[Reviews - 41]
-
Table of Contents [Report This]
Microsoft Word Chapter or Story |
Printer Chapter or Story |
ePub eBook Chapter or Story |

Has been viewed 3869 times

- Text Size +




Disclaimer: I own none of the characters, or ideas. Marvel powns...oops I mean owns all.


** are telepathic thought

Ororo stands in the Xavier Memorial Garden. She smiles, and lets the memories pour from her just as much as the rain pours from above.

These events in the past eighteen months have been turbulent, to say the least. So much has happened, and not just to myself. Oh no! This black cloud of vengeful karma has seem to find its self a nice cozy spot right above the institute.

Scott, my brother. What happened? I feel like you here at dinner, well not actually at dinner. You haven’t actually talked or done anything socially or trained with us since... Then seven minutes later you were dead. Scott, can you here me? You were so alone. I tried, I really did. I even got you to smile once. Do you remember? I do. You were literally going to shred you dirty laundry. I remembered when Jean always used to make herself scarce when you needed help with that. So, this time when I saw you struggle, I didn’t mind helping you. Separating, folding, putting away. Dress shirts ironed, just a wee bit of starch, polos went in the second drawer. Darker neutrals went in first with the neckline facing the left, pastels on top facing the right. We were laughing and singing our laundry song, when Numbnuts sauntered by. Of course he thought it would be a great time to make fun of how “anal” you are. I remembered how you turned around and waited for his next remark. I turned around after you, and you had a big grin on your face. You felt for my hand, and I gave it to you to squeeze. You knew Logan would still be within hearing distance, and you mouthed, “finally.” Your glasses were being cleaned in the lab. Logan finally remembered that you had to keep your eyes shut without them. That’s right, Dumbass realized your blind, and had to have you things a certain way to function. Oh Goddoss, can he be such a fucktard! I do not want to think about him. I just ate.

Were you happy when you saw her again? I think you were. I think were happy, and she gave you something even better. She gave you eternity itself. Even though we are all mutants, we’re still human. None of us could fathom or contain that.

Not even you, my other half, my best friend, my Jean. My one and only sister. You were the first westerner outside of Charles and Erik to show me some kindness. I didn’t really know what to make of that. So I stayed at arms length. I kept my self inside the shell of a deity. I remember how you tried so hard to get inside my head. On the two hour drive to Nairobi International, you tried every half hour. I kept wondering why my brain kept feeling itchy and ticklish. I suppose had I not had natural psi-defenses you would have already been in my head. Could that be considered rude, yes. But I guess you used your telepathy as an extra sense. Hearing, seeing, touching, tasting, smelling, and for you getting people to speak their thoughts. It took me a while to understand that.

A whole forty-seven minutes. We hadn’t even crossed over Lake Victoria before we couldn’t stop blabbing like we’d known each other for years. Verbally and mentally. I think we drove Erik crazy before Charles. I remember thinking, “I don’t have to talk with her. I can save my breath and live a really long life.” That set you into a fit of giggles. Charles too. I remember when you found out why I have natural psi-defenses. Because the weather is empathic to how I feel, I have to control all my emotions. I’ve had an active mutation since I was born, and I could use my powers since I was very little, the psi-blocks just have always been there for me.

Jean, sweety, you were so paranoid when you couldn’t get your telepathy to work the way you wanted it to. I felt so awkward around you sometimes. You reminded me of a really wealthy person who invites someone into their opulent home. Not out of spite or anything. The host is telling the guest to, “make themselves at home.” The guest, having never been in a home like this, doesn’t do anything. So the host is reduced to begging the guest to sit eat and talk. That was us at first. That two hour drive and those first forty seven minutes told me two things about you. One was you were very stubborn. Borderline arrogant, actually. The second was that you would never give up. I loved that about you.





You must login () to review.