The woman lay motionless where she had fallen, smoke drifting above her body.
"Traitors deserve death!" Jareth shouted, voice cracking across the basin.
Xavier didn't even look at the corpse again.
"I don't care," he said flatly. "About what you did. About who you killed. About how many. That's your mess. Yours and his and everyone who followed you. I'm not here to clean it. I'm not here to make it look better."
He gestured vaguely toward the ruins around them. "You all built this. You can deal with it."
Jareth stared at him, breathing hard.
Xavier continued. "It has nothing to do with me. You want to shoot each other? Go ahead. You want to burn what's left? Do it."
He tilted his head slightly.
"There's just one thing I want to understand."
His eyes locked onto Jareth.
"Why?"
Jareth's jaw flexed, but he didn't answer.
Xavier went on before he could.
