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Series: Seasons Change (vol.1)

Category: AU

Disclaimer: I claim no ownership of the X-Men or any other Marvel characters that may or may not pop up in the course of this fic. There are several original characters introduced for the sake of the story, which are of my own creation, whose identities will be obviously apparent from trademarked entities belonging to Marvel. No offense is intended by the use of Marvel properties, and no $$ gleaned from this story. Just havin' some fun.

Feedback: Please, and thank you

Dedication: To Jasmine33 and NemesisBecoming (You guys know why)


A Summer of Sunsets
Chapter #3, "First Impressions", pt. 1


Southamptons, Long Isl. NY
June 12th, 2004
5:59 a.m…

Her weary legs had been glad to finally get some rest. After walking more than half the night, Ororo found herself sitting outside a quaint little coffee shop on North Sea Road, some six miles or so away from the Xavier Estate.

So deep was she submerged in her thoughts, for the first 30 minutes she didn’t seem to notice the curious looks from the few passersby on the quiet, exclusive part of the street. It was only after a young man jogging tripped over his own feet while repeatedly gawking at her, that she came out of her daydream.

Self-consciously, she looked down at herself, and groaned, feeling her face flush and tingle in embarrassment. The lovely sundress she’d bought just for this summer was nearly in rags”ruined”tattered beyond belief from the tempest the night before. Her legs were covered in sparkling beach sand (now dried, at least) all the way up to her calves, and as she carefully lifted her fingers above her eye level, could just tell her hair was in the same boat as the rest of her.

‘Goodness, I’m sure I am a sight!’ She thought, attempting to smooth her hair and dust the sand from her body, but only succeeding in making her appearance worse (if that was possible).

After a few fruitless moments she gave up, and decided she didn’t really care, sinking back into her thoughts once more. This gave her time to think; to re-evaluate every decision she’d made (and some that had been made for her) up to that point in her life. There wasn’t much ‘Ro had to be regretful of, but the angry reaction she had toward her father was definitely one thing she wished to take back.

How difficult must it have been, she wondered sadly, to have one’s own mortality so painfully slap you in the face? ‘And then, to have your own child react the way I did…’

It didn’t take too terribly much pondering for her to realize Charles had only acted in what he thought were her best interests. After all, he was her father; legally and in deed. That ‘conversation’ couldn’t have been easy or pleasant for him, either.

“Oh, my goodness, gracious, dear..!”

Ororo started, snapping out of her reverie, as she looked up at the older woman standing before her. “Pardon?”

“Honey, are you alright?? Lord-Jesus, looks like ya got caught in that mess last night.” The lady squinted down at her instead of simply pulling her trifocals down from the top of her carefully-pinned salt-n-peppered hair.

Ororo grinned slightly at the older woman, dressed in her aerobic duds complete with a headband, and gently pulled on the short leash of her energetic Pug, as the friendly canine decided to say hello to the disheveled young woman. Welcoming the dog’s affection with a generous scratch behind his folded ears, she waved away the woman’s concern. “Oh. Yeah…It was quite a storm, wasn’t it? Was anyone injured, have you heard?”

“Francis, stop now..!” The woman chastised her little friend, but hardly seemed to mean it as the cute little mutt turned big brown eyes their way. She smiled pleasantly at Ororo, continuing, “Oh, uhm…Not that ah’ve heard, Dear. There’s been some reports about a couple o’ piers, maybe some o’ those yachts out there; but no people, far as ah know. You’re lucky, yaself, ah might add.”

“Yeah…lucky.” She lowered her eyes, her thoughts elsewhere as the playful, energetic Pug wagged his short, curly tail for another ear scratch.

The displaced southerner sensed the younger woman’s distress, and didn’t want to impose on her any longer. Gently nudging Francis to continue walking, she quickly unzipped the fanny pack around her waist and slid a crisp ten dollar bill on the table beside Ro’s arm.

“Oh, no, please, I”“

“Dear, take it. Get yourself a cup of somethin’ hot, for ya catch yer death; or a cab as far as this’ll take ya. B’sides, it’d make me feel better, you out here alone, an’ all.” The woman’s eyes were soft and kind, but her posture and tone told ‘Ro she wasn’t taking ‘No’ for an answer.

Hesitantly taking the bill and folding it in her palm, ‘Ro smiled up at her would-be benefactor. “Thank you, ma’am. Really…I…”

The woman grinned, waving away Ororo’s genuine acceptance, and as Francis reached the end of his retractable leash’s length, she leaned toward Ororo to whisper quietly, “And ya might wanna get all that beach sand outta ya hair”it’s white as a ghost!”

The woman hopped away, as the pugnacious little dog pulled her forward with the leash, leaving a wide-eyed, puzzled Ororo behind her. After several seconds, the school teacher burst out in a fit of uncontrollable laughter.



About 30 minutes later, Ororo was heading back toward the Estate, taking the same route from the night before. In her right hand, she carefully carried a caramel latte and in her left a blueberry scone. She’d been kind of disappointed once the coffee shop opened to discover they didn’t offer many varieties of tea, but she was content with the latte since it was decaf. As she nibbled on the warmed scone (and waited for the latte to cool a bit) her thoughts, of course, went back to the last night. Just the thought of her father in such pain made her eyes well with tears, and more than once Ororo had to stop to wipe them.

‘It’s just not fair…’ she argued, ‘Dad’s done so much in his life to help people…why would something like…’ She looked up then, her brow furrowing before she breathed, “Ah….shit.”

As she walked along the beach her steps suddenly slowed to an abrupt stop, as she saw three massive yachts”2 beached against the surf, with their hulls ruptured, sails torn; and the 3rd turned on its nose, perpendicularly stabbing the shallow ocean floor only about 20 yards out. Slowly continuing to walk, she also noticed the amount of debris around her increase the closer she got to the Estate.

‘Maybe Erik was right.’ She shook her head, disappointed in her own lack of self-control. ‘Look at all of this…destruction. And it’s all yours, ‘Ro. All yours.’

Looking down at her half-eaten scone and still untouched latte, Ororo was suddenly not very hungry. Turning to look toward the street, she winced at the sight of a beach house that appeared to have seen better days. Never occurring to her that the disrepair of its exterior may not have been her doing, Ororo groaned at the sight of the dangerously leaning trees, the seaweed and beach grass now decorating the house’s rear porch as well as the man sitting on the”whoa!

She did the appropriate double-take as she almost passed the house. ‘Waitaminute…’ Coming closer cautiously, she cursed inwardly when her bright eyes confirmed the man’s presence.

He was sitting on the bottom step of the back porch, bare feet buried in sand, his arms resting on his knees as he leaned back, his head tilted to one side against the wooden post of the steps’ railing, which needed at least another coat of paint. His white t-shirt was stained with dried mud from the storm, as were his arms, legs, his face. He actually looked like he’d sustained the entire onslaught, right there on that step.

Ororo stopped about ten feet away from him, hesitating to say anything, as she saw several reeds of seaweed slip off his broad shoulders. He literally looked ship-wrecked.

“Sir? Are you alright?”

He didn’t move or speak, as if she weren’t there or he hadn’t heard her. Ororo took two steps closer, her imagination going wild, thinking maybe he was dead. “S-Sir..?”

Then she saw his eyes blink, very slowly, but his gaze never lifted to hers. As she pondered this, she looked at him closer, and her face contorted with his lack of expression. His eyes, a color close to that of clouds before a deadly thunderstorm, seemed as lifeless as the rest of him; his slouching body, she could tell, was muscular, though with his posture even those taunt tendons seemed too relaxed to the point of useless. He was like a weathered, beaten bronze statue from some ancient culture, silently telling a sad tale of some epic myth of which the actual text had long been lost.

Unsure if she should press, Ororo looked past him back up to the darkened house, where the rear shutters appeared to have been loosened by her torrential downpour. There was still some standing water she could see on the steps behind him, and estimated there may be other parts of the home in worse condition. She didn’t see anyone else about, and so assumed he was alone.

Feeling guilt-ridden and ashamed, she began to back away from him, as if he could somehow tell the ‘damage’ done to his home was her doing. ‘Wait.’ She hesitated, thinking of the kind woman she’d met earlier. Looking down at her hands, ‘Ro made her decision, cautiously coming up to the steps, albeit from the side farthest from where he leaned but within his line of vision. Still he didn’t acknowledge her presence, even when she knelt by him momentarily. Standing and taking a step back, she whispered, “I’m sorry.” Whether he knew what she meant or not, she felt it needed to be said…

When he remained silent, she backed a couple of steps away, and then turned, heading back down to the beach toward Xavier’s Estate. After about 30 ft. or so, she hazarded a look back, but he still sat exactly as before. Sighing heavily, she shrugged, and continued home.



Back on the steps, Logan’s body gradually eased its tensed stance, and as if he’d suddenly awakened from a trance, he blinked several times, and then turned his head, glancing down beside his hip. There beside him was a covered, clear plastic cup of something resembling coffee, but it was topped with whipped cream and drizzled with some kind of candy-looking gunk.

He reached over and picked up the cup, bringing it to his eye level, examining it with a suspicious nose. The strong odor of coffee bean and caramel wafted up to him, and he grunted dismissively. Turning his torso, he looked down the beach, catching a glimpse of a thin brown body, and stark white hair. His eyes narrowed momentarily as his keen sight zeroed in on her. When she turned half way to glance back again, his bloodshot silver eyes widened considerably. ‘I’ll be damned…It can’t be…’



Sometime later, ‘Ro trudged through the beach’s cold sand, watching as her father’s beach house got closer with each step. When she was back on the property, she paused outside the back patio, looking up at the drawn curtains of the 4 floors of rooms. As she surveyed the exterior for possible damage, she noticed one of those windows was now opened. She knew exactly whose room it was, and sighed heavily. ‘Time to grow up, Girl.’

Picking up her sand-covered feet, she headed toward the Estate. Her Home.



TBC in Chapter 4, “First Impressions”, pt. 2

Spoiler: Charles and Ro reminisce; Ro and Lo meet again”for the 1st time…

Also: sorry it's so short, but I needed a good break-point before the next part...:)





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