taken it off, never felt that gentle presence resting his mind again.
Fifty years of being enemies. Always.
But the helmet had lied to him. And he'd lied to himself.
Erik loved him. Loved him desperately. He'd just spent a lifetime pretending otherwise.
But now, Magneto was dying. Which meant he'd never see those sparkling blue-gray eyes again. Never hear that familiar voice rambling on about something he’d once thought ignorantly pointless. Oh, to be able to hear him talk again. To kiss those lips. So many things he’d stupidly taken for granted, now made impossible by he himself...
Dying for the mutant cause—he'd thought he was ready.
No! I can't! I can’t die. I need to see Charles...
Once you have something to live for, death becomes terrifying.
Suddenly, Erik was afraid—a fear so heavy it crushed the air from his lungs.
But maybe that wasn't the only reason he couldn't breathe.
He could feel his life slipping away, just like the blood from his wound. Darkness crept in from the edges of his vision. A sharp ringing filled his ears, drowning out everything else, making it impossible to think clearly anymore.
"Charles..." He tried again to speak the name, but this time only a wet, gurgling sound escaped his lips.
With the last of his strength, Magneto tore off his helmet.
For once, he hid nothing. He let his thoughts flow freely, exposed completely.
If... if Charles was sitting at Cerebro right now...
"I love you..."
He hoped that this broken, fading whisper voiced at the end of his life might somehow reach the one person at the other end of the world, in Westchester.
Finally, his eyes closed...
—The end.