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tamingthemuseTitle: The Storm's Cry
Author: Kat Lee
Fandom: X-Men
Character/Pairing: Storm, Professor X, Nightcrawler
Rating: PG-13/T
Challenge: #446: Foreshadow
Warning(s): Mild Spoilers (Pretty much, as long as you know anything about Kurt's and Charles' current statuses in the comics, you should be good.)
Word Count: 1,148
Summary:
Disclaimer: All characters within belong to Marvel Comics and Disney, not the author, and are used without permission.
She walks through the halls, a slowly rising breeze like the ones that precede the worst storms quietly warning others, faculty and students alike, to stay away. This is a new school. It is a meant to be a safe haven for them all. He has never been here, and yet his presence still seems, to her, to foreshadow everything. She can feel him in every hallway, in every classroom, in every room almost as vividly as she did in the old school. He is everywhere she goes and in everything she does, and yet, they laid him to rest more than a year ago.
Unshed tears glimmer in her royal, blue eyes as the falling rain outside beats a soft pattern on the windows. How is it, she wonders, that the man still manages to reach them, to affect them, even after all this time beyond the grave? Charles Xavier was far from a saint. She did many things over their years together of which she was not proud, and his darkness quite nearly destroyed the entire world.
But he was still there for them. In everything they did, in every good and wrong deed, in every mistake and triumph, he was there, always there for them, the motley crew of mutants he assembled from across the world. There was never any doubt between them that he considered them to be much more than his pupils. They were the children he never had, and he was far closer to being her father than what little she can remember of the man who actually helped to give birth to her.
Thunder cries in the distance as she continues to float through the new school. There are eyes upon her, voices whispering. She doesn't care. She can feel him so strongly today. If she closes her eyes, she can almost see him standing behind her, beside her, or to her front. She can almost touch him. Her tears begin to slip slowly down her face. She can almost hear him.
He was the first man, after her parents, to change her life in a good way. He was the first man to truly believe in her, the first to give her a chance to leave behind the wicked ways she'd come to feel were necessary to survive as a child in her mother country. He gave her so much, and yet, in the end, when he needed her the most, she failed him. Lightning cuts jagged and cruel fingers through the darkening sky.
She's closed her eyes against her tears while gliding. She's closed her eyes so that none can see her tears and so she can not see that he is not truly there with them. He is there in her spirit, in embodiment. He is there in everything they do, in every life they save, every heart they touch. He is there. After all, how can he not be when there never would have been an X-Men team in the beginning if not for him, let alone the vast number of teams of mutants fighting for the dream he began so many years ago?
He is there in all they do, in all they believe. He is there, but she can not reach him. She can not touch him. She can not see him smile one last time, only see the look of horror, sorrow, and utter disappointment he felt when he realized Scott, one of his favorites and the one closest like his son, was going to kill him. She has lost so many friends, but it is his loss which she feels the strongest out of them all.
She wonders if they are together. Can Jean touch him, hold him, as she longs to do? Does he know how much he is missed, how greatly he is needed? And yet she can almost hear him now, telling her he is not needed, not really, not truly, telling her that she has come so far. She can do this. She can lead this latest group of young mutants, of students, to shape the world and save their lives. She can protect them. She can save them without him, without Logan. She can teach them what it means to be an X-Man and why they should dedicate their lives to his cause, to their cause, as she has. She can train them. She can lead them. She can be their protege.
But she can never be as good as he was. She wonders still how he did it in the sixties, how he found them all (although that, she knows, was the easy part with Cerebro's help), how he reached them all, how he shaped them not just into a team but into a family. The wind cries for the man who's been gone from them now for two years as silently, its mistress' heart sobs for the same reason, the same man, the same father figure who gave her so much while, in truth, asking not all that much and certainly nothing much more than she was willing to give.
Yes, she didn't agree with all of his decisions or commands. No daughter ever does fully agree with her father on everything, no matter how devoted or loved. There are things she wishes she could have done differently, words she yearns to be able to take back, decisions she would have changed. But in the end, she still loves him, and there's only one thing she would change. She would have him back with them now. She would never have allowed him to be taken, let alone killed by his own son of sorts, by her brother in a way. She knows Charles forgave Scott, but she knows, too, that neither he or any of them will ever be able to forgive him.
She presses her lips together. Thunder rattles the school. Whispers rise with the wind. Some one steps into her path, and Ororo opens her eyes to see Kurt standing there and looking at her calmly. His tail curls around his left leg, but his yellow eyes meet her blue orbs calmly and with as much patience as Charles ever possessed.
"I miss him too, liebchen," he tells her, "but he is happy now in Heaven." His tail's blade twitches, hinting that even though Charles is happy to be there, he is no happier than she that he is there instead of being with them.
"You saw him?"
"Ja. He is at peace," he offers quietly.
The storm builds. He opens his blue, furry arms, and she goes into them without hesitation. He bamfs them to her room, and there he holds her as she cries. The dying isn't the hard part of grief, they both know. The hardest is living without those you love, those who marked your life for the better and forever.
The End
Author: Kat Lee
Fandom: X-Men
Character/Pairing: Storm, Professor X, Nightcrawler
Rating: PG-13/T
Challenge: #446: Foreshadow
Warning(s): Mild Spoilers (Pretty much, as long as you know anything about Kurt's and Charles' current statuses in the comics, you should be good.)
Word Count: 1,148
Summary:
Disclaimer: All characters within belong to Marvel Comics and Disney, not the author, and are used without permission.
She walks through the halls, a slowly rising breeze like the ones that precede the worst storms quietly warning others, faculty and students alike, to stay away. This is a new school. It is a meant to be a safe haven for them all. He has never been here, and yet his presence still seems, to her, to foreshadow everything. She can feel him in every hallway, in every classroom, in every room almost as vividly as she did in the old school. He is everywhere she goes and in everything she does, and yet, they laid him to rest more than a year ago.
Unshed tears glimmer in her royal, blue eyes as the falling rain outside beats a soft pattern on the windows. How is it, she wonders, that the man still manages to reach them, to affect them, even after all this time beyond the grave? Charles Xavier was far from a saint. She did many things over their years together of which she was not proud, and his darkness quite nearly destroyed the entire world.
But he was still there for them. In everything they did, in every good and wrong deed, in every mistake and triumph, he was there, always there for them, the motley crew of mutants he assembled from across the world. There was never any doubt between them that he considered them to be much more than his pupils. They were the children he never had, and he was far closer to being her father than what little she can remember of the man who actually helped to give birth to her.
Thunder cries in the distance as she continues to float through the new school. There are eyes upon her, voices whispering. She doesn't care. She can feel him so strongly today. If she closes her eyes, she can almost see him standing behind her, beside her, or to her front. She can almost touch him. Her tears begin to slip slowly down her face. She can almost hear him.
He was the first man, after her parents, to change her life in a good way. He was the first man to truly believe in her, the first to give her a chance to leave behind the wicked ways she'd come to feel were necessary to survive as a child in her mother country. He gave her so much, and yet, in the end, when he needed her the most, she failed him. Lightning cuts jagged and cruel fingers through the darkening sky.
She's closed her eyes against her tears while gliding. She's closed her eyes so that none can see her tears and so she can not see that he is not truly there with them. He is there in her spirit, in embodiment. He is there in everything they do, in every life they save, every heart they touch. He is there. After all, how can he not be when there never would have been an X-Men team in the beginning if not for him, let alone the vast number of teams of mutants fighting for the dream he began so many years ago?
He is there in all they do, in all they believe. He is there, but she can not reach him. She can not touch him. She can not see him smile one last time, only see the look of horror, sorrow, and utter disappointment he felt when he realized Scott, one of his favorites and the one closest like his son, was going to kill him. She has lost so many friends, but it is his loss which she feels the strongest out of them all.
She wonders if they are together. Can Jean touch him, hold him, as she longs to do? Does he know how much he is missed, how greatly he is needed? And yet she can almost hear him now, telling her he is not needed, not really, not truly, telling her that she has come so far. She can do this. She can lead this latest group of young mutants, of students, to shape the world and save their lives. She can protect them. She can save them without him, without Logan. She can teach them what it means to be an X-Man and why they should dedicate their lives to his cause, to their cause, as she has. She can train them. She can lead them. She can be their protege.
But she can never be as good as he was. She wonders still how he did it in the sixties, how he found them all (although that, she knows, was the easy part with Cerebro's help), how he reached them all, how he shaped them not just into a team but into a family. The wind cries for the man who's been gone from them now for two years as silently, its mistress' heart sobs for the same reason, the same man, the same father figure who gave her so much while, in truth, asking not all that much and certainly nothing much more than she was willing to give.
Yes, she didn't agree with all of his decisions or commands. No daughter ever does fully agree with her father on everything, no matter how devoted or loved. There are things she wishes she could have done differently, words she yearns to be able to take back, decisions she would have changed. But in the end, she still loves him, and there's only one thing she would change. She would have him back with them now. She would never have allowed him to be taken, let alone killed by his own son of sorts, by her brother in a way. She knows Charles forgave Scott, but she knows, too, that neither he or any of them will ever be able to forgive him.
She presses her lips together. Thunder rattles the school. Whispers rise with the wind. Some one steps into her path, and Ororo opens her eyes to see Kurt standing there and looking at her calmly. His tail curls around his left leg, but his yellow eyes meet her blue orbs calmly and with as much patience as Charles ever possessed.
"I miss him too, liebchen," he tells her, "but he is happy now in Heaven." His tail's blade twitches, hinting that even though Charles is happy to be there, he is no happier than she that he is there instead of being with them.
"You saw him?"
"Ja. He is at peace," he offers quietly.
The storm builds. He opens his blue, furry arms, and she goes into them without hesitation. He bamfs them to her room, and there he holds her as she cries. The dying isn't the hard part of grief, they both know. The hardest is living without those you love, those who marked your life for the better and forever.
The End
