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Ororo stared at the grave and wondered a million things, but her thoughts were so scattered she wasn’t quite sure what she was feeling. It wasn’t good, but it wasn’t bad. She was-- or she hoped she was-- in a state of emotional emptiness. A part of her wanted to feel excited or jittery or happy or something, but she was just dry. It was a little fascinating that she was “emotionally dry” but she supposed it made logical sense. She’d done everything she could and now she was left dry.

“What’re you doin’ out here?” asked Logan. He nodded at the grave-- his subconscious refused to think of Charles in past tense, and Logan felt the presence was still very real-- then sat down beside Ororo. “It’s late.”

She hummed and set her hands on her knees, but didn’t move otherwise. “I’m thinking.”

“About?” Logan asked immediately. “Hey, y’know, I talked to Jean earlier. She said she wasn’t mad anymore.” It was kind of the truth; Logan had mostly forgotten everything Jean said, but he knew that was the overarching theme. He waited for Ororo to respond. She just nodded her head. That was really weird. “You okay?”

“I always wondered who was using me as a kid,” she started. “I always thought Charles was using me as a prize winning dog. Jean used me like a support system.” She looked at Logan. “I suppose you used me as a key.”

“Key.”

“To stay in the house.” Logan looked confused. “Scott told me you were afraid of getting kicked out. I think Jean mentioned it, too.” Logan opened his mouth to argue, but Ororo held up her hand. “I’m not mad. If I was facing homelessness, I’d do whatever I could to stay.” Ororo leaned forward and plucked grass from Charles’ grave. “And anyways, I hear that was the point of this place.”

“So you heard about the charity?”

Ororo nodded.

Before Charles died-- according to Scott-- he lamented how he raised Ororo. He wanted to make a place for kids to come to, kids whose parents treated them horribly, kids who didn’t feel as though they belonged at home and would rather live on the streets. When Ororo heard about it, she wanted to cry. She would never know if Charles really meant for the charity to be a reflection of his own parenting, but she knew it wasn’t a coincidence.

She gave a ghost of a smile and looked at Logan. “I’m happy. Excited.”

He regretted his actions. She’d been gone long enough for Charles to realize what he’d done and while she hated how their relationship worked out, she was almost happy some good would come from it. She’d grown up too quickly and now she was going to continue Charles’ dream to prevent other kids from growing up too quickly. It was nice.

Ororo turned away and felt strange. “He was a great man. I’m proud to be his daughter.”

“Really?” Logan asked, not bothering to hide his surprise. “I would’ve thought... Y’know.”

“I wasn’t raised to hate. I’m sure a part of me wants to hate Charles, and I’m sure there’s a part that does, but... I don’t want to. It’s tiring, staying angry. I don’t want to sound cliche, but I’m going to redirect this.” She nodded, assured. “My problems... I can use them to help the greater cause.” She smiled at Logan. “It’ll be great.”

Logan smiled, trying to stay optimistic. He would never say it, but there was apart of him that mourned for Ororo. Charles groomed her to stay strong, and that’s what she was doing. He hated himself for it, but Logan smiled and nodded. “Yeah. It’ll be great.”



AUTHOR'S NOTE: So if you're wondering, this story is totally done. I wanted to end it on a note that's a little more realistic of their drama. Ororo felt suffocated and that sort of stuff doesn't go away just because you admit it. Sorry this took forever to get out, but I'M SO DONE! Woot! Now to start on the second part of Inappropriate Love Story.





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