Song Credit: “My Father” [adapted from “My Mother”, written by Ross Bagdasarian (cos I have to credit SOMEbody lol)]
A Summer of Sunsets
Chapter #26 “Summer Moved On, pt. 3”
(Still) Somewhere Over the Atlantic Ocean
Monday, August 17th 2004
12:40a.m.
Only mere minutes had passed, but to Ororo it felt like each was its own eternity. The sounds of air-flight, her family’s hushed conversations rows ahead of her, nor the light tapping of the keys on Henry’s laptop broke her mind’s concentration, as her fractured thoughts kept returning to Genosha, hours ago that felt like years that felt like now…
A Couple Days ago, back at Hammer Bay Memorial, it seemed to take forever to get within sight of the large hospital. The crowds of people”some homo sapiens, most homo superiors”weren’t quick to back out of the road to allow the single police cruiser to pass and near the hospital’s garage.
Inside, the cops tried to keep their cools, alternating between the horn, their alert siren and the loudspeaker to try to clear a path. In the rear cab, Ororo was pressed against the side of the window, trying to see”see what, even she wasn’t sure. In her chest, she felt a hand squeeze her heart to the point it could’ve stopped beating. Her eyes grew heavy with unshed tears, and as she fought for control of her emotions, so the skies began to grey…
Inside the hospital, in the ICU ward, a bed-ridden figure turned his head to the window, looking past the concerned visage of his life long friend, outside into the dark skies. After a moment, his eyes fluttered closed, and he took a deep breath. His body was giving up though his mind still fought the inevitable. With what was left of his strength, Charles reached out to his child, to soothe her fears, which even now he could feel.
Several blocks away, Ororo’s mind caught the fleeting wisp of her father’s astral presence, and without hesitation welcomed him in. She couldn’t hide the chastising thought that he shouldn’t waste his energy, but at the same time she was so glad to feel him near she didn’t dare hide it. The love and warmth that filled both their hearts washed away weeks of guilt, worry, regret…anger. She wanted to apologize, to tell him how childish she’d behaved and how sorry she was, but Charles wouldn’t let her. He hugged her mind as tightly as he ever did her body; a father’s love and understanding clearing the path between them that had been littered with the ghosts of Cairo. It was that feeling of love that finally”completely”made Ororo understand why he’d done what he had, and also accept that if given the choice all over, he’d do so again.
It was the first time she really understood what he had all along”that is, how far a parent’s love will go. He didn’t want her to apologize any more than he planned to himself. Charles realized Ororo couldn’t help the way she’d reacted any more so than he could his decision made years before. He allowed her”and only her”to see as he had and feel what he’d felt, trying to calm the fears of the traumatized little African princess. The sorrow in his heart as she’d descended into a psychological black hole that no amount of traditional therapy of the times could hope to conquer.
It was the first time Ororo began to see what her father did as he truly meant it to be: a gift. The 2nd chance his love was sure she deserved. After all, it was the actions of a father that gave her the life she now had, the family she so cherished. In the wake of how her life evolved, didn’t that justify everything? Shouldn’t it?
Drawing away from her mentally for a brief moment, Charles waited for her response. Overwhelmed, Ororo couldn’t formulate a coherent thought for several seconds, fighting her conflicting emotions as well as newly emerged memories of her life before she met Charles Xavier. How might things have been different for her if she’d remained in Kenya? Would she even be alive?
That thought immediately”and unbidden”brought an image of Logan to her mind’s eye. The merc-for-hire-turned-military-man was just as responsible for her new life as her father was. She still couldn’t begin to place his reasons in those events, but did it matter?
She felt Charles smile, trying in some vain to hold back a father’s pride at realizing his little girl is ‘all grown up’ as well as a pang of protectiveness. Her thoughts of Logan told him enough to know she deeply cared for the man, and at this point, he was ready to relinquish the fact his daughter’s happiness was all that mattered to him. If that was with James Howlett…
She stopped him before he went any father with that thought, pushing her thoughts of Logan from them to focus on them only. She couldn’t help but wonder why he was coming to her like this. She was so close, and he was using so much energy to reach past his body out to her mind.
‘Some things, dearest one, just won’t wait…’
His thoughts echoed in her mind for several more seconds, stopping Ororo’s thoughts before a swell of panic washed over her. She tried to reach out to Charles then, as if holding on to his astral form would somehow stop the inevitable.
Blinking rapidly, Ororo found herself outside the police cruiser, as the cops abandoned the futile attempt to drive up to the hospital. Pressing her through the crowds, the two officers acted as her shield against the throngs of people, but nothing could block her heart from its sorrow. ‘No, Abu*…please..!’
Upstairs in the ICU, Charles turned his head to look up at Erik, smiling tiredly. His friend could tell he’d finally been able to do the one last thing his mind had to be strong enough to keep his body alive for. Squeezing the hands of his children before him, Charles opened his heart to them and they never knew such love as they did from their father.
Just down the hall, the two cops ushered Ororo toward the ICU. ‘Abu!! Please, don’t leave me!’ Her thoughts cried out and a sob escaped her lips.
‘It’s alright, my little kibibi**. Don’t worry…everything, you’ll see. It’ll all work itself out…You’ll see…’
‘Just like that?’ She tried to keep his mind engaged, thinking, active. ‘Just like magic, Tego-bwana..?’
A broken chuckle rattled from the ambassador’s pale lips as a single tear escaped the corner of his ghostly blue eyes. The sight faded from them quickly, but still he smiled, feeling the return of his family’s love fill his heart, mind and soul.
By the time Ororo rounded the corner into the room, her father was gone.
Today, August 17th
A stinging tear ran down Ororo’s face as she sat turned toward the window of the jet. She closed her reddened eyes against the small blinking lights of the city’s horizon. They were almost home.
‘Home.’ She repeated to herself with no humor. Before, she always considered New York just that, but now, without her father..?
“Excuse me.” She murmured, pressing past Hank as he put the finishing touches on the press statement the family agreed he should write in response to the media inquiries surrounding their father’s death. He watched her pass by into the aisle and toward the back of the jet, disappearing into the cargo hold. He debated whether or not he should follow, but then decided it best not to. When he turned back in his seat, he was met with four pairs of concerned and quizzical gazes, to which he could only shake his head, before trying in vain to return to his speech.
Down in the cargo hold…
The engines of the jet seemed even quieter here than in the passenger section, if possible. Ororo knew the alien-augmented technology of the plane was responsible for that. Almost casually, she looked around the dimly lit area, filled with the ‘inner workings’ of the jet, a cargo cage and tied down in the very rear of the vessel, the dark ebony casket of former Ambassador Charles Francis Xavier.
A summer, or winter,
When he hadn’t been there for me.
A friend and companion,
I could always depend on,
My father,
That’s who I need.
Unable to take her eyes from the closed object, Ororo came to a sitting position right beside it, her legs folded beneath her, as she laid one hand on its cool surface gingerly. She tried to ignore her trembling limbs, but it was no use. Shaking her head, she bit down on her bottom lip as a fresh wave of grief nearly crushed her.
The seeds that he planted,
He’s always behind, everything.
A teacher, a seeker,
A both arms out-reacher
My father,
That’s who I need.
A shaky brown hand closed tightly in a fist, and Ororo reached up to wipe angrily at her face. The simple, brutal truth was that none of this was fair at all. In the last waning moments of her father’s life, he’d been robbed of her physical presence. Looking upwards as if for some answer, she realized somewhat belatedly and not without a little shame, that it wasn’t God’s ear she was searching for.
The hands, of time,
Keep things the way,
They were,
If he said so,
‘I would give him the world,
If I could…
I would.
‘My love and my laughter,
From here ever after,’
Is all that he said,
That he’d need.
My friend and companion,
I could always depend on,
My father,
That’s who I mean.
My father,
That’s who I need…
Lowering her head in defeat, Ororo closed her eyes, whispering to her dad in words only the two of them would understand. It wasn’t long before the tears did come again, and when they did, she just let them fall.
Salem Center, New York
Friday, August 21st 2004
4:47 p.m.
The large study at the academy was one of Charles’ favorite places. So much so that by the 2nd year of classes, Erik found himself helping his friend convert it into his de facto headmaster’s office. Xavier had also, on occasion, been known to conduct several of his classes there as well; along with several volumes of books of every type”perfect for reference during a lecture”he found many of his students loved the large windows hugging the circular walls of the study’s atrium-like appearance.
Erik sealed the last of Charles’ personal affects from his desk (left there by Sean when he’d taken over) in a cardboard box. He didn’t realize he must’ve been smiling sadly until he heard her voice.
“Erik?”
Looking up a little startled, the older man met Ororo’s gaze, hoping she couldn’t tell how tired he felt. “I’m sorry, what was it?”
She seemed hesitant to come into the room fully, her arms crossed tightly and looking around as though she expected something to jump out at her.
“Ororo?”
“I”I’m sorry, I just”anyway, most of the guests for the wake are coming through. Several of yours and dad’s mutual friends from college and the State Dept. have been asking about you.”
Coming to his feet feeling much older than Erik previously would’ve admitted, Lehnsherr left the packed box on the edge of the oak wood desk and met her at the door. “I’m sorry, I guess I let time get away from me. I didn’t realize it was so late.”
He’d taken several steps past her before Erik realized Ororo was still standing in the doorway to the study, staring inside. “Ororo?”
“Hm?”
“Are you coming, dear?” he watched her a little, concern evident.
Shaking the thoughts clouding her mind, Ororo nodded tightly, coming up beside him. Erik wrapped an arm about her shoulders, noticing she still kept her own arms crossed tightly. “Come on.” He whispered, and they headed back toward the main foyer, where most of the guests congregated.
Although several former students were present, most of the wake guests were people Ororo either didn’t recognize or hadn’t seen in quite some time. Many were political figures come to pay respects, unable to make it to the Saturday memorial service. The unfamiliarity of the people coming up to her to offer condolences soon began to wear thin on Ororo’s nerves, and she could play the dutiful daughter/hostess no longer, escaping to the courtyard behind the mansion-turned-school.
Smoothing her dark blue dress, she sat in a swing seat, letting her legs dangle as her feet came out of her shoes. She watched her toes grasp at the healthy green blades of grass; a futile effort through the sheer pantyhose.
“Penny for your thoughts?”
Her concentration broken, she glanced up to see Scott standing not far away, dressed in dark slacks and shirt, his ever-present tinted specs reflecting the waning afternoon light. “Scott. No offense, but I’d rather be alone right now.”
“I bet you would.” He said with a straight face, coming to stand beside her, then sit in the swing next to her. “But then what kind of friend would I be if I let you do that?”
The too-earnest way he said that almost made her smile, but Ororo’s foul mood wasn’t going down without a fight. “One that listens.”
“Ouch. I see the sharp wit is back. Can’t be long for the righteous indignation to follow.”
Her head snapped around to him, her brow arched and a retort ready on the lips when she caught sight of the twinkle behind his glasses, and it brought her up short. Scott pursed his lips to keep from smiling his triumph. A couple seconds passed before he glanced at her again, and angled his head toward the mansion.
“I guess you were getting tired of the political rally too, eh?”
Busted. Lifting a shoulder, she looked back down into the grass as if an excuse would sprout there as well. “That obvious?”
“Well, I saw when Erik introduced you to the British Prime Minister and you kept calling him ‘Colonel’. I wasn’t sure if you were just distracted or really hungry for some chicken.”
If it had been Scott’s intent to get a laugh out of her, he succeeded nicely with that quip, as Ororo’s voice rang out in the quiet late afternoon of the back yard. Slightly embarrassed at her treatment of a world figure”not to mention realizing why she kept calling the man “Colonel””she wiped the tears of laughter from the corners of her eyes, sobering enough to slide her tired but now relaxed gaze toward her companion. “You tell anyone, Scott Christopher Summers, and you’re a dead man.”
He just kept looking down between his feet now as well, but couldn’t hide the corners of his mouth as they curled upwards. “Wouldn’t dream of it, ‘Roro. Wouldn’t dream of it.”
Her eyes softened at the ancient nickname. “Wow.”
He looked up, puzzled. “What?”
“You haven’t called me that in…hell, 10 years.”
He seemed to have forgotten what he’d said already, but after a moment realized the name he let slip. She was both amused and surprised to see his cheeks color rose and he looked away briefly, clearing his throat. “Yeah. I know.”
“…Scott?”
“Mm?”
“Can I ask something of you?”
His eyes watched her from behind those glasses, obvious curiosity etched on his face as he nodded, waiting for her to continue.
“Well, see here’s the thing. Sean is probably going to leave the Institute soon. Before the new term starts next month. I guess since Hank is almost a certainty to assume the Ambassadorship, Moira’s going to need help continuing her research and I know the two go way back with dad and he’d want them to find a…a cure. Unfortunately, that leaves me an instructor short. Erik has promised he’ll be around to help out, but I happen to know for a fact 1) he hates to teach, and 2) he’ll be quite busy straightening out all of dad’s…”
“…”
“…all of dad’s affairs, so I’m going to be pretty much swamped when it comes to getting this place up and going. I’ve already roped Marie, Beth and Kurt into a subbing rotation until I can find a suitable replacement for Sean, but”well…”
“I’d be honored.” He said it quietly, and she could tell he meant it.
“Thanks.”
*Ororo?*
She jumped a little, but covered and shielded her feelings before answering. *Beth, what’s wrong?*
*Oh, I’m sorry, Luv. Did I startle you? Um, ye’ve got a visitor.*
Glancing toward Scott quickly, Ro turned away before their gazes met. Why was she suddenly feeling so guilty..? *Oh? Who--?*
*…She says her name is Dr. Grey, but you’ll know her by Jean?*
Only a few minutes later, Ororo and Scott reappeared via the back entrance. Many of the earlier guests had departed, but there was still quite a few people either visiting with the Xavier family in the library, or viewing Charles’ body in the sectioned off downstairs bedroom. When they came back to the large foyer, Ororo couldn’t hide her surprise to see the young doctor standing close to the front door, her knee-length skirt almost disappearing behind a dark duster. She appeared almost as uncomfortable as Ororo felt, but the two women seemed to take some comfort when their eyes met.
“Jean..?” Ororo didn’t have to ask the question, accepting her offered hug of condolence.
“When I heard the news earlier this week, I went by the Hampton estate, but uh, Mrs. Duvahl said you hadn’t been there in days, and gave me the address to the School. Ororo, I’m so sorry.”
Barely able to keep her composure, Charles’ daughter smiled a little, nodding and squeezing the doctor’s arm in reassurance. “Thank you Jean. That means a lot.”
“A-hem…”
Grinning a little forcefully, She almost rolled her eyes but contained herself, turning to the impatient man behind her. “I’m sorry, he’s wondering where my manners are.”
Jean hid a chuckle behind her fingers as she looked up into a pair of ruby-tinted glasses.
“Dr. Jean Grey, Capt. Scott Summers, USAF. Scott, Jean used to live right down the beach from the Hamptons estate. We ah…met through a mutual friend.” She finished carefully, as the two took the other’s hand and Scott held Jean’s between both his for a second before letting go, but kept giving her that trademarked Summer’s Smile. The red-head was a picture of composure, but inwardly she was melting.
“Ororo?” Sean tried to call her softly, standing in the door way to the small room just off the side of the stairs. He held a cordless telephone in his hand and motioned that it must be for her.
Puzzled, she excused herself, hoping Jean would be able to handle Scott on her own for a few moments, and took the handset from him. He left her in the small room for privacy, and she put the phone to her ear. “Hello?”
“Ororo?”
There was a little static on the line, but she couldn’t mistake his voice.
“T’Challa. How did you get the School’s number? It’s unlisted.”
Her brother laughed a little at her first remarks to him after they’d not spoken in such a while. He sobered quickly, however, after letting her know in no uncertain terms that an international diplomat ‘has his ways’. “Ororo, I just wanted to call you, and tell you how very sorry I am about Ch”a-about your father. I know he meant a lot to you.”
“Yes.” She answered, and then a little tighter, “of course he did. He was the only father I’ve ever known.”
There was an odd silence on the other end, before the Kenyan-Wakkandan Prince sighed audibly, and pressed on. “And I’m glad he was too, Sister.”
Biting her lip, Ororo picked at the hem of her dress before blurting, “I’m sorry, T’Challa you called to offer your condolences. I don’t mean to sound small or bitter in light of that. My father raised me better than that.”
“Well, we’re family; what’s a little eh, how do you say, uh, ‘ribbing’?”
She chuckled a little at that. “Yeah. I guess. But seriously. Thanks for calling. I really appreciate it.”
“I hope to see you soon, Sister. Please, if you need anything, you have my number still?”
“I do.”
“Don’t hesitate to use it.”
“I won’t.”
For Ororo the rest of that evening was a blur as she tried once again to play the appreciative daughter of the dead diplomat, when all she really wanted was for all the strangers to go away and leave Charles’ family and close friends to mourn in peace. By the time the School’s doors closed for the night, her father’s body had been taken to the funeral home where his remains would be cremated in preparation for the service the next afternoon, and the last guest had offered their condolences, she was exhausted.
The Xavier children decided to stay the night at the School”in their old rooms, no less”and the current students staying the summer were all too humbled to let them, realizing the older ones needed that memory of their first days at the Xavier Institute to feel connected to the man they’d just lost.
Ororo collapsed against the cool spread of her attic-room’s bed. She knew once she was running things officially”hell, she kind of was now”she wouldn’t stay in the Head Master’s wing. No, her old attic loft bedroom would do just fine.
Staring at the French doors leading to the night air, her eyes then drifted downward to rest on the quiet cell phone on her nightstand. No missed calls. No messages.
Her face contorted briefly, before she turned her back on the night and that phone. Of course she cried herself to sleep, but this night it wasn’t just from mourning her father.
Miles Away in Brooklyn, He’d been sitting outside the darkened brownstone for hours, just staring at the windows. It was the third night he’d been here, waiting. For her, of course, but he never knew what he’d say once he saw her. If he saw her. She hadn’t been back to the beach house estate either, but he hadn’t bothered asking the help if they knew anything.
Logan knew she must’ve been going through hell at the moment, and there was a large part of him that wanted to just fold her up in his arms and make that pain go away, but he knew even what little comfort he could offer wasn’t to last long.
“Hey, you gonna go up and knock this time? See if anyone’s home?”
A set of Adamantium-laced claws nearly shot out before the voice was recognized, and Logan turned his head in the driver’s seat window of the jet-black unmarked SUV to see Ben Campbell standing beside his vehicle. “Kid, yer either really stupid or…well really stupid, to sneak up on me like that.”
Ben laughed a little, not mistaking the pride that went with that remark. He had to rub it in, though. “Nah, you’re just getting up in years there, Colonel.”
A short guttural laugh was cut off as Logan shook his head. “Hm. No, you were just trained by the Best. But that still doesn’t answer the question what the fuck yer doin’ out here.”
“Wondering why you’ve been sitting out here for the past three nights, when you know she isn’t here.”
The look Logan gave Ben was more than a simple reminder of their respective ranks; the younger man could clearly read the Fuck Off stamped across the older man’s forehead, chose to ignore it. “Ben, this ain’t none ‘o yer business. Go home.”
“No.”
Logan’s wild brow shot up as he slowly turned his head to glare at Benjamin Campbell. For his part, the younger man stood his ground, hands still buried deep in his pockets.
“What the hell did you just say?”
“I said, ‘No’…sir.” Ben’s brown gaze met his superior officer’s, and they stared hard at each other. “Colonel, I guess you never wondered why I decided to stay under your command, after the whole training ‘accident’ and you nearly gutting me like a mackerel an’ all. God knows, you didn’t ask.”
Logan stayed silent, seething, watching Ben’s every move as the youth’s shoulders rose and fell as he seemed to war with himself on that very same topic.
“And I guess at this point it really doesn’t matter anymore. There’s a job to be done, and you asked for me again on your team. The General and Maverick came to me”just so you know”and asked if I could still work under your command.”
“And..?” He bit out.
“Well, I’m here, ain’t I?” Ben looked up at him, then a lopsided grin pulled at his face for a brief moment. “Look, don’t be so damned shocked. What’d you expect me to act like after so many years under you??”
Logan actually stifled a laugh, turning away, but his head came back around and his eyes rested on Ben as the boy pulled out a yellow scrape piece of paper. “What’s that?”
“The address to the Memorial tomorrow. She’s burying him at that school he founded up state.”
Logan hesitated, but took the paper, only so he wouldn’t have to explain to Ben that he already knew the address to the Xavier Institute. “Ben”“
“Ah, don’t go all girly on me, Col.”
“Boy--!”
Ben chuckled at the exasperated tone, but stayed quiet.
Logan looked at the scribble address, then folded it carefully several times, as he spoke. “I’m not going to need this, Ben. I won’t be taking any trips upstate.”
“But”“
“Now shut the fuck up and get in the car, will ya? It’s late enough, and we’re shippin’ out 0400 Sunday. You youngsters are gonna need beauty rest and all that shit.”
Ben’s face fell visibly at the detached tone coming form Logan, but he tightened his lip, glancing only once back at the darkened brownstone before jogging around to the passenger side door and hopping in.
Logan did a dangerously close U-Turn on the street, barely missing three cars as he sped away from the curb and the deserted brownstone apartment.
To Be Continued…
A/N: Dedicated to everyone who’s ever lost someone and never got to say goodbye.
*Abu means DAD in Swahili
** kibibi means PRINCESS in Swahili
---
NEXT?
"Why didn't Jean/Ororo mention Logan?"
A: You'll find out.
"Why did Logan go back to Section X? After the way they treated him??"
A: 'Cos payback's a be-yotch.
"Is Scott sticking around for good?"
A:We'll see.
"Is Logan REALLY going to leave w/o saying goodbye??"
A:Hell if I know (actually, i do lol)
"Did you seriously use a song off the Chipmunks OST??"
A: Shut up & just read it ;o)
