Series: Seasons Change
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 #1, "Always Something There to Remind Me", pt. 1
Long Island, NY
June 11th, 2004…
The black limousine pulled away from the ferry drop off slowly and eventually picked up speed as it headed toward the Hamptons. The smooth ride was even further quieted since there was but a solitary figure in the cab.
Ororo Munroe sat rigidly in the middle of the limo’s rear cab, her eyes downcast and forlorn as she watched the terrain pass outside. Unconsciously she chewed her lip, as her fingers grasped a cluster of papers decorated lightly around the edges. She hadn’t looked at the stationary for almost a week, but she’d already memorized their contents from a single read…
May 5th, 2004
“My Dear Ororo,
First, please accept Charles’ most sincere apologies. It seems as though even the most relaxing of tasks sometimes saps his quickly depleted energy, but he wished for me to relay to you it was not his intent to have me pen this letter. As you can well imagine, it has been extremely difficult for him to have to rely so much on others”even me. But, enough of that. I’m sure you were not expecting to open this letter to read about how stubborn your father can be, so I will get to the point with no further delay.
As you know, the annual Xavier Institute and family reunion is quickly approaching this year, and normally Charles would be sending out his laboriously hand-written invitations, as he was able to do last summer.
Unfortunately, Charles’ health has not been at its best, as I understand you know, and after a bevy of tests and procedures, your brother Henry believes he knows the primary cause. Moira has conferred with him on several occasions, for a 2nd opinion, I assume, and seems to be in agreement with Hank’s initial prognosis.
I deeply regret both the nature of this letter as well as the fact that Charles does not wish for me to go into specifics; he hopes you understand that”upon your arrival to the estate”he will make these issues clear and answer any questions/concerns he’s sure you are to have.
Please do not be alarmed at the vagueness of my letter; Charles wished to keep you apprised of everything in his life, but unfortunately his poor health of late has prevented this. Rest assured, he would rather see you and speak in person, and is quite excited about this year’s Reunion, as it represents the 10th anniversary of our special little familial gatherings.
Hence, it is imperative that you are able to attend this year’s festivities. While I realize your extensive schedule at the School occupies a great deal of your time, I sincerely ask that you please make arrangements to see your father this year at the reunion.
Charles sends his warmest regards and we both look forward to your arrival.
Best Wishes & I shall see you soon,
Erik.”
Sighing deeply, Ororo suddenly folded the pages of stationary neatly together, and jammed them back into the envelope clearly stamped with the Xavier Institute logo. Even with them physically out of touch, Erik Lehnsherr’s words still reverberated through her mind. The funny thing was she hadn’t needed those cryptic words to begin to clue her in that something wasn’t quite right with Charles Xavier. The weekly phone calls she’d enjoyed from the only man she could recall as a father had silently drifted away, becoming farther and farther apart, and when they did manage to catch each other, it usually wasn’t for very long, as Charles seemed to tire quickly these days.
Of course, ‘Ro had chalked it all up to the insurmountable stress he endured, from his duties over The Institute and establishing the new school in Massachusetts to the frequent trips he made to Genosha, where he’d picked up his mantle of U.N. Ambassador and liaison once again to try to help the suffering people there. It was reasonable, she consoled herself, that a man her father’s age would not be able to keep that hectic pace for long.
So, it had come as some surprise those few months ago, when he’d contacted her, and eventually got around to mentioning the bevy of tests and procedures her adopted brother and Charles’ doctor Henry McCoy had planned. With Ororo’s frantic schedule at The Masters School”what with finals and end of the term paperwork weighing her down”it was too easy to allow her own problems to smother her, and so the follow-up on her dad went unchecked for several weeks.
Smoothing a thick lock of cloud-colored hair out of her eyes, Ororo silently admitted to herself that there was more than a chance she could’ve distanced herself purposely…after all, Charles Xavier was everything to her; father, mentor, friend, confidant. His face was the earliest memory she could recall, from that traumatic experience she suffered at the tender age of five…
Blinking rapidly, Ororo shook her head vigorously to clear it, feeling the subtle skip in her heartbeat and the tightness in her throat. The claustrophobic symptoms were, often times, all that remained of her memories from the day her birth parents died in Cairo, Egypt. Several times in her youth she had pleaded with Charles, begging him to use his formidable mental prowess to peel back the layers of her fragile mind, and expose the memory her own mind refused to recall, but couldn’t allow Ororo to escape. Each time, Charles gently let her down, insisting it was up to her to divulge that memory. He refused to use his telepathic abilities in such an invasive manner, especially on a mind such as hers. He couldn’t be sure how her emotional state would be affected, and since her own mutant abilities are so very closely linked to them, firmly decided against it.
For awhile, the decision had been such a bone of contention between father and daughter, until Ororo realized the truth of Xavier’s words, and decided to stop pursuing a painful memory of an event she couldn’t possibly hope to alter.
But that was years ago. Ororo was past all that, and realized how thankful she truly was for the life she could remember. The adopted siblings she cherished as deeply as she loved Charles. The need for a “traditional” family with parents and siblings who physically resembled her was quickly replaced with a thankful heart. There were many, many young mutants in the world at that very moment, who would never in their young, short and painful existences know even a small portion of the comfort, stability or love Ororo had received from Charles and the assorted flavors that represented the Xavier family. The first time Charles had taken her to Genosha, she’d realized this…
“Miss? We’re coming up on the estate momentarily.”
Ororo’s head snapped up in attention and she jumped slightly at the driver’s voice through the intercom. Leaning to her left, she laid a finger on the reply button, pressing gently. “Thank you, Martin.”
Once again in silence, ‘Ro settled back against the firm, leather interior, hugging herself tightly for a moment. The slight butterflies fluttering around her belly were enough of a distraction; she could stop focusing on what it was Charles needed to see her for to tell her. The anxious feeling she’d been nursing since boarding the ferry to Long Isl. had very little to do with that, after all.
Almost against her will, Ororo reached down into her carry-on case for the slightly plump bundle of unopened letters she’d hastily stacked and bound together with a large rubber band. For more than a year now, she’d withstood the urge to see what they contained, firmly believing in the adage of ‘out of sight, out of mind’. For some reason (that she rather not consider too deeply) she was unable to simply throw them away. The still-crisp edges of the pale blue envelopes winked at her devilishly, as if they could gauge her curiosity. ‘Ro cast a disapproving glance at them, scowling at the silent reminder of the person they represented.
‘It’s alright, ’Ro,’ she told herself, stuffing the bundle in her windbreaker’s pocket and hardening herself against the memories those unopened letters conjured, ‘Soon enough, he can have them back, and it’ll be all over with. If he can’t move on, then you’ll just have to leave him behind, won’t you?’
About 30 Minutes Later…
Martin the chauffer smoothly brought the car to a stop at the front of the beachside estate, and scrambled around to the back where Ororo thanked him for opening her door. As he began unloading her luggage, a few of the servants came down from the house to help with her things. She didn’t question how they knew she’d arrived, as she stepped away from the car and glanced up the slight incline to the front porch entrance.
Behind her dark sunglasses, her eyes brightened at the sight of Erik Lehnsherr, who stood beside one of the Romanesque columns supporting the porch. He easily returned her smile, and then suddenly twisted his head back toward the opened front door as if he’d heard his name called. After several seconds, Charles Xavier appeared, stroking the wheels on his chair as he pushed himself forward. His clear blue eyes sparkled when they met hers, and he seemed visibly more relaxed just at the sight of her.
“It’s good to see you again, Ororo.” Erik reached down, taking her free hand to help her up the steps. She smiled graciously, dropping the carry-on and hugging him to her tightly.
“Likewise, Erik.” She pushed her sunglasses up onto her forehead, and turned to Xavier, who was patiently waiting his turn.
Charles gazed up at his daughter with a father’s love, watching her as she crossed the couple of feet distancing them and knelt before his chair, which put her eye level just below his.
The two leaned closer, till their foreheads just met, and Ororo closed her eyes with a soft sigh when she felt his soothing presence beside her, in her mind. *Have a good trip?*
She nodded just barely, her eyes closed but she still smiled. *Mm. It was a pleasant ride over. I haven’t taken the ferry in some time.*
*Good, good. Your siblings are already here, so I thought we could have dinner together, tonight…*
*…Just like we used to.* Her thoughts overlapped his, and they could hear each other’s chuckle echo in their heads.
‘Ro slipped her arms around his torso, hugging him tightly as she buried her face against his chest. Charles stroked her long bound ponytail of silk-white hair, and lightly laid a kiss to the crown of her head. *Welcome Home.*
A Short While Later, as the hired help continued their daunting tasks of preparing the night’s meal, Ororo settled into the top floor room she’d favored as a young girl. It was one of the larger rooms in the house, with an impressive balcony that faced the Atlantic.
She hurried to unpack her belongings, thinking that she’d go find Charles before dinner. The letter Erik had written her only a couple of months before still lingered in the back of her mind, and she was curious as to what he’d seemingly wanted to say, but felt restrained not to divulge.
Before she could focus too much on that train of thought, a light knock sounded at the door a la “shave and a hair cut”, disrupting her. Ororo stood up from the sitting position she’d held before the large armoire in the room, and stretched on her way to the door. “Hold on…”
Bright green eyes twinkled beneath dark auburn and white locks, and ‘Ro returned the wicked grin as Marie Darkholme leaned in to carefully give her a hug. The two women chuckled and ‘Ro pulled Marie’s arm, leading her inside before she shut the door. “Well, shit-in-chitlins, you came!”
“Yeah, I guess I could manage to make it this time.” Ororo returned to her unpacking as the energetic southern belle made a bee-line for the bed, pouncing on the soft mattress before stretching out completely. She ignored ‘Ro’s snickers as she made herself comfortable like a feline.
“You just gettin’ here?”
Ororo nodded, continuing to unpack. “Yes. Just a little while ago, actually. I’m trying to finish this unpacking before dinner.”
Marie sat up, shaking her long bangs out of her eyes. She fixed ‘Ro’s back with a wry grin. “Aintcha glad we don’t have t’bother with those chores anymore?”
“More than I’ll ever let on.” ‘Ro responded with a short laugh, recalling the daily tasks at the Institute that accompanied their studies. “Speaking of school, how’s it going?”
Marie shrugged, sitting up enough to support herself on one elbow. “Ugh. Why didn’t you tell me Grad School was gonna suck so hard?? Shit, if I have to come up with one more damn thesis, I’mma take a glove off and touch somebody.”
‘Ro couldn’t help the burst of laughter that erupted from her. “Marie!” She chastised, trying not to continue laughing, but failing miserably. As she eventually sobered, she was glad to see her young sister had come to terms with her mutation enough to joke about it. Marie was still working hard with Charles to control her God-given ability to sap the life-force and energy of others. She’d managed to achieve a limited amount of control, but not enough so that she could freely move about without the long sleeves and/or gloves. Still, it was a great achievement, and the 24 year old Grad Student wasn’t about to give up hope of one day completely controlling her formidable power.
“What??” The younger woman rolled onto her belly, giving her sister what was supposed to pass for an innocent expression.
“You are just horrible.” Ororo laughed, getting up with a precarious armful of toiletries and heading for her bathroom. While she arranged her things just to her liking, she raised her voice so Marie could still hear. “Oh! I got your last video mail, by the way. I hate to be the voice of ‘I told you so’, but didn’t I warn you about trusting that Swamp Rat?”
Marie grunted, distracted, as she came over to the armoire where ‘Ro’s bags littered the floor. She gave herself a once-over in the vanity’s mirror beside the armoire, fixing her hair. “Yeah, yeah, yeah…”
“Don’t you ‘yeah, yeah’ me…”
“Big Sis was right, okay? It’s not like ah didn’t know the Boy was incapable ‘a commitment. Ah jus’ thought he’d try a lit’l harder with me, is all…” Marie’s voice trailed off as she caught sight of the fat left pocket on ‘Ro’s windbreaker. She didn’t hesitate to lift the garment off of its resting place on the vanity’s chair, and reach one manicured hand inside.
From the bathroom, ‘Ro could be heard ‘tsk’ing several times. “Girl, what’d I tell you? I’ve known Remy longer than anyone. The guy’s been one of my best friends for years, and I love him like the rotten little brother he pretends to be, but boyfriend-material, sadly, he is not.”
“Hm-hmm.” Marie half-responded, unbinding the thick packet of letters and sifting through them one at a time, her beautiful green eyes widening with each one.
Still inside the bathroom, ‘Ro was finishing straightening her things and about to come out for the rest. As she visually inspected the room to her satisfaction, she called out, “Do you know where he’s run off to, this time? I ought to give that boy a lightning bolt to sit on, treating my sister like that…Marie? Marie??”
As Ororo came to the door of the bathroom, Marie suddenly appeared right before her, waving the letters before ‘Ro’s nose. “An’ just when were you gonna tell me ‘bout these? Hm??”
On instinct, Ororo grabbed the envelopes, but Marie wasn’t about to let them”or the subject”go. “What are you doing with those??”
“Answer the Q, ‘Ro. How long have ya had these? Looks like the guy’s been writin’ ya every friggin’ month for the past two damn years”“
“I didn’t mention it,” Ororo yanked the envelopes toward her, “because it’s not important. Come on, Marie. Hand them over.”
Shrugging, the younger sister let the other possess the letters, but she clearly wasn’t done with the topic. As Ororo headed back to replace them in the windbreaker, Marie followed, a darkly humorous twinkle in her eye. “’It’s not Important’..! Hrmph. And don’t think ah didn’t notice none o’ em were opened. Yer not even curious??”
“Absolutely not.” Ororo lied.
“Damn, you can hold a grudge, Sugah.”
“I am not holding a grudge.” ‘Ro roughly crammed them in the jacket, crumpling a few of the envelopes in the process. She turned back to gauge Marie with cool blue eyes. “I’d have to actually still give a shit, first.”
Crossing her arms tightly, Marie looked at her sister hard. She knew when Ororo started using swear words that she was at least slightly rumpled. “Ya know, Dad invited His Father over tonight for dinner.”
Picking through for the rest of her toiletries, Ororo nodded nonchalantly. “Of course. I plan on returning those letters through Him.”
“Oh, don’t bother…” Ororo’s hands froze, as Marie’s chipper tone continued, “Your former Prince Charming is comin’ too.”
About 4 miles away, farther down the beach…
The big black and silver-accented Crown Victoria was parked at an odd angle in front of the large beach house. The man in the driver’s seat drummed his fingers methodically, and every 90 seconds or so checked his watch. ‘It shouldn’t be taking this long…’
As the man shifted in his car seat uncomfortably, a single figure stood outside the darkened house’s back door, which faced the pristine Southampton beach. Clutching the thick wad of folded legal brief in one hand, the woman raised her fist again and rapped on the door, much harder than the first dozen times. After still receiving no answer, she grimaced, then quickly looked around herself, ensuring no one was watching, and brought her free hand up to her temple, concentrating. In the few moments of silence, the breeze blowing off the ocean waved her shoulder-length fiery red locks, then allowed them to come to rest over the carefully pressed lapels of her suit jacket. It was enough time to discern what she’d needed to know, and with only another half second’s pause, she dug her key ring out of her pocket, and sifted through the dozen or so keys on it before she found the one she sought. *Alright, then, if you’re going to make things difficult, so be it.* She broadcast her thoughts, as she opened the door and stepped inside the small rear foyer between the back porch and kitchen.
As she came into the kitchen, she noticed the lights were all out, and the late afternoon shadows cast an even more unsettling feeling around the seemingly quiet abode. With saddened yet determined eyes, she looked around at the squalor her ex-husband was living in; dirty dishes at least a couple weeks old littered the sinks and counters, smelling horribly; the cabinets and drawers had mostly all been pulled out and emptied of their contents, and all kinds of trash littered the floor, making it all but impossible to take two consecutive steps without hitting something. All at once she was unsure whether or not she wanted to see the rest of the once-beautiful summer home she’d been so glad to retreat to. The kitchen alone looked like a war zone, so she could only imagine what the rest looked like.
Pausing by the island counter in the middle of the formerly impressive kitchen, she carefully picked up the jagged remains of a glass picture frame. As she lifted it up and turned it toward her face, pieces of glass tinkled to the floor at her feet, where she didn’t notice the slashed remains of other photographs. Her lovely green eyes widened as she recognized the photo. Even though it had suffered through quite a beating (and maybe even a little fire?) she could still make out her own face smiling back at her, as she held onto her ex-husband and the giggling little ball of energy between them.
“Ohh…Logan…”
She fought the tightness in her throat at seeing the image, and carefully laid the battered picture and frame on the cluttered counter. For a long moment, she just stood there, as a gamut of emotions fueled by memories washed over her. As she closed her eyes, she could almost hear the childish laughter and squeals of joy that had filled the house not so long ago, before everything went so totally wrong. It was these memories of an innocent, beautiful young life that kept her going at times. She refused to let them sadden her; it wouldn’t be right to Amahra’s memory. If only Logan could feel the same way…
Taking a heavy breath, she opened her eyes.
“What’re you doin’ in here?”
She gasped, despite herself, and wondered how he’d managed to creep so silently into the messy room. That thought was quickly forgotten, however, as she peered closely at her ex. His physical appearance matched that of the room they stood in, his usually already wild hair reaching new and disturbing levels of disorder and appearing as though it hadn’t seen soap and water in a while. The grungy (off) white tank-tee he wore was tattered and beaten as the man himself. He’d had to tighten the drawstring on the dark charcoal sweatpants, but they were still sort of slack on his narrow hips, which told her despite the mess of the kitchen, he hadn’t eaten properly in some time. She saw all this in a matter of moments, but kept her gaze from meeting his.
“Logan, this pl”“
“I said, What’re you doin’ in here??” His voice was an even tone, and only she would know to have fear of it.
Forcing herself to swallow (damn, her throat was dry) she reached for the picture again, but her delicate fingers halted abruptly when she heard the low growl from across the room. Still refusing to meet his eyes, she hesitated, then reached for the papers she’d brought instead, which were tucked underneath her other arm. “I, uh, came to give you this. I didn’t see the point in subjecting anymore paralegals to your abuse, so I came myself.”
His strained, wild eyes locked on the blue-backed legal document she held out, then up at her face, which was still turned away. “What’s that?” He gritted out roughly between clenched teeth.
Still holding her arm out, she said, “This, Logan, is It. The End. You can stay here and self-destruct in this dilapidated house for as long as you want; I just can’t stand by and watch any longer. I won’t.”
When he still refused to take the papers, she lightly tossed it between them on the counter. His stormy grey eyes twitched between her and those papers, as she looked anywhere but at him. “So, that’s it, eh Doc? Couldn’t “fix” me, so yer givin’ up fer good, just like that?”
She stared at him, wide eyed, and truly thought he’d lost his mind. “I guess you’ve conveniently forgotten about the past eight years, Logan, and that you’ve wanted an end to This just as long as I have. Not to mention the fact that I’ve been the only”“ She stopped, realizing this argument was exactly what he wanted, and took a calming breath before she changed her tactics. “You know what? I’m not doing this again. I’ve come to accept my role in all this; I suggest you do the same, so you can begin to move on.”
“Move on??” His tone was suddenly caustic and she was sure if he could’ve burned her with it, he would have. The anger behind his words would’ve struck her like a physical blow, if she hadn’t already had a few psi-shields erected.
Thinking to dissipate his quickly escalating rage, she began to turn, to reason with him, when she noticed out of the corner of her eye that his posture had changed drastically. “L-Logan”“
She began backing away, back toward the way she’d come, and he quickly advanced on her, roughly over-turning chairs and boxes in his path. “Move ON?! MOVE ON?!!”
She realized she had backed out of the kitchen to the foyer, when her back struck the wall next to the door, and before she could turn toward it, with the door opened just barely, he was there, slamming it back against the frame so hard she thought it would bend back through.
“How The Hell Am I Supposed To Do That??!! Huh?!!” His alcohol-stained breath blew her hair away from her face as he screamed at her.
She grimaced, closing her eyes tightly through the tirade. She didn’t want to have to hurt him, but if Logan didn’t calm himself”or at the least give her a couple of feet of personal space”she’d be forced to defend herself. “Logan, calm down--!”
“Well?? What’s the answer, Doctor Grey?! You thought you were so damned smart to “fix” what was “wrong” with me”“
“STOP it!” She turned her face to him, for the first time meeting his gaze. Her heart was immediately crushed, as she recognized those pain-filled silver eyes that had always reminded her so much of their daughter. “Logan…!Stop…just stop...!”
He watched her slowly slide down to the floor, tears coursing down her cheeks. Even then, he could feel nothing but rage, contempt, and distrust. Backing a step away, he continued to breathe shallowly as he seethed with hatred. He knew deep (deep, deep) down that it couldn’t be her he hated. True, their marriage had effectively been over long before Amahra got sick that last time, but even then he’d willingly agreed to stay together, as their only child fought for every breath she took, slowly dying…killed by her own father…
“Jean…” His voice was barely above a whisper as he fixed his gaze on her once more. “Just leave. Just…”
She choked back her tears, as silence reigned between them. Standing on unsteady legs, she hesitated a moment, looking at his defeated posture.
He didn’t look at her as she fumbled with her coat, then his eyes fluttered closed when he heard the soft clink of her house key hit the table before she turned and disappeared. As the silence came again, he sighed, looking at the island counter. Dismissively he flipped open the legal, and nodded, not surprised at all. That made sense, why all those little pencil-necked jerk-offs had kept coming by all those months, insisting he open the door. Logan wasn't ashamed to admit he’d taken some perverse pleasure in scaring the daylights out of them, and was exceptionally…proud?...when one of them”most likely a newbie, poor kid”had literally pissed himself at the sight of six adamantium-laced claws before his bifocals.
Even that was but a small consolation to the black, smothering feeling that seemingly occupied his every waking moment. With a heavy sigh, he tossed the official document terminating his marriage over his shoulder to land on the floor with the rest of his shattered life, and left the room.
Out at the Road, Jean hurried back to the car waiting for her, and slide inside, rubbing at her bleary eyes. As she buckled herself in, the man beside her leaned forward, catching a glimpse of her agitated state. “Jean? What happened?? Are you alright?”
“I’m fine”“
“That bastard didn’t hurt you, did he?? I swear”“
“I said I’m fine!” She snapped, more harshly than intended, then said softly, “Please, Warren, just drive.”
He clamped his mouth shut, and put the car in gear, pulling away from the curb. Beside him, Jean leaned into the door of the car, her red-rimmed eyes staring hard at the rear view mirror’s reflection of the quickly retreating beach house. She couldn’t help but think she was abandoning the man she’d once sworn vows to, and in his deepest hour of need.
“Come on, Jean,” Warren grasped her hand tightly, and
as if reading her mind continued, “You can’t help someone who doesn’t want it.”
“I know.” Was all she said quietly, not sure if she believed it even as the words escaped her lips. Swallowing a sob, she sighed deeply, thinking, ‘God help him, I know.’
TBC in Chapter 2, “Always Something There to Remind Me”, Part 2
Spoiler: Next Chap., We finally get to meet ‘Ro’s mystery man from the Past! (And what’s up w/ Xavier??)
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