It had been three weeks since the founder of the Xavier Institute; Charles Xavier had passed away.

Ororo Iqadi “Storm” Munroe was the now the headmistress of the institute and for the last week found herself sleeping and eating in her new office trying to get ready for the new school year.

She was writing out this week’s lunch menu for the students, when her watch alarm had beeped to remind herself to eat something; and another cup of coffee didn’t count according to Logan and Hank.

The Weather Witch had left for the kitchen, greeting some of the student who never left for the summer break.

It had recently came to her attention that she had also ‘inherited’ the legal guardianship of five of the students, whose parents had almost quite literally abandoned them at the school’s doorstep.

If anyone; told the little street urchin that when she turned 17: she would be brought to America (by a billionaire) who could help her figure out her mutant abilities, she would’ve become a superhero (like one of those fantastic four characters the kids were always reading about), be taught English, be given the opportunity to finish her education-as far as she wanted (Apparently the ‘Kenyan and Egyptian schools of hard knocks didn’t count as a formal education); become a teacher, see the world and eventually will become heir apparent and the executrix of said billionaire’s will and estate and in his passing be bequeathed everything to keep the man dreams going she would’ve laughed in their faces.

Yet, here she was in the process of adding one more migraine to the list of everything else she had to deal with today.

The professor was always prone to them; she thought it was always a psychic thing; like how: she would always have to deal with static cling and shocking people.
Ororo was however wrong about this as well, she was finding that she was wrong about many things, the migraines were not because of his psychic ability.

It was because the idea of running a privately funded school for mutants - Suddenly she felt her foot slip out from underneath her and the hardwood floor on her back; totally knocking the wind out of her and making her loose her train of thought. She felt the floor underneath her and cussed softly “Goddess Above! Bobby! What did I tell you about-”

“No ice rinks in the house or inside the school,” he finished “sorry,” he helped her up, she fixed the charcoal blazer she was wearing, shook her head and opened her mouth to speak. Bobby beat her to it “and don’t let it happen again,” he smiled “sorry.”

She shook her head and grumbled walking away; where was she? Oh, Yes! Apparently the professor was prone to migraines not because of his psychic ability; but because running a school for mutant teenagers could actually make your brain implode.

Ororo had found herself lost in thought as she made her way through the second hallway, past the recreation room: she thought about how she was slow sleep deprived she was surprised she could function. Not many people knew, that Ororo had woken up with the sun; not to do any pagan rituals (although she admitted to doing them a lot more often then what she used to), It also wasn’t because she thought that the brisk morning exercises would brighten her day. No; Ororo often a woke with the sun, because the amount of times that she was woken up in the middle of the night with various incidents, by the time everything calmed down enough for her to finally go to sleep herself; the sun would rise and she often found herself saying: ‘screw it’ and getting herself up to start the day.

Today, however (outside of the migraine) was one of those days that didn’t pay to get out of bed-her barefoot landed on her favorite pair of high heels and it caused her to limp to her private shower; of course the hot water knob came loose in her hand so she had to take a cold shower as to not subject her self to third degree burns, she’ll put a work-order into Logan later-he was nice enough to volunteer to do maintenance until she could higher someone else-truth was she’d be lost without that rugged Canadian.

She also ripped her only clean pair of pantyhose, poked herself in the eye with her mascara brush.

To top everything else, while lost in thought about her morning, she just burnt her full lips on a cup of too hot freshly made coffee “Goddess! Today is only Monday.”

She groaned as she took an ice cube from the freezer and sucked on it too cool down her burn.

Logan walked in at the same moment “afternoon ‘Ro.”

“Hmm.”

“Ya okay?

She nodded: “Sorry Logan, just one of those days.”

“Sorry.”

She smiled “not your fault, speaking of, can you come to my office later?”
He smiled wolfishly “well, Headmistress Munroe, have I been a bad boy?” he playfully held her against the counter.

They’ve been flirting a bit more openly lately, she didn’t mind, in fact she secretly relished little moments like these between the two of them. “I have a maintenance order for my quarters.”

He nodded, “Sure, I gotta pretty light load today, I could probably get it done by the end of day.”

She smiled widely, “Thank you Logan - and when you come by...” she ran a hand along his forearm “bring your tool belt. I always loved a man who could-” BOOM! The sound of an explosion brought her back to reality “what the hell was that?”

Logan shrugged and she soon got her answer when a boy named Leon Vaughn came downstairs with no eyebrows and a soot covered faced; Logan raised an eyebrow “ya okay, kid?”

“Chemistry’s fun.” Leon grinned and blinked twice.

The two teachers looked at each other and shook their heads “I’ll get the fire extinguisher.”

“I’ll call the insurance company.”

Both went to their spots when Logan shoulder down the hall “Oh yeah! Hey ‘Ro?”

“Yes?”

“Hank called he’s still in DC on business. Sorry!”

She waved her thanks, but groaned when she hit sat at her office desk, that meant that she needed to find a substitute, one more thing to add to the list. She looked at the calendar on her desk, yep, today was only Monday.


It was late in the afternoon, and well after lunch (she still didn’t get anything to eat) when things had calmed down amongst the school that Ororo had actually managed to get some work done.

She was half way through a pile of marking she was putting off when the phone rang. “Xavier institute for gifted youngsters, Ororo Munroe speaking, how may I help you?” She rolled her eye and grabbed a pink flower post-it note; part of a gift from Jubilee note: shorten phone speech and she stuck the post-it to her computer monitor.

“Hello, may I please speak to Mr. Charles Xavier?”

Ororo squeezed her eyes shut and she took a deep breath; “I’m sorry Charles is no longer with us.”

“Oh.” Was the only response from the female on the other line.

Ororo tried to remember if she in fact called everyone from his rolodex in regards of his death; perhaps she had missed someone? The girl still talking brought the former Goddess out of her thoughts

“Did he leave the school,” she was asking “is it possible to get a forwarding address?”
Ororo sighed, she hated giving bad news: “who am I speaking to?”

The woman caught herself and chuckled “oh sorry! My name is Laurel Johansen I am the new manager at the: First National Bank in New York City.”

“Oh! I see.” She sighed “I, hmm...Charles Xavier passed away, quite recently. I am the executrix of his estate though; Is there something I can help you with?”

Laurel hummed to herself quietly and then answered “I am quite sorry to hear about your loss.”

“Thank you.” The response was professional and automatic.

“Would you be able to point in the direction of an: Aurora Montrose?”

Ororo looked at the phone receiver as if she did not hear right at first “I am sorry did you say: Aurora Montrose?” Xavier’s writing had been known to be worse then chicken scratch on his best day and Ororo questioning the same gave the woman a chance on the other end to reread it.

Sure enough Ororo heard a sigh “Oh! I’m so embarrassed the writing in the folder is-”

“Hard to read?” Ororo finished.

Both woman shared a chuckle.

Laurel picked up from where she left off “it looks like Ororo Munroe? Is that it?” she sounded hopeful.

Ororo smiled through the phone “It is and you are speaking with her, may I help you?” Ororo’s patience was wearing thin.

“Oh! Such a pretty name; I mean. I am new here at First National so I was familiarizing myself with some of the older files, and I found that Mr. Xavier had a safety deposit box here at the bank with us, and I was wondering what he wanted to do with it.”

Ororo tried to think about Charles’ personal estate and everything was drawing a blank “this is a long shot, Laurel, but, you wouldn’t be able to tell me what is in the safety deposit box would you?”

“Sorry, not without permission from Charles or the Executor of the estate.”

Ororo groaned “I am the executrix of the estate.”

“So you say-would you be able to prove this?”

“Depends?”

“On?”

“What do you need?”
“Oh thats easy, two forms of government ID, proof that you live in the state, a copy of his death certificate and an original copy of his last will and testament where it states that you are indeed the executrix.”

Ororo wrote all this down on a legal pad, suddenly glad that she paid Hank to write up a fake death certificate and reason of death, considering they never actually had a body.

“Okay, so I fax you all these things into you and then what?”

“Oh no; Miss Montrose-”

“Munroe-” Ororo corrected.

“What?”

“Never mind”

“Oh, okay. Well, I think I think you misunderstood me. I need the originals of these documents and if you fax them in-”

“They are no longer the originals.” Ororo finished; “would you at least be able to tell me if the safety deposit box is in trust to anyone? We run a school here, perhaps if it is in trust to one of the students I could take the student with me and they could make the decision on what to do with the box.”

Laurel nodded despite being on the phone and not being able to be seen by the Weather Goddess: “sure, I can do that.”

Ororo smiled finally we are getting somewhere she thought: “great!”

Silence.

Ororo thought for a brief second they got disconnected “hello?”

“Hi.”

“Laurel?”

“Yes?”

“You were going to tell me who the box was in trust to.”

Laurel nodded again: “oh, yes! As soon as I get those documents.”
Ororo fought the urge to beat herself unconscious; “I will get back to you when I set up the travel arrangements and the documents, Laurel, thank you.” She wrote down the girl’s contact information and hung up before the girl could wish her a ‘nice day.’

It was 2:00 and already she had a second migraine coming on; she sighed and massaged her temples, their was a knock at the door “Enter at your own risk.” She called out, as she booted up her barely used computer.

Sure enough the big wooden doors to her office opened and Logan was carrying a black lacquered tray hand pained with cherry blossoms and Japanese Kanji symbols on it; “hey,” he sat down the tray and handed her the lass of ice water and two Advil and watched her smile.

“How did you know?” she whispered after downing some of the water.

“How did I know what? that you’d be needing the Advil?”

She nodded.

“Cause eve’y day at ‘bout 2:00 ya complain of a headache or a migraine dependin’ on the chaos of the day and eve’y day at 2:00 yer on the verge of tears and ready to stop everythin’ ‘til ya fix yerself a green tea,” he pointed at the second mug on the tray, “and ya take two Advil and we give ya half an hour ta crash at yer desk.”

He situated himself behind her and started to massage her shoulders, she leaned into his strong hands and closed her eyes.

The sound that escaped her mouth was a half chuckle and half moan “have I really become that predictable Logan?”

“Only since you’ve-”

“Become headmistress.” She teased, finishing his sentence for him.

It was his turn to raise an eyebrow; “Guess it’s my turn to ask if I become predictable or what not, eh?”

She opened up a group of files on the hard drive of the PC and she shook her head as she clicked, double clicked and re-clicked random files “only since I’ve become headmistress.”

It was his turn to chuckle; “cute.”

“I try.”

“You succeed.”

Beat.

He cleared his throat; “what are ya looking fer?”

She told him about the conversation with Laurel.

“So...yer tryin’ ta figure out if ya can find somethin’ ‘bout it that ya may have over looked before?

Ororo nodded and bent her head to smile at him “you catch on quick, my little Canadian friend.”

He shrugged “I have my moments.” He smiled as he rolled his thumbs a long her neck “any luck?”

“Squat. To put it bluntly.”

“Shitty.”

“My thoughts exactly.” She leaned back in her leather chair and thought about it, taking a sip from her green tea “It doesn’t make any sense; being the executrix of his will along with Scott. We know about every safe, every combination and every piece of paper with a dollar sign on it. I do not recall anything involving a personal safety deposit box with First National.”

Logan stopped rubbing her shoulders and sat on the edge of the desk facing her, his back towards the monitor; “maybe it ain’t got money in it.”

“What do you mean?” she shook her head.

“Maybe its got sentimental value. Like old love letters and the like, that he didn’t want ta get damaged, or a bronzed pair of his son’s baby shoes or somethin’ sentimental like.”

“He doesn’t have kids. The love letters could be an idea. But, still I’ll know if their was a deposit box; he’s been over everything with us...and, I can’t exactly ask Scott.”

“I knew he’d come in handy for somethin’ eventually,” he teased.

She slapped his knee “laugh if you must, but Scott and Jean were my first friends here in America, and loosing them was like loosing a brother and sister.”

He frowned and took her hand “I know, I’m sorry. Its just..He got on my nerves.”
“Oh, he got on mine too. I’m just saying him dying was like loosing a brother.” She winked, “You know what this means right?” referring again to the conversation with Laurel and the mystery of the safety deposit box.

“What?”

“I got to go to New York; which means you got to babysit.”

“Oh joy.” He paused “are ya sure ya wantin’ ta be goin’ to find this stuff out for yerself?”

“It is not going to be anything illegal, Logan.”

“I know but what if its emotionally traumatizin’? Like a paternity test to a kid that might’ve been his? And, the results were locked away in an envelope sealed away forever in the safety deposit box. Because, he never wanted to know if the child was his. So, now with this information you have to scour the country lookin’ for Xavier’s flesh and blood to tell the child that his biological father that he never knew is now dead.”

Ororo laughed, It was like the first warm day after a January cold snap: “two things, Logan, a) he is the most powerful psychic in the world, he would know if he had a child. and b) you are not allowed to watch those made for TV Sunday movies on the Woman’s network anymore. No matter how many times Rogue bug you.”

He shook his head; “it was Kitty. ‘N don’t say I didn’t warn you. Okay! What if it was weapon’s grade plutonium?”

“In a safety deposit box? In a bank?”

He shrugged.

She laughed, “Your babysitting as soon as I can leave for a day, and your nuts.”

“You loooove me.” God he loved bugging this woman, anything to hear her laugh.
“Get out! You nut case!” She was still laughing.

It wasn’t until he left that she admitted to herself that she did. It was just unfortunate that nothing could change between them.

Somewhere between packing her back, booking the motel room as a ‘just in case,’ and finding the information she needed to present to Laurel at the bank; she contemplated bringing Logan with her for the emotional support.

Their talk on the Monday got her thinking; and since Hank was back from DC Hank could have babysat.

No; this was something that she had to do on her own.

There were just somethings you had to do on your own.

~ ~ ~

Wednesday morning, Ororo “Storm” Munroe walked to the reception desk of the First National bank that she was directed to go to over the phone on Monday and asked the modelesque blond girl with the exotic accent that if she could speak to Laurel and that she had an appointment.

Ten minutes after meeting with the receptionist; a short stalky woman; with a hair cut too short to fit her sweet chubby looking face, and raven black hair came out of her office. Wearing a dark red business suit and too high heels that was made it obvious that she couldn’t walk in. If Ororo had to guess she Laurel didn’t look to be that much older then Katherine Pryde at the mansion which was a little strange, considering she introduced herself on the phone as the new bank manager; Laurel came over with a big genuine smile on her scarlet colored painted lips “Ororo? Hi I’m Laurel, its nice to finally meet you.” She shook the hand of the headmistress, “Is it okay if I call you that? Am I saying it right? I’ve been practicing.” She grinned rather proud of herself.

Ororo smiled; “yes, yes its fine; and you are pronouncing it perfectly.” She held up the manila folder “so, uhm, where are we going to do this?”

Laurel smiled “in my office, I’m sorry if I come off nervous; I’m not usually. Its my first week on the job and I’m still trying to get used to things. So its a little odd for me to be handling an account this large. Would you like me to take your jacket? Would you like a bottle of water or anything.”

They walked into the small office with a fairly decent view of Broadway and seventh. Ororo smiled and took off her own navy blue blazer but slipped it on her chair behind her: “Well congratulations, I hope it won’t be too difficult for you. As for the water and the jacket, thanks for the offer, but I’m fine.” The headmistress handed the bank manager the file and caught a glimpse of what looked to be a pink paw print tattoo on Laurel’s wrist, “That’s cute.” She pointed to the tattoo that was slightly peeking out of the girl’s blouse sleeve.

Laurel blushed and fixed her sleeve but thanked Ororo for noticing; “okay everything looks to be in order, here.” Suddenly getting down to business; as if a switch was turned on.

“You are indeed the executrix of Mr. Xavier’s will; did I already give you my condolences on your loss?”

Ororo nodded and thanked her again.

Laurel smiled; “okay the account seems to be in two names; and we have explicit instructions that either men need to be in the room when the safety deposit box is open.”

Ororo breathed a sigh and prepared herself, please don’t let it be Scott,“can you tell me who the other person on the account is so I can contact them?”

Laurel nodded, “Because you are one half of the party, I can tell you, that the other name is: David Munroe. Would you know how to get a hold of him? I have an address for him, its located in-”

“Harlem.”

“Yes, how did you know?”

“B..b..because he’s my father.”

Laurel gave half a smile; “So you just need to bring in your father, and...”

Ororo shook her head; “my father is dead. He has been for a very long time.” She put her hand to her head “this doesn’t make any sense. My father didn’t know Charles Xavier..I...”

Laurel frowned; “perhaps it is a different David Munroe.”

“Could be possible.” Ororo’s head swam.

Laurel looked through the file folder for any answers that might have been able to help the exotic beauty; she pulled out a photo about the size of a passport photo “is this the man who you know?”

Ororo was shown a photo of a handsome clean shaven black man; and she was instantly brought back to times of her childhood, filled with laughter and love; “yes,” she swallowed the tears “this is my father.”
Laurel passed Ororo a kleenex and shut the file folder “Ororo, if you can bring me proof that your father has passed, and the executorexecutrix of his own estate, I can bring you in. But, I have to follow the instructions in the file.”

Ororo nodded, “He died over seas; the only other person who would be his executor would be,” she sighed “my mother.”

“Okay perfect.” She sounded hopeful.

Ororo shook her head; “she passed away with him. It was a..matter of...civil war.”

Laurel rubbed her tired eyes; “Jesus, I’m sorry.” She rubbed a hand through her short black hair; she liked this woman and wanted to do what she could to help her, but she had rules to follow; “okay, take a few days. Bring me the information that you can find about this David Munroe person, and I will see what I can do. Okay?”

Ororo nodded “Its been..twenty five years, I am not sure how much information I can find.” Her head still reeled over the news that her father and her beloved professor had an account with each other; what else was hidden from her?

Laurel grabbed a bottle of water from the case by her feet and handed it to Ororo “try, okay? I am here all week. If you find anything. Call me, okay?”

Ororo nodded, “You mean like a death certificate or something?”

Laurel nodded and smiled “perfect. I’ll see if there is a loop hole on my end, as well, okay?”

Ororo smiled and shook the girl’s hand “thank you.” Ororo still in some sort of weird shock filled state, managed to make it back to her car and inside her hotel room without any major incidents.


She flopped down on the bed, after a hot shower; and didn’t hear anything on well past noon.

Ororo spent 45 minutes on alternating between three different answering machines, one in Cairo with an 18 hours time difference with New York City.

Again alternating between what little Arabic she remembered from back in the day, French, English and getting no where.

She sighed; there has got to be a loop hole, anything. Ororo looked through her personal belongings for anything that might’ve been a clue that could be of help and then Ororo remembered the conversation between Laurel and Ororo about how she said that she was new to being manger at the bank. Perhaps, there was a loop hole that she didn’t know about.

Ororo sighed and got dressed again; this time in a pair of Jeans, strapped sandals gold sandals and a black Peter Gabriel Concert Tee she got from her first American Concert with Jean and Scott; that she was surprised she found in the back of her closet and still fit. “Anything is better than waiting around until death finds me.” Ororo quickly grabbed her keycard and drove back to the bank.

~ ~ ~

Laurel; came out with another smile on her face “Ororo?! Back so soon. Found something that I hope can help with your little mystery?”

Ororo half smiled but shook her head; “no, I’m afraid not. Every idea that I get leads me back to Cairo and its after midnight over their right now.”

Laurel frowned “oh dear, that is quite a conundrum, isn’t it? What can I help you with?”

The girls walked back to her office and Ororo nodded “I was hoping we could look through the file again; there has to be something you missed, A note? A letter? A photograph? Anything.”

Laurel bit her bottom lips and sucked on it a bit; “I am going to be honest with you, Ororo, I’ve been through the file twice since you left. I didn’t find anything that made sense.”
She smiled wildly all of a sudden, her eyes actually sparked a new life in them and if Ororo rose a perfectly manicured cloud of an eyebrow “but, what’s that’s that saying? Third time is the charm,” she bit a hangnail and grabbed the file from her top cabinet drawer and shrugged “sue me, I like a good mystery.” She made photo copies of the file for Ororo and passed her the original, Ororo raised another questioning eyebrow “it doesn’t say you can’t see the file, it just says that you can’t see what’s in the box. Besides, there is no details written anywhere about what is in the box, I checked. Repeatedly.”


~ ~ ~

It was somewhere between the second coffee run, and the Kung Pao chicken; when Ororo tiredly rubbed her eyes and turned the file folder upside down and saw numbers written in pencil on the what would now be the top of the file and took the pen out of her mouth long enough to finally ask Laurel about it; “Laurel? These numbers? What are they?”

Laurel didn’t have the file, Ororo did. So Laurel had no idea what Ororo was talking about “what numbers?”

Ororo showed her the numbers she was staring at.

Laurel rubbed her tired eyes and wrote them down on a piece of paper “could be anything; a phone number, coordinates.” She punched the numbers into google maps but nothing came up “no..not coordinates.” She looked at her computer and sighed “no..fucking..um..‘scuse my language; always did cuss like a sailor.”

Ororo waved it off “I live with a guy who spent his entire life in the army; I’m used to it. What are the numbers? Did you figure it out?”

Laurel sucked on her bottom lip again; “not entirely, but..maybe something..the account is over 30 years old..but its one of the first ones that was computerized..so..it is possible.”

Ororo was getting ready to beat herself un-conscience again: “Laurel?”

“Yes?”

“The numbers.”

“The num...ooh right! Sorry.” She blushed “I think its a number to an extension catalogue.” When Ororo’s only response was blinking twice, Laurel took it as a sign to explain further “some of our older accounts, had amendments and stuff over the years and decades they have been with the bank. Key holders added, things like that.”

Ororo nodded and was getting a sore neck from doing so.

“Sometimes the amendments and files and stuff get so large, or are really messed up instructions; like one time this guy wrote a whole novel length scavenger hunt as ‘special instructions’-anyway...babbling again, heh. Sometimes we have to move the amendments to another extension kinda like file one of four or whatever. I think this penciled number in the corner is an extension number like for another file..or a note or something,” the young woman shrugged. “maybe.”

Ororo’s sky blue eyes widened in disbelief “well? How do you find out?”

Laurel turned to the computer and punched it in, a little box popped up “E178-A43” It was Laurel’s turn to raise an eyebrow “speaking of scavenger hunts. ‘Scuse me.”

Ororo sat back and rubbed the bridge of her nose and sighed, and she thought about the kids and Logan and what they were probably doing with her not there probably running ragged and causing trouble. Probably Logan more than the kids she half chuckled.

The clacking of high heels made Ororo sit up straighter and rub her eyes, Laurel was in the door way looking like she was going to cry; “I don’t believe this.”

“Oh?”

“I was right, it was an extension. A second set of instructions. To be frank its actually a paper on ‘what to do in case David Munroe or Charles Xavier could not be with the person who was to open it. Want me to read the instructions?”

Ororo nodded finally.

“To whom it may concern; this safety deposit box, that was put into trust for Ororo Iqadi Munroe by her parents David and N’Dare. They had entrusted me; Charles Francis Xavier to keep the box safe for Ororo. The box is to only be open by Ororo Munroe. I would like to be there, as I know her father would have wanted it that way. If that is not possible. All Ororo would have to do is give the password to the bank manager and everything will be set in motion.” The letter ended and Laurel licked her suddenly dry lips.

Ororo sat with tears in her eyes “password? I..I have no clue..password?”

Laurel nodded and punched the account number on the computer and sure enough a little green box with a cursor popped up “any ideas?” she whispered.

“Not a one. I knew Charles Xavier for almost a third of my life, not once did I know that he knew my father. The man never hinted at it at all. Where am I to start?”

Laurel sighed and took her high heels off and tucked them under her; she reached into her desk and gave Ororo a legal pad “if I can suggest? Write everything your father may or does have in common with Charles Xavier. From there it could be a process of elimination. Can I try to eliminate some obvious ones right off the bat?”
Ororo nodded; and tried to think as Laurel turned to the computer and punched random letters on the computer. “Well, if anything-who ever set the password on this was very smart about it. It is not: Ororo, Munroe, Xavier, N’Dare or David.” She tried another one “or Iqadi.”

“Just to halt all stupidity, cause if I don’t try this then I give up: is the password swordfish?” Ororo shrugged.

Laurel giggled, tried it and shook her head “nope,” She wrote it on the list of ‘all ready tried.’

“Sorry, I know it seemed random, but they both had this thing for those old movies, you know the black and white ones done in like the 50s and stuff? That was the only thing they really ever had it common. I don’t.” She sighed “I don’t remember a lot about my father, but I remember laying my head in his lap every Saturday morning and instead of cartoons we would watch John Wayne, or Cary Grant.”

Laurel found herself smiling at the memory even though it wasn’t hers; “its also not movie, film, cinema, John, Wayne, Cary, Grant.”

Ororo looked at her incredulously.

Laurel shrugged, “You would be surprised. Since you’re wondering.” She typed in several other key words before she spoke “its also not: Oz, tin man, scarecrow, auntie em, tornado, no place like home, air balloon, the wizard, Dorothy, Toto, Glenda, or witch, munchkin or yellow brick road.”

Ororo sighed, “How did you know I was going to say something about the wizard of Oz?”

“Its everyone’s favorite movie, and you did mention classic movies.”

“Its not password is it?”

“and the password is...not password.”

Ororo rested her head on the desk in front of her “It has to be something they both have in common or it won’t make any sense: New York? Harlem? Photography? National Geographic.”

“National Geographic?”

“My father was a photographer for them, and Charles had a subscription.”
“Ah.”
Ororo continued to think and talk to herself.

“No, no, no, and no.”

“Damn, damn, damn and damn.”

“This feels like something out of a Dan Brown novel.”

“More like Katherine Neville.”

“Ooh, hers two have you read the eight? Fan-freaking-tastic!”

“Chess!”

More clacking “not: bishop, pawn, rook, king, queen, board, black, white, square, knight.”

“Did they used to play together?”

“I am not sure. I was reaching for straws with that one. My father died when I was very young, both parents actually; I did not meet Charles until I was well into my teen, almost adult years. I..I am sorry Laurel, but none of this is making any sense. The only other things that I could see them having in common is Africa, but, that is such a broad topic.”

Laurel played with the ends of her hair “I know this is frustrating, if you want to stop we can. Maybe pick it up in the morning.” Laurel looked at her watch.

Ororo facepalmed herself gently; “Laurel, I’m sorry! You probably have a life outside this office, and here I am dominating your evening, I..we can pick this up again tomorrow if that is better for you.”

“The only thing I have at home is DJ Meow Mix. A tiger colored domestic kitty.” She laughed “my niece named her on a visit here, and if I know Mr. Mix he’s already gotten himself something to eat. Too inquisitive for his own good,” she chuckled. “I was just thinking about you; This part of New York isn’t a bad area. But, if you don’t have a car, It could be a little sketchy.”

Ororo shrugged nonchalantly, “I can take care of myself.”

Laurel nodded, “Okay, tell you what. Its almost eight we’ll stay for another twenty minutes, and then I’ll drive you to you’re hotel tonight and we can pick it up tomorrow.”

“Sounds like a plan.”

“Good. Where were we? Oooh! Right, Africa.”

“Its a continent.”

Laurel shot her a ‘well Duh,’ look “anything more specific or did you want me to type in Africa?”

“I don’t know much about the professor’s travels; the only thing I can think African that they’d have in common would be Egypt.”

“Egypt.”

Ororo nodded, “my family and I lived in Cairo and...ooh yeah, I guess Kenya too.”

“Kenya.”

“Yep.”

“So...How do you want to deal with this?”

She chewed on her full bottom lip and shrugged, she found herself chuckling; she always chastised the students for shrugging and being so indecisive and nonchalant about everything, and she shrugged more than her fair share today; “Honestly, if its anything to do about Africa; it’d be more Egypt. Let’s concentrate on that one.”

Laurel nodded, “Fair enough; so what do we got? Pyramids, Sphinxes, Bazaars, camels.” She paused “I know I’m over generalizing, I’m sorry.”

“You are right mostly, at least in the ‘tourists sector.’ So many museums, so much history,” She sighed “and can’t forget the sand.” She placed her dainty, tiny hands to both her temples and closed her eyes trying to shake bad memories.

“Nada.” more clacking of the keys and scratching on a legal pad.

“This is getting ridiculous.” Ororo sighed.

“Tell me about it?” Laurel made a face at her cold coffee.

“Can I ask you something?”

“Of Course.”

“This isn’t some weird elaborate hoax is it?”

“What do you mean?”

“When I was little my dad, to give me my birthday present would put me on this big long extravagant scavenger hunt to find it. Sometimes the hunts were more fun than the actual gifts. Sometimes Charles would do the same thing, send me on wild hunts so I can keep my puzzle solving skills up to par.”

Laurel was understanding now, “I’m going to level with you Ororo. If it was some sort of trick, or surprise. I would’ve given you the password along time ago, if I knew it. I’m just in the dark as you on this. I’m sorry, sweetie, honestly.”

“I know, I’m sorry, I’m just-”

“Getting frustrated?”

“Hmmm.”

“Why don’t we pick up tomorrow?” she looked at her appointment book “I can clear everything passed five p.m. again, we’ve been at this for almost six hours Ororo; it’ll make sense that you are frustrated and tired; I’m sorry, we’ve shouldn’t have pushed each other so hard.”

Silence.

“Ororo? You hear me sweetie? You okay?” normally Laurel wouldn’t normally go around calling her clients ‘sweetie,’ but than again, normally she doesn’t spend six plus hours with them in any given day.

“Hmm?” Ororo yawned and excused herself “sorry, I was just thinking what Anansi must be up to.

“Uhm...repeat that? What is a Nancy?”

“Oh, uh, Anansi. Its an African legend. They originate in countries like Ghana. But every country has their own version.”

“Can I ask what that is?”

“Sure, its like those Aesop stories they teach in school’s here, like with the tortoise and the hare. Anansi, is a little spider trickster god. Who thinks he can out smart everyone but it always comes back to haunt him. There are different stories: the Anansi and the mark of the panther, how anansi got his stories. One of them became an American Folk tale. Brer Rabbit.
Laurel nodded and smiled “neat, no really thats cool! But, what does Anansi have to do with this?” Laurel rested her chin in her palm and faced Ororo so she could give Ororo her full attention.

“My father was a practical joker, but, there was always a lesson somehow behind it. Always, in his own little ‘father knows best’ kind of way. When I found out about the anansi stories, I used to call him my own little anansi.” she smiled at the memory “When Professor Xavier found me, When I grew older he would ask me to tell him, stories about our trickster friend.” Her eyes darted back and forth as she went to a small day dream state “sometimes I would tell him the stories that I knew, that my mother had told me. Other times they would be memories and stories of my father. I think the professor just wanted me to remember where I came from. Especially since I was the only African girl It was easy to get amalgamated and kind of..forget. Even though I was born in Harlem; I was still very much African when I came back.”

“Aww, thats nice...wait..so they both knew about this Anansi thing?”

Ororo nodded, and then it dawned on her “you don’t think-”

“One way to find out,” she handed Ororo the legal pad they were using as a scratch pad “how do you spell it?” Ororo quickly wrote the word down on the legal pad and the green square that was originally waiting for the password flashed once and then disappeared. “Fucking Christ!” she whispered to the screen.

Ororo raised an eyebrow and leaned forward to get a look at the computer monitor “what? What? Did something happen? Did you get thrown out of the program?”

Laurel shook her head, “that was the password. You figured it out.”

“Anansi.”

“Yes.”

“Anansi was the password.”

“Yep.”

“That was it.”

“Indeed.”

“You are kidding?”

“No.”
“Hnh.”

“What?”

“I never did like spiders.”

Laurel led Ororo back through the rest of the bank to the giant vault. She stopped before opening it “I am going to leave you into the vault, get you the safety deposit box, and set it on a table for you. Then I will leave you alone, with the contents for as much as you want or need. I can give you a bag if you want to keep anything for protection.”

“Protection.”

“For valuables.”

“Ah.”

“If you don’t want to take anything out, its one hundred dollars a month of keep the safety deposit box, with the account that Charles and your father had, any questions?”

Ororo played with her ear lobe and shook her head “n-no...”

Laurel nodded “very well,” she went to go open the large combination lock.

“W-wait.”

Laurel paused.

“Why aren’t you in there with me?”

“Mostly its because of privacy issues. I mean because of 9/11 I should be making sure that you don’t take out like blue prints of Washington D.C. or like Toronto or something, But, I’m going to be honest, you don’t pop up enough red flags for me to worry.”

“I should feel lucky, huh?”

“Let’s just say, I didn’t have to call the FBI or anything, so you’re good.

“Thanks.” The girls shared a smile, “I’ll be quick.

“I’ll be in the office; take as much time as you need.” Laurel opened the giant combination lock and they walked into the giant stainless steel, to the untrained eye the silver panels that gave the room a cold careless feel to the room looked, just like the silver panels you would see in the danger room, but to the bank manager. Each one was a secret little treasure chest that held people’s most dear secrets; and with her having the only combination. She was the gate keeper; she relished in knowing that.

They walked down hundreds of rows of the little silver rectangles, it would’ve been easy to get lost, at least for a good twenty minutes anyway.

It took all of Ororo’s strength to stop the thief inside of her from counting the steps.

They came into a little corridor with three steps leading down “we go down I take it?”

“We go down.”



Fifteen minutes later, Ororo and Laurel finally arrived at the row of boxes, where they would find the mutant’s. “sorry,” Laurel started, “we’re trying to incorporate a computer system into the vaults, but not all of it is up and running.”

Ororo was quiet, contemplative, scared. What the hell was in the box that she wouldn’t be able to know until now? Was Logan right? Did she have a sister or a brother somewhere? Notice that she was adopted, and N’Dare and David Munroe were not actually her parents? That would probably break her heart, something fierce. She took a cleansing breath.

Laurel hummed as she took the box out of its little opening and placed it on a table near by “I’ll leave you alone, now.” She rested a friendly hand on Ororo’s shoulder and quickly left.

Ororo didn’t go near the box, or the table. She stared at the stainless steel rectangle box and more questions swirled in her mind. I don’t have to open it now, I know the password. I can come back with Logan or Hank for moral support, An inner voice coaxed her gently.

Or you can be the warrior and Champion that you were trained to be, stop pussy-footin’ around and do it. What? You can save the world, but can’t open a fuckin’ box? The second voice that started to coax her was sounding an awfully lot like Logan, she hated that voice and his logic.

He’s right.

Is not.

Is too.

Shut up.

Open the box.

Traitor.

She shook her head so the arguing voices will stop, what will it take for you to open the box, Ororo? What would you tell your students to do?

If I kill you is it murder? Or suicide?

If you kill me..er...you. You won’t ever find out what’s in the box. And, you die never knowing cause your too weak to open the box.

That voice was getting mean, but its argument was winning ands he found herself walking towards the table with shaky hands.

Her small dainty, coffee colored hands rested upon the cool stainless steel and she pulled it closer to her taking a breath.

Wait!

The voice started again. The more it talked the more it did sound like Logan; she was waiting for him to pop out somewhere.

What?

Another voice popped up somewhere, she can’t believe voices were having full conversations in her head, maybe she really was going crazy.

Its a bomb! Heh heh. Sorry, just wanted to see what you’d do.

Normally I’d smack you but it’d hurt and I would look incredibly insane.

Don’t you already?

I’m opening the box.

Finally.

Shut up!

Her hands found the little button by the lid that made it pop up and she flipped the lid open, she sighed on top of everything else was a white envelope, it had her name written on it in familiar blocky chicken scratch and she smiled quietly, she never thought she’d see that writing ever again.

Her hand brushed over the envelope before she took it out and she held it in her hands, she turned it over in her hands and she slid a nail underneath it quietly ripping the top of he envelope open, she poured out the contents, it was a piece of lined paper from his legal pad on the desk. Dated a four years ago.



My Dearest Ororo;

Somehow I know that if you are reading this letter, I am not in that room with you.
This saddens me more than you know.
Not, because I am probably, more than likely dead.
But, because I can never again see your smiling face.
Or hearing your gentle laugh.

Your parents will be proud of you Ororo, I know that I should have told you sooner, about knowing them.
But, I had to keep that promise to your father.
You may not believe me, but I was one of the first people to hold you, You were a little bitty thing, with this snow white hair and these piercing blue eyes that managed to look into my soul.
Not much has changed my girl.

Maybe I should start from the beginning; I met your parents through my wife Moira.
She was quite involved in the civil rights movement and met your Father and Mother helping them escape a pack of quite angry German Shepherds.
They had hit it off famously, and your mother, N’Dare and my wife were quite inseparable.
Almost like you and Jean are now.

Let me tell you something, Ororo.
Despite me being a married man, and quite dedicated to my wife, until her death.
Your mother, was the most beautiful woman who has walked God’s green Earth.
I never thought I would ever see a woman as beautiful as she was until my own death.
Then again, I met you 14 years later, You are more like your mother every day, her friendship was a great honor to have.
Both of you parents had honored me with their friendship.
You do as well.
I don’t think I have ever had a chance to tell you that.
I am saddened, even more that I realized this.

I can tell you a million stories about N’Dare and David, Ororo, but I am not really here to right a book.
I probably could, though, it’d be a book about a loving couple who would do anything for their daughter and how, I didn’t even think it was possible, But, they became more loving when you came into this world.
You being born, was the first time I ever seen your father cry in the three years of friendship we had before your little arrival.
It wasn’t because he was sad, completely the opposite.
He had so much joy and love in his heart for his little Princess.
It was the only way he know how to express it.

A little part of me died, when I found out that your parents died, when they moved to Egypt. They moved, not because of the Job, Ororo, but because your parents wanted to keep you safe; from all the civil unrest in your own New York City.
I had once promised your parents, that if something were to happen to them, then Moira and myself would take you in like our own.
Imagine, my heartbreak when I found out about their violent passing and I couldn’t find you in Egypt?
Moira, until her death, and I spent every summer for 12 years looking for you my dear.
Imagine my happiness when you found me and stole my wallet.
Ha-ha.

I know this box should have been yours along time ago, but, it is yours know, I am not sure why I never gave it to you until now.
Apart of me guess I hoped that you would be able to get along without knowing your past; for the most part I was right.
I am sorry.
deeply, truly sorry.
I never should have not given you this box, Ororo, can you forgive an old diluted man who was just trying to protect you?

There isn’t a lot in this little box, to be honest, there is more in the estate.
I will tell you where in another letter.
Don’t worry, no more scavenger hunts.
I will tell you out right.

I know you never were one for material positions.
Your mother was the same, it’s funny though, because your father got it in his head somehow that he had to buy both of you the world.
He never realized that it was him who was her world. Both of you. Were her world.
There is not a lot in this little safety deposit box, after all they are rather quite small.
Just a few mementos that they wanted to make sure you have.
Photographs and the like, old diaries...
Well, look through it I know you want to.
You always were one for a bit of a mystery.

One more thing, before I go.
I loved you like you were my own, and seeing you grow up from this little malnourished orphan.
To a woman who is so gorgeous that words fail to describe.
I am proud of you.
Proud of the confident woman you become as Ororo Munroe, Proud of the leader in Storm.
But more importantly, I am proud that you seemed to find this perfect semblance of both Storm and Ororo in your life.
Your parents will be proud, Ororo Munroe.
I know I am.

~Charles.

She was glad that was where the letter had ended, because her eyes were so blurry from her unshed tears that was afraid that if their was any more. She wouldn’t be able to read it.

She sighed and sucked on her bottom lip as he put the letter down on the table and went through the rest of the of the box, she found:

A photo of her and her parents on their wedding day looking happy and beautiful. Every bit in love.

A photo of her about three, her hair down in her back in a water fall of white, she was wearing what looked like to be one of her father’s t-shirts with a belt as a dress and a plastic tiara, she was sitting on her father’s shoulders he was showing her a piece of fruit on the tree in front of them.

Diaries from her mother “Dear Diary, today, I felt my child move in my womb for the first time” Ororo read aloud “on the outside I rest my hand on my stomach and it feel like butterflies kissing my hand, on the inside, it feels like..well it feels like I got kicked in the ribs.”

Ororo smiled despite the tears in her eyes “I never knew it was possible to love someone so much, and I have never met them yet. I cannot wait for David to come home so he can enjoy this as well.” She finished the passage.

A candid shot of Moira, David, N’Dare and Charles at some sort of protest.

A newspaper clipping of...she squinted to see the photo better. It looked to be her sitting on her father’s shoulders again, couldn’t have been more than about one. “who is that speaking?”
she tried to get a better look at the man who was standing at the podium. Obviously having the crowd rivited. She read the article “Martin Luther King?!” she gasped “Oh Wow!” she read the caption “It looks like everyone supports Martin Luther King’s dream, One year old Ororo Munroe with her father David and friend Charles listens intently” she smiled “heh.”

A few more trinkets, a necklace, another diary, a few personal photos, one of Moira and Charles at Christmas, Ororo sitting on Charles’ lap her hands covered is something sticky. The mischievous look in Ororo’s eye you could tell that she wanted to do something to that silk tie Charles was wearing “oh no.” she giggled “I hope I didn’t do anything too bad.” She talked to herself.

She found another letter in a white envelope, this one yellowed with age, she paused at this one, she didn’t recognize the writing, but, something told her to open it. damn voices.
She ran a fingernail under the flap and slid out the yellowed paper, again from age and she sighed.

It was written by her father. Two days before their death. She read:





Dear daughter I tiptoed to your room tonight
And I looked down at you smiling in your sleep
You were so lovely my heart nearly broke.

And I thought how very much like sleeping beauty a little girl is
When I tuck you in at night I never know how old you'll be when you wake
One evening you crawl on your dad's lap and throw your arms around his neck
The next morning you might be much too grownup for that sort of thing.

You're so quickly approachin' my awkward age
Too young to drive a car and yet too old to be carried
Into the house half asleep on daddy's shoulder
I have a secret that I've never told you Sleeping Beauty.

You're going on a very exciting trip
You'll travel from yesterday all the way to tomorrow
It's a rapid journey and you'll travel light
Leavin' behind your measles mumps freckles bumps bubblegum and me.

I promise not to feel too hurt when you discover
That the world is more important than your daddy's lap
Yesterday you were blue-jeaned and pig-tailed the neighborhood's best tree-climber
Tomorrow you'll be blue-organdie and ponny-tailed
And you'll view the world from a loftier perch a pair of high-heel shoes.

Yesterday you could mend a doll's broken leg with a hug
Tomorrow you'll be able to break a young man's heart with a kiss
Ha ha yesterday you could get lost one aisle away from me in a supermarket
Now I have to worry about losin' you down another aisle to some strange young man.

You see just at the point where your growing pains stop mine begin
Yesterday you were kind of a pain in the neck when you were around
Tomorrow you'll be an ache in my heart when you're not
Tomorrow you'll lay aside your jumprope and tie up the telephone lines.

And that little boy that used to push you in the mud
Well he'll fight to set out a dance with you.

The clock upstairs is countin' the minutes for you
And the sky upstairs is savin' its brightest stars
And the sun is waitin' with its shinest day.


Oh I can't expect you to live in a dollhouse forever
Sooner or later the butterfly sheds its cocoon and the smallest bird must try its wings.

But when you grow up and out of my arms when you finally get too big for my shirts
I'll still recall how you used to scatter dust and dolls.

And partially through every room in the house but you spread sunshine too
The dust is settled your mom picked up the dolls
But the sunshine will always fill the corners of our hearts.

So here I am talkin' in your sleep
Because well if you saw this look on my face you'd laugh
And if I spoke with this lump in my throat I'd cry.

Yeah honey when I looked at you tonight you were a Sleeping Beauty
So I tiptoed over and I kissed you, you didn't wake up I knew you wouldn't
According to the legend only the handsome young prince can open your eyes
And I'm just the father of a future bride.

So you sleep on pretty thing tomorrow you'll awake and you'll be a young lady
And you won't even realize that you've changed courses in the middle of a dream
But you might notice this little change in me.

I look a little different somehow a little sadder a little wiser but a whole lot richer
Tonight I kissed a princess and I feel like a king.


“Love Daddy.” She read the last bit out loud and openly sobbed. He talked about what he saw in the future, with her and David Munroe never had a chance to see it. She never had a chance to live it. She wondered how her childhood would’ve been growing up with David and N’Dare, or hell even with Moira and Charles. Would it have been better than living on the streets, Hmmm...more than likely.

Tears started to hit the aged paper and she held the letter close to her chest, a million questions whirled around in her head they all pointed to Charles Xavier and she couldn’t ask him any of them. She cried harder for the Questions that’ll never get answered. her dead friend. her dead parents. the closure she’ll never receive. The Questions she would never get answered.

She quickly packed the items from the safety deposit box into the bag that was provided from Laurel and she put the box back into the cavity where it belonged and made her way out of the vault. Ready to go home.


~ ~ ~


It was three in the morning before she reached the estate, in upstate New York. She made inside quietly, as to not to wake anyone up.

Instead of going up stairs to her room she went back into her office and quickly found the rest of the mementoes that Charles said were in the mansion in the first letter.

They were easy to find once she realized that she had to think like that them.

‘You always were one for a bit of a mystery.’ There was one mystery novel on Charles bookshelf, she went to it and opened it. Sure enough it was a false book and a key was inside.

The key and a piece of paper that said ‘if you are mother nature, this father will definitely be on your side’ so much for no more scavenger hunts.

It was an easy clue anyway, it was the key to the back of the grandfather clock.

Sure enough another safety deposit box was in the safety deposit box, she always wondered why that the time on that clock never moved. She never thought to ask.

At 4:30 Logan came down the stairs looking for a class of water, and he found her sitting on the living room floor, pictures and books scattered around her. She was intently reading something.

“‘Ro?”

She jumped, “Goddess!”

“Heh, sorry.”

“It is okay, Logan. Did I disturb you?”

“Nah, just came down for a drink,” He moved himself into the living room and looked at some of the items on the floor “what’s all this?”

She told him.

“Wow, so, he knew yer parents all this time?” He sat down on the floor across from her, picking up a photo of her as a toddler, and he smiled.

She nodded “seems so.”

“Shit.”

“Hmm..”

“‘Ro?”

“hmm?”

“Tell me about them? if ya want to I mean.” He shrugged.

She smiled “My mother was born...” she started.

He listened.


--END--

Dislcaimers for all the chapters. In order that they are supposed to appear.:


Disclaimer: are these really that necessary? I own about as much as Marvel and the characters as Disney does..oh wait! ^_^ I’m kidding I don’t own anything.


chapter one: Disclaimer: still own nothing: ooh wait; yeah I own “Leon Vaughn”

chapter two: Disclaimer: definitely don’t own a FIRST NATIONAL BANK or any of their policies; I also don’t own Marvel or any of the Xmen characters in this fic.
I do however own bank manager: Laurel Johansen (if there is an actual Laurel Johansen that works at a First National in NYC - heh my bad).


chapter three: still don't own anything. except Laurel.

chapter four: Anything that isn’t “Laurel” I don’t own.

chapter five: Disclaimer: I still own nothing. Except Laurel, I own Laurel.

chapter six: Disclaimer: Still own nothing.

chapter seven: still don’t own anything (notice a pattern? yet?) -- the letter is the lyrics to the song “TO A SLEEPING BEAUTY” done by Jimmy Dean, I don’t own that either. (notice a pattern yet?)