Things were falling apart.
Scott Summers, better known as Cyclops ran his hands through his rust tinted brown hair, gripping the ends and tugging. He was at his wits end. With an exasperated mutter he shoved the financial ledgers in front of him off of the mahogany desk and onto the floor. With a muted curse he smacked his forehead against the now cleared desk, careful of is ruby glasses.
He did a mental inventory of the situations as they stood. His brother had left with a now depowered Lorna Dane to go find whatever it was that she saw floating in the deep recesses of space. Towering Sentinels circled the mansion, constantly monitoring, surveying, and terrifying the occupants of the school. Government action had begun on creating a list of ‘active’ mutants. Emma was making Laura’s life a living Hell and in doing so putting tremendous strain on his and her already tense relationship. Alien forces were trying to wipe out his daughter Rachel from an alternate reality and her family line, while she herself loathed him. Their recent capture by an unknown mutant hadn’t helped matters. Storm was still in Africa, her team in disarray. Gambit was becoming increasingly difficult to deal with as he and Rogue fell further and further into distrust. Bobby was much the same way.
And now this.
“Knock, knock, Slim.” Wolverine strode through the door, recently returned from doing whatever it was that he did when he left the team, most likely making several people and agencies very uncomfortable. He was followed by a morose looking Kurt.
Scott lifted his head wearily. “Please tell me you two have good news?”
Logan shook his head, his jaw clenched tight. “Wish we did.”
“Sean?” Scott felt every muscle tense.
Kurt whispered a soft prayer, before lifting his mournful golden eyes to Scott. “Nein. Our brother has fallen.”
Scott stood. “Christ.”
“We ain’t got much left to bury,” Logan said, his voice tight with repressed rage and pain. “But Banshee deserves a memorial.”
“Agreed.” Scott nodded.
Logan noted that Scott sagged like a deflated balloon.
“What happened?”
Kurt’s mouth opened, then closed. He looked at Logan for support.
“The Blackbird.” Logan supplied. “Crashed into Sean’s plane.”
“He tried to save them.” Kurt’ voice broke. “He tried.”
Logan clasped Kurt on the shoulder, sharing his grief.
“He died like a hero,” Scott said quietly. “Like an X-Man.”
Kurt’s eyes glowed and his tail swished. “Sometimes I think the price of being what we are is far too high.” *BAMF*
“You know, I’m beginning to think he’s right,” Scott muttered.
“We’re X-Men. We make sacrifices. We lose loved ones. It hurts like hell, but it comes with the territory.” Logan pulled a cigar from his front pocket. “It’s the choice we all made following Chuck and that fuckin’ dream of his.”
Scott glanced at his desk where one picture remained undisturbed. His and Jean’s wedding photo in a gold frame. Emma hated the fact that he kept that picture on his desk, but there were some things that even he wouldn’t compromise on. “Yeah.” Scott nodded. “But it does fucking suck.” With that he strode past Logan and into the hall.
Logan lifted the picture from the desk, tracing one blunt finger along the lines of Jean’s jaw. “Slim could really use ya now, Red. Hell, I could really use ya. I miss ya, Jeannie. More each day.” He set the picture back on the desk. “I need a beer,” he mumbled chewing the end of his cigar.
Later…
Kenya, Africa
Ororo slowly pressed the button of her halo-comm, sitting dazedly onto her small couch. She could feel a wail of sadness building within her breast, a piercing ache clawing for release. Sean, oh Blessed Goddess, no.
She could still see Scott’s deep sadness as he relayed the details of Sean’s death to her. Her brain numbly catalogued the information that he had given her. Sean. Dead. Funeral. Tomorrow. Estate.
Sean Cassidy had been one of the first people to fully and truly accept her when she joined the X-Men. His camaraderie and easy laughter had made many difficult times easier to bear. Times like this.
Thunder rumbled loudly in the still air, it’s threatening growl speaking what its mistress fought to contain. The sound of thousands of fat raindrops striking baked sand filled the silences between mournful rolls of thunder.
Ororo closed her eyes, curling onto her side, pressing her fist against her mouth as she sobbed in the privacy of her small cottage, the loss of a dear, dear friend weighing heavily on an already overburdened heart.
She longed for someone to hold now as grief wrapped itself around her, cocooning her in what felt like endless sadness. She felt a bitter stab of self loathing as that thought crossed her mind. Sean was gone and she was feeling self pity over not having someone to grieve with? She felt ashamed…and still alone. So very alone.
Westchester, New York
“How’d she take it?” Was the first question out of Logan’s mouth when Scott emerged from the conference room.
Scott lifted his shoulders. “Like Storm takes everything.”
Logan nodded. “She’s a strong woman.”
“She is that.” Scott agreed. “She’ll be arriving tonight.”
Logan felt a rush of warmth at that statement. “Good.”
“Yeah.” Scott leaned one shoulder against the open doorframe and after a period of silence he said, “It’s weird not having her here.”
Logan cocked his head. “Jeannie?”
Scott gave him a puzzled look. “Ororo.”
“She’ll be back.”
“I’m not certain of that.”
Logan crossed his arms and leaned back on the opposite wall. “’Ro lives for the X-Men.”
Scott nodded. “Yeah, she does. Don’t you ever wonder if maybe she gets tired of that? That she may want more for herself?”
Ororo’s soft voice filtered through Logan’s mind, a wistfulness embedded in her sultry tones as those very words passed between them only a few weeks ago.
“Of all of us she’s the most isolated. Aside from Forge I can’t think of one meaningful relationship that she has had.” Scott continued. “Maybe she’ll stay in Africa. It is her home.”
Logan tensed. “This is her home. We are her family.”
Scott sighed. “Maybe.”
“Ain’t no maybe about it. I know ‘Ro. She ain’t leaving us. She just needed some personal time to collect herself. She’s been through a helluva a lot.”
“Exactly my point. Who does she share that burden with, Logan? I have Emma, Kitty has Peter and Rachel. Kurt has his nurse. Everyone has someone.”
Logan cocked a brow.
Scott snorted. “Even you. Don’t tell me you and Yukio didn’t spend some ‘quality’ time together this last trip.”
Logan straightened. “What I do and with who ain’t yer concern, Cyke.”
Scott shrugged. He closed the conference room door and left Logan alone in the
hall.
Her code didn’t work.
Ororo frowned at the gate, pressing her nine digit code into the security box. Nothing happened. She gave an exasperated sigh, after her long flight and tiring day this was the last thing she needed. She leaned out the rental car’s window, pressing the intercom.
“Hallo?”
Emma. Great.
“Emma it’s Storm. For some reason my security code isn’t working. Open the gates.”
“How do I know it’s you and not one of our many enemies? I’m afraid I can’t take that risk.”
“Emma open the gates.”
“You must understand my hesitation given the current state of affairs. Perhaps a mind scan will clarify--”
RRRRRRRRRUUUUMMMMMMMMMMBBBBBBBBBBBBLLLLLLLLE
“You’re no fun.”
“I’m not feeling jovial at the moment, Emma. Nor particularly patient.”
The heavy wrought iron gates swung open.
Ororo parked the small sports car in the garage, releasing the trunk latch as she did. She was pulling her single suitcase from the back of the car when two well muscled arms roped around her from behind.
“Good ta see ya, darlin’.” She looked good he noted. Her long white hair was piled loosely on her head with several long strands falling down to touch bare shoulders revealed by her sleeveless lavender top. Her black skirt swished about her long legs, revealing a slit along her right thigh.
Ororo quelled the momentary rush of heat and longing she felt at his touch. She turned in his arms, circling his neck and returning his affectionate squeeze. “You as well, my friend, though for all the world I wish it was under different circumstances.”
“Yeah.” Logan was reluctant to let her go. He pressed his face into her neck, inhaling her familiar scent.
Ororo closed her eyes, equally reluctant to break the embrace.
“Don’ be stingy, Wolverine. Gambit need love too.”
Ororo lifted her head and smiled gently at her brother. He looked so withdrawn; his normal spark of deviance gone from his red on black eyes. “Remy.” She stepped from Logan’s warm embrace into her brother’s.
“Ah, Stormy.” Gambit cradled the back of her head as she lay her cheek on his chest. “Dis Cajun boy misses you.”
“You were sorely missed as well,” she replied sincerely.
Gambit took a step back, still holding her shoulders. “You look good.” he said appreciatively.
She tousled his already disheveled hair. “You look…troubled.”
Gambit’s eyes flickered over Wolverine.
Sensing his reluctance to talk with an audience, Ororo murmured. “Walk me to my boathouse?”
Gambit nodded, lacing his gloved hand with hers. “G’night, homme,” he called to Logan.
Ororo cast Logan a lingering glance over her shoulder. “Good night, Logan.”
“Yeah. ‘Night, darlin’.” Logan closed her trunk watching her walk into the night with Gambit. He hadn’t realized how much he’d actually missed her until this moment. So busy with other things he hadn’t had time to really absorb her absence, but seeing her now, he felt it to his very core. He felt more centered just knowing she was back home…where she belonged.
“Tell me what’s troubling you, Remy?”
Gambit gave a frustrated huff. “Same as always, ‘Roro.”
“Rogue.”
“Oui.”
“She still hasn’t forgiven you for Mystique?”
Gambit swore quietly. “Nothing happened.”
Ororo linked her arm through his. “I never said anything did. Why so defensive?”
“Sorry, chere. Just been apologizing for months for somet’in dat never ‘appened.”
“Mm.” She murmured, listening.
Gambit sighed. “Seems petty, t’ be so wrapped up in myself with Banshee’s funeral tomorrow.”
Ororo felt a compassionate twinge. “The world does not stop for anyone. Sean knew this. He would not mind you reflecting on yourself, even now.”
“And you, ‘Roro?”
“Hm?”
“Are you all right?”
“As well as can be expected.”
They reached the boathouse.
“Tired?” Gambit asked her.
So very, she thought. “A bit.”
“Me too.” His tone suggested he was reflecting her true feelings and not her statement.
There was something just beneath the surface of Gambit’s calm exterior that seemed off to Ororo. There was something wrong, deeply with her brother. “Remy--”
“Bonsoir, Stormy.” He kissed her softly on the lips “Sweet dreams.” He turned and strode away from her, his trademark trench flapping in the night breeze.
Ororo entered her boathouse, setting her suitcase beside the door. She flicked the light switch. Everything looked exactly the way she had left it, but something was wrong. Slowly she walked the entire house, silently observing, when it struck her as to what was bothering her. She felt displaced. Out of sync…like she didn’t belong. Her house didn’t feel like home.
Pulling out one of the barstools at her kitchen counter Ororo sat. She tapped her fingers against the laminate countertop, drumming an absent rhythm. She sat there for a long while, internally reminiscing, fondly remembering Sean and his need to be chivalrous at all times. She chuckled a bit aloud, remembering how many times he offered her his coat, even after knowing full well that she did not get cold.
She hopped from the stool and climbed the stairs to her bedroom. “You will be missed,“ she whispered, crawling onto her bed, still fully clothed. Tomorrow would be a long day.
