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X4 : Divided and Fallen
Chapter One: Broken


Author’s note: *’s are used for telepathic thought and foreign languages. I’m no good with finding language translators or with accents, so there, fair warning.

~Eighteen months after the (fart fest) events of X3.~

Kitty turned off the television and made a half hearted attempt to clean up from movie night. She noticed how people had suspecially began to leave claiming to be tired ten minutes before the movie was over.

Kitty: [mumbles] Little bastards. Happens every damn time.

She turns around from the foyer to pick up more of the spilled popcorn and Chexmix, and doesn’t hear the lone figure come in and laugh softly at her.

Person: They all do that because they know that someone is always there to pickup after them.

Kitty swings around startled and catches her breath.

Kitty: Jesus, Marie. You scared the balls out of me. [looks at her watch] What are you doing coming in this late? In fact…um didn’t you leave?

Marie places the two duffel bags that were in her hands down next to a propped up suitcase with a swivel handle. She looks at the bags and then looks at Kitty with a brow raised.

Marie: What does it look like?

Kitty: So, you’re staying? [She tilts her head because she clearly can’t understand her.]

Marie: [leans comfortably on the wall and crosses her arms over her chest] No Kit-Kat, I just left for Mississippi to get more of my stuff just to leave here, again. [She says with a sarcastic tone].

Kitty looks away and heads towards the kitchen with the empty bowls and left over food. Marie simply stands aside to let her pass. Her eyes narrow at the retreating girls back.

Kitty: I’m glad your back. I was hoping that fight you had with Bobby wasn’t the end all of everything for you.

Maire: [says to herself] Nah, that didn’t mean nothing. Taking the cure for a boy that wouldn’t touch me, now that meant something, dumbass. [Raises her voice] Where’s Ms. Monroe?

Kitty: It’s after midnight, you know she’s asleep. I mean damn, she’s awake at the buttcrack of dawn every damn day. [She looks at Marie with a questionable look. There is obviously something wrong with her.] You ok?

Marie: It’s kinda important. Something happened on the train…

Kitty: Again? Damn girl, you have no luck with those things.

Not even Marie can hold a scowl after that comment. Both girls giggle at that.

Kitty: But seriously, if I were you I’d let it wait till morning, well, late afternoon actually. Ms. Monroe hasn’t been her chipper morning self in while.

The younger girl gets lost in her thoughts and Marie looks to the side.

Marie: Ooo, what about Logan? I really need to tell somebody about this.

Kitty: Logan left.

Marie: What! When? Why? Is he coming back?

Kitty: [Shrugs casually] I dunno. He never says. Marie, what’s wrong. Is it important? Did you meet someone? [Inhales dramatically]

Marie: I guess it can wait. Look, I’ll see ya later. I hope Jubes left the door unlocked.

Marie grabs her suit cases and bags to head up the stairs. Kitty yawns as she missed the other girl scratch at her no longer bare arm.


~Meanwhile in the boy’s dormitories~

Peter tosses and turns in his sleep only to wake up in a cold sweat. He rubs the bridge of his nose and sits up. Something just wasn’t right. He turned to his side to grab a pair of tube socks in his nightstand. The drawer was yanked open a little too hard and the picture above it begins to swing out of control. He catches it just in time and sits it up straight. Even in the dark, he can be seen smiling at the image.

It is him at an airport in front of a window with planes in a foreign language frozen in mid take off. Peter has a large grin on his face with a preteen smiling blond girl hugging his waist.

Peter: [Talking to the picture] This is all your fault you know. [mimics the voice of a young girl] Piotr, try the socks. They’re so comfy and soft. And now I can’t go any where without them. Thanks *little sister*.

He gets up to move to the bathroom uses it but keeps the door open. There’s no need for it, he is the rooms only occupant.

While washing his hands, his phone rings and he rushes to answer it.

[Author’s note: this entire conversation is in Russian]

Caller: Hello, Piotr?

Peter: Illyana?! I was just thinking about you. How are you feeling, better right? How’s the farm? You know how I hated leaving everything, right? I wish I could see you again, and catch up.

Illyana: [laughs but stops suddenly because of a coughing fit] You might do that much sooner than you think.

She smiles hoping that her brother can feel it through the line.

Peter: You know I hate it when you get cryptic. What’s going on? You sound like you haven’t gotten any better. Should I come home?

Illyana: NO! Don’t you dare, Piotr. You are there for us all. [coughs again, sounding worse] Besides, I wont be to far away as of tomorrow.

Peter: What? Your coming here?

Illyana: Not there exactly. They’re taking me to St. Jude’s in Philadelphia. So now I won’t be to far away from you.

Peter: I…I thought you were getting better?

Illyana: How can I get better if they don’t know what’s wrong? Don’t worry, big brother. It’s for outpatient care, unless I’m contagious. [She giggles.]

Peter: Not funny!

Illyana: Alright big guy, I think I should go before this calling card dies. Love you.

Peter: Be well. And remember, magic always makes you smile.

Illyana: It always did. [She hangs up.]

Peter swallows slowly and hangs up. For some reason, he thinks, life could never just be nice and free. There was always a mean edge to it and it always cost something. His sister was coming to the states, hooray! She was coming because of the undiagnosed crazy disease she had come down with could not be treated back home. He shook his head, then made a feeble attempt to go back to sleep.


~Xavier Memorial Gardens~

Rain pelts down in loud heavy torrents, ripping apart the carefully manicured lawn and flowers. It beats mercilessly against the three marble headstones that stand in the center of the lush green field. In front of the headstones stands a woman, totally headless of the rain. Her immaculate clothing was getting soaked. She couldn’t care less. It was made apparent when the bottle of clear liquor in her hand was brought to her lips. Her lock of white hair was tossed to the side with an angry toss of her head.

Ororo: [speaking to the large center headstone that was in front of the other two] What happened to you? Hmm? How could you let it get this bad? You were worried about the future. About your past. About Jean’s problems. I hate to break it to you, but there’s more to life than that. You once told me when I was very small that I should think of myself as more than just what I can do, but how I can help. [She laughs bitterly] Turns out you lied. Big time! You know another reason why you…you stink. The only father figure I constantly remember and you only used my name one in the last two years. Well I’ll have you know that there’s more to me than just cloudy skies. [She laughs bitterly and drinks more while stumbling behind Xavier’s gave to talk to the other two.]

She moves to the headstone that read Jean M. Grey Beloved and Missed.

Ororo: Missed of course you are sweetie. [drinks again, this time tipping her head back for good measure. She takes her arm an unceremoniously wipes her mouth with the back of it.] Beloved, you bet. In fact, you were blessed enough to be beloved by two families. Your blood thought you were still good enough even after you were found to be, “special.” Beloved by two men. I know you loved that. It made you sit up straight, stick your chest out, wear sweaters. Mine in fact. Had a good time did you? I know you did, it made you giggle. The world and everyone in it was ok as long as Jean got to laugh and have a good time. Selfish moron! Do you have any idea what that did to Scott? You should. He had once bragged about that link that you two shared. So I ask you again, “Jeannie” [the nick name is snarled], do you have any idea how Scott suffered in your greedy grab for attention. I hate to be the one to break it to you but there was one other person in your relationship. But then again, you did have a problem with seeing beyond yourself and thinking ahead didn’t you. You get off the plane, worse tactical move ever! There was a trained *team* of people in there fully prepared for something like that. Then there’s your parents, all those people at Alcatraz… Of course there’s an excuse for your brutal genocide. There’s always an excuse for you Jean. You wouldn’t be beloved if there wasn’t. Hell, even I love you. How’s that for irony? [She throws her head back and laughs angrily. She stumbles to the last grave, downs the bottle and collapsed on her knees right in front of the headstone.]

Ororo: Scooty! Where’d you glow? What did I shell you ablout letting tings get to you? You know you lied to me too. Remember when we found out that we were bloth AB-. You said, ‘Hey, we have the same blood. I should adopt you.’ Ha! That day you became my brother, and I was your slister. It was just great. Everybody else had families to talk to for birthdays, holidays, first dates, prom dates. Hank and Jean would always get care packages. Well, you and I had midnight movies. I miss those. I miss helping you with your laundry. You ploor thing you, being color blind and Jean leaving you to your own devices in the laundry room. I think it was the only time I got to see you be Scott without the Cyke.

[She lays down on the graves and makes her self comfortable.]

In a response to the now softly snoring woman, the rain slowly begins to calm and fade away. She wiggles when her cell phone rings. In her dream like state, she could have sworn it rang with the song she had reserved for her brother. She continues to have a restless fit, and the bottle that was her hand rolls away.

Unbeknown to her, brown thick boots stalk their way right up to her. A leather jacket is wrapped around her and her shoulder length hair it pulled out and away from her face. Soft smoke is blown away from her.

Logan walks over to the vodka bottle and picks it up. He shakes his head as he takes it back into the house. When he saw the rain and her the shouting he ran out to the gardens to see if he’s help was needed. Seeing Storm out there by herself, he had turned around to give her time. Even though he had walked away he had heard every word.

Once in the house, he tossed the bottle and headed to the Head Office. He sits in the chair behind the desk and throws his legs on the desk corner making sure he left scuff marks on the desk. He casually flips through the mail until he comes to the last letter, and freezes.

The letter has beautiful script and is addressed to Ororo Monroe, and even though there was no return address the seal on the back read: Eric Lensherr.

Logan: Why the hell is Magneto writing to the school? What the hell is going on?





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