X-Writers is a non-profit making organisation. Several of the characters, places and plots featured in this story are the legal property of Marvel. ---------- Uncanny X-Men #338 Sorrows End Live Forever Part 1 of 3. Written by Andrew Wheeler Thanks to the other X-Writers for their patience and help. ---------- Ororo Munroe: I seem to have woken very late this morning. That is not usual for me. Already the grounds are alive with activity as they prepare for the funeral. It looks like being a beautiful day. Good. I would prefer not to have to interfere, and I could not stand a funeral in the rain. Yesterday was terrible. It did not rain, yet all through Bishop's funeral there was some promise of it in the dark heavy clouds overhead. The ceremony was poorly attended, I think because people believed it would be disrespectful to Charles. Of course, I think they all understand that it was not Bishop's fault. He was a victim, as are we all. Logan was there, of course, as was Pietro, whom I asked to accompany me, and he was good enough to do so. Betsy stood at some distance, and I am quite sure she was weeping. I am not sure who for. Today will be very different. Everyone is in attendance. Xavier made his mistakes, but he was a man worth remembering, and at heart we all know his intentions were the very best. He was a good man. A great man. No-one is beyond making mistakes, after all. I have made more than a few. Trusting Gambit will count as perhaps the greatest of them, for I was the one to bring him into the team even when my every instinct was telling me there was something dark within him. Of course, I thought I was being a good leader. I blindsided my best instincts with ignorant reason. That is not the way of the elements, to ignore the currents and force the winds. I have been a poor mistress to Mother Nature. And yet, nature does not regret, and neither must I. Time is too precious. I should get dressed. I don't even know what I am going to wear. Not black, certainly. I have a dark blue dress that I have not worn recently. Velvet. I think that would appear decent. I wonder where we shall go now. Now that we have decided not to rebuild the mansion again, we X-Men must find a new home. Sleeping down in the basement levels this past week has been tolerable, but it is not a long term solution by any means. I suppose what few X-Men remain under my care could go to other teams. No. Just because we are not rebuilding the mansion it does not mean we should not rebuild the team. Our inspiration is dead, but we are the core, the heart of his dream. We shall continue, just as the others have. We do not need Xavier any more than Excalibur or X-Force do. We all of us owe him the greatest debt, but we will learn to survive without his protection, even in this darkest of times. We have lost not only Charles, but also Bishop, Jean, Gambit and Rogue. Of all of them, only one of them might return, if we can find her. Still, we will persevere. Oh sweet goddess, how could this happen to us? To make things still worse, we now have a new and powerful opponent to deal with. Or an old opponent, if Sinister is to be believed. This Onslaught organisation that has taken Gambit, and that I suspect may have Rogue as well, are potentially the greatest threat we have faced in a long time, especially since we know so little about them. We need to think of a strategy to deal with this new threat. Our common enemy is Apocalypse, yet to contemplate an alliance with either of them is too distasteful. We need to find other ways to build our strength. The bathroom is in use. Why did Charles only have one bathroom installed down here? No matter. I can shower in my room. I see Hank is heading above ground. He is wearing a very fine suit, but underneath it he is still wearing bandages, and beneath the bandages he still has burns. Poor Hank. I am lucky to have emerged from the siege of the mansion relatively unscathed. My room is quiet and empty. My belongings are in storage. The past is a closed chapter now, and I will take what I have learned and move on with it, and I will face the future as best I can. - - - - We must pass like smoke or live forever in the spirit's fire; For we can no more than smoke unto the flame return If our thought has changed to dream, our will unto desire, As smoke we vanish though the fire may burn. - - - - Henry McCoy: Ororo is having a late start this morning. I hope she is not too troubled. With Charles gone, Magneto disabled and Scott deep in mourning she is the one most of them will have to turn to for focus. Apart from yours truly of course, and I have other plans. Which reminds me, I am late for my meeting with Alice at the boathouse. I seem to have made a detour, though. Somehow, without meaning to, I have ended up here, at the graveside of Illyana Rasputin. She was, as far as both Charles and myself were concerned, the first victim of Legacy. I remember signing the death certificate myself. Now she is back from the dead, or some version of her is, though I shan't believe it until I see it with my own baby blue eyes. She has defeated death, perhaps, but even she could not defeat Legacy. Only one man has done that, and his cure would kill any other person. We are no closer. I would like to think of Illyana's resurrection as a good omen, but of course I don't believe in omens, and I know it doesn't really mean a thing. To the cure, I mean. To the people who loved her I'm sure it means the world. I suppose that also includes myself, though I only really got to know her well as the innocent child who spoke no word of English. I wonder what she is like now? It was with Charles that I started the fight against Legacy. I think I may be a little frightened to carry it on without him. Or I may be a little relieved. He was a dominating figure, he would always double check my observations as if he were still my teacher. Now I can study more freely, and yet I can't help but wish he were still there to be my safety net. Now everyone will think that I am the leading authority. Oh dear. The time has come to start focusing our efforts. I have spoken with Moira and she is in concordance with my wishes. Of course, she was easy to persuade. I fear if we do not find a cure Moira will be the next to follow Charles into death. Perhaps they will prove better company for one another in death than they could ever be in life. Or perhaps death is simple oblivion, and all their hopes and dreams are done. Well since when did I become so maudlin? Come come, McCoy, you know full well that it is your job to be the eternal optimist. Bouncing. Blue by colour, not by nature. Besides, I see Alice up ahead and she's very uncomfortable with depression. She seems to be in the company of Dr Majcomb. I didn't realise she was coming to the funeral. I assume this means the Genoshan authorities are easing up on her freedom of movement. Or she's got better at faking a passport. They are waving at me, so I had better wave back. Ah, now this is a reason to be cheerful; to know there are people in this world willing to dedicate their lives to helping others. Saving the world. Which, I suppose, is what Charles was all about. - - - - Under the wide and starry sky Dig the grave and let me lie. Glad did I live and gladly die, And I laid me down with a will. This be the verse you grave for me: "Here he lies where he longed to be; Home is the sailor, home from sea, And the hunter home from the hill." - - - - Emma Frost: I think I am going to scream. I thought taking one of these rowing boats and coming out here onto the lake would give me a chance to get away from all the remorse and guilt and angst, to cut myself off from the noise of the rabble, but no, Sean insisted on coming along too, damn him. At least it saves me the trouble of rowing, but still, I think I would gladly make that sacrifice if it meant I didn't have to listen to him going on all the time. The whole point of coming out here was to get a chance to clear my head, but instead he seems intent on lecturing me on our new responsibilities now Charles Xavier is dead; on how essential it is to do this, on how we must never forget to do that, and so on ad infinitum. Thank you Sean, but I have been doing this longer than you have, and I think I may have a handle on things by now. He's blowing all of this out of proportion anyway. So what if Xavier is dead? That's the least of the evils of the world from which the children needed protecting. My operations were never dependent on Charles Xavier, my intentions didn't spring from his dream. He was the enemy. In fact, I should be glad he's dead. He wasn't such a great man, and this leaves the future in more capable hands. My hands. Without interference. Oh. Well, there's Sean of course, but he hardly counts. He is agreeable to my wishes, and he can be made amenable to my methods. Whatever it takes, we must ensure a solid future for the next generation. We can't have them screwing it up like the last one. We have to teach them to protect themselves above all else. We have to make them strong. Stronger. Because the Hellions failed. No, because I failed the Hellions. I did not take them far enough, I did not give them everything I could. They did not survive as Sam Guthrie, Kitty Pryde, Danielle Moonstar and the others have done. Oh no. Oh God! Xavier. That bastard! Where I failed, he succeeded. Where I have outlived my students, his have outlived him. What if I fail again? What if I have not learnt my lessons, and I am to repeat the same mistakes? What if my children die again? No, I must not think like that. Xavier is dead and I cannot change that, but I suppose I can learn a lesson or two from him. Damn him. The priority must be the children, and I must learn to sacrifice my pride. I must even learn to listen to Sean. Sometimes. Maybe. In the meantime, he had better take me back to shore or we shall miss the funeral. But then I suppose he is organising the whole affair, so they can hardly start without him. I hope I haven't creased my dress sitting in this stupid rowing boat. - - - - The greed for property Heaps a skyscraper over the breathing ribs: The speedlines of dictators Cut their own stalks: From afar, we watch the best of us - Whose adored desire was to die for the world. - - - - James Proudstar: I don't feel like I'm in the right place here. Whilst Sam and Terry and the rest of them are trying to be mournful and respectful and supportive, all I can think is that, well, I didn't even know the man. I tried to kill him once, but that's about it. He killed my brother. Why would I mourn for him? If I was anyone's student I was Cable's, and he and Xavier didn't exactly see eye to eye. I don't particularly feel like mourning Cable either, if it's true that he's dead. I must be careful who I mention that to. Sam said not everyone knows. They want to be sure before breaking the news to Cyclops. Trouble is, no-one knows how he died. Sam says Rachel Summers "felt" him go. Knowing Cable, he just timejumped. Or something. Still, the fact remains I don't feel all that moved by any of this. Sure, death is sad, and I'll never get over losing John or my tribe, but next to them the death of Charles Xavier is pretty meaningless. I never even wanted to be one of his extended X-Men family. It was John that went off to become the big hero, and it killed him. I didn't want to follow him, I wanted to avenge him. Then the Campe Verde massacre forced me to hook up with Cable, and before I knew it I was there on the same path, and I've never gotten off. If I even knew who massacred my tribe I might feel a bit better about it, but now I have less idea than I did when I started. So now I'm a hero, like almost everyone here. I don't even know half their stories, how they all got tangled up with this "dream", but I bet they all paint Xavier into a much more favourable role. Even Xavier must have had his story. You don't just wake up one morning and decide you're going to dedicate your entire life to fighting for the rights of mutants. It'd be much easier, even for a mutant with his telepathic powers, to just stay quiet, or even to exploit his powers. Instead he rallied all these people, and now here they all are to honour him. Yeah, it would have been real easy not to have got involved. Just to pursue your own little vendettas, to go around hurting people, getting revenge on the people you hate or blame. Getting up there and starting a crusade, that's what takes the real guts. And I was going to kill him for it. I was going to slit his throat with a knife, just because he was a more honourable man than me. "Learn from your mistakes and be a better man, a more human being. Therein lies the most fitting memorial to your brother's sacrifice." Those were his words, and he was right. So I guess without Xavier I wouldn't be who I am, where I am, today. I guess I belong here just as much as the rest of them. - - - - Yet, when the walls of flesh grow weak, In such an hour, it well may be, Through mist and darkness, light will break, And all anointed senses see. - - - - Moira MacTaggart: Well then... Well now... Here we all are then. Oh hell, there's hundreds of them, all taking their seats already. I think I'd just as soon stay in the car. Where's Sean? I'm not getting out of this car until Sean comes. We're supposed to be walking with the coffin. I want to do this right. I hope we do this right. There's two other cars behind me. I don't even know who's in there, but I guess it's Gabrielle Haller in one of them. The Israeli flag on the bonnet gave that away. I suppose it must be that Shi'Ar floozy in the third one then. Oh no. A news van. Three news vans. No, wait... oh hell, it looks like the whole of the world's media is here and I'm going to look a complete bloody mess in front of them all. Let's have a peek in the mirror. Christ, I look as pale as anything. All these damned Yanks with their Californian tans and here's me looking for all the world like a walking corpse. Aye. Now there's a step too close to the truth for comfort. I wonder if that evil cow from... from wherever she works is here? Hank's girlfriend from the news. I should give her a bloody good slapping if I see her, after what she did to me and the whole fight against Legacy. Why do people have to be so bloody interfering? Why can't they mind their own peace once in a while? There's someone stood outside my window talking to themself. Who is that? Oh no! Not Gabrielle Haller, please God don't tell me she's looking like that! She's so beautiful and elegant and sophisticated. I'm going to look like a fishwife next to her. Oh hell, just let me die now. And if you're listening God, that was not a serious request. Dying on the day of Charles' funeral would not be very good taste, and they'd only end up cremating me alongside the poor sod. He died a bachelor, it's a tad too late to go changing that. Is she talking on a mobile phone? Who's she talking to? Jesus Mary and Joseph, the hearse is right there in front of her and she's chattering away on her telephone. I don't think that's at all respectful. Come to think of it, has that snooty alien queen brought her new husband along with her? That would be awful. Oh I hope she has! Any excuse to look down my nose at her. Mind you, I don't think she'd care. I own a few mangy Scottish hills, she's got a whacking great star system. She can probably bear my disdain. Sean, Sean, Sean, where've you got to? Don't tell me you've forgotten me. Not twice in one lifetime. I want to get on with this. Get it over with. The faster we get through it, the more painless it'll be. Said the doctor. I'd better put some blusher on my cheeks. I wonder how Scott is bearing up. My God, he must feel like his whole world is gone. His wife is dead, his son is missing, and the man who was like a father to him is dead as well. I think I've got it bad, I should try being in his shoes. Did Rahne ever settle on which psalm she was going to read? Where is Rahne? I wish she could be here right now. I could do with a little company. What I really need is a hug. What I really need is someone to tell me they love me. Hurry up Sean, I can't stand this. There's no way I'm getting out of this car to make smalltalk with Charles' two old girlfriends. I wonder, do they both think I'm just another ex-girlfirend? Is that all that I am? God no, I'm worth any number of ambassadors and queens. Maybe I could turn on the radio. What happened to my chauffeur anyway? I suppose I don't actually need to do any more driving now. I just have to make the long walk down the lawn to the front row of seats. Did Sean arrange the seating? Would he put me next to someone I didn't want to be next to? God, that must be a nightmare job, arranging the seating. What would anyone do with 49 X-Men? Does Lockheed even count as an X-Man? Of course I can't turn on the radio. That's even worse than using a mobile phone. Which, come to think of it, isn't so bad at all. Now, having a flat stomach at her age, that's a real disgrace. If Sean doesn't come soon I'll get out of this car and swing for her. Oh Sean! Charles. What will I do without you, Charles? - - - - So be my passing! My task accomplished and the long day done, My wages taken, and in my heart Some late lark singing, Let me be gathered to the quiet west, The sundown splendid and serene, Death. - - - - Continued in part 2. X-Writers is a non-profit making organisation. Several of the characters, places and plots featured in this story are the legal property of Marvel. ---------- Uncanny X-Men #338 Sorrows End Live Forever Part 2 of 3. ---------- The funeral of Professor Charles Francis Xavier: By the time Sean got to Moira she had stopped crying. Everything was ready, and it was time for the funeral procession to begin. Scott had a brave smile on his face as he gave Moira a kiss on the cheek. She was momentarily disappointed, then overwhelmed with relief, when she saw that the Majestrix Lilandra had chosen Christopher Summers to be her escort for the funeral. Scott hugged his father, then Alex hugged his father, and it was a wonderful thing to see, so Moira hugged Sean and started to cry again. She quickly calmed herself as everyone began to take their positions. Scott was to walk at the head of the coffin, borne on the shoulders of the four pallbearers; Hank McCoy, Warren Worthington, Bobby Drake and Alex Summers. Moira and Sean, arm in arm, followed the coffin directly. Behind them were Lilandra and Christopher, followed by Gabrielle in the company of Piotr Rasputin, and finally Ororo and Logan. No music was playing as they progressed through the assembly, but everyone knew to fall silent. They were all there. Excalibur, Generation X, X-Force, X-Factor, as well as the Fantastic Four and members of the Avengers. All friends, and in some sense, all family. The progression reached the front, and everyone was seated. "This is a colourless show," muttered a voice in the right ear of Alison Blaire. She peered around to see a man who looked unnervingly similar to her lover, except her lover was sitting beside her, holding their daughter in his arms, and besides, this man was younger and his hair was redder and his star was much darker. "It's a funeral," she whispered back, offering no further explanation, then adding; "You're Shatterstar, right? From the future?" Shatterstar went pale as he realised who he was talking to. "Oh. You are Dazzler, of the House Celebre. Forgive me, I did not recognise you." She glanced at him, then at Longshot, and not for the first time felt she was missing out on something. Longshot smiled and took her hand. Longshot then turned to face Shatterstar, who immediately averted his gaze. "If we do our job well, Shatterstar, we will ensure your future does not come to pass," he claimed. "Yes, my lord," said Shatterstar. They all sank back into their seats. "Weird kid," said Alison under her breath. "Thank God we had a girl." A few seats along from Shatterstar sat Tabitha Smith and her fiance Sam, who had an aisle seat. He was taking advantage of this, scouring the crowd for faces, familiarising himself with the ones he didn't know so well. "Wow. That's Captain America over there. And there's Reed Richards. I hope I get a chance to talk to him later on." "You're slipping into dumb hick mode again Guthrie," warned Tabitha. "Why d'you always go stoopid around other heroes? You're as good a man as any of them. Stop it." "Yeah, but everyone is here." Tabitha went suddenly quiet, which was not in character by any stretch of the imagination. Either she was thinking, or she was chewing gum. "Tab?" "Uh-huh?" "You about to blow a bubble or something?" "Huh? No. You're right, everyone is here. I wonder..." And then she trailed off. It was spearmint. Meanwhile, the minister stepped up on to the podium and began his mass. "Do we have to sit through this?" "Hush little snowflake." "Little what?" "Snowflake. I always call you that." "Well don't you think it's time you grew out of it?" Piotr frowned. "Illyana, this is the funeral of a great man. I would like to hear his mass." "You're an atheist." "Be quiet." The minister spoke to them about God and heaven, about love and loss, and about life and achievement. It could have been about anyone. When he was finished, Sean Cassidy took the stand to deliver a more personal eulogy. "I would like to begin," he said, "with my own version of the lives of the saints. "There once was a man named Charles the Good, and he was a king, and he was aptly named, for he devoted himself above all other things to the welfare of his people. Then there was Saint Francis, a man who lived his life amongst the outcasts, ministering to their needs. And then there was Saint Xavier, a scholar and a missionary, travelling to the very edge of the world to spread word of his message of peace and love. "We are here today to remember a man named for all three of these saints; a man who shares great qualities with each of them. However, Charles Francis Xavier would be the first to admit that he was no saint. Indeed, he would say that he was no better than any other man. That was, after all, the lesson of his life. All people, irrespective of race, gender, politics, creed, status, sexuality or ability were to be accorded equal respect and afforded equal dignity. All people without exception. "Now, Charles Xavier was a visionary. His gift, his brilliant scientific mind, coupled with his tremendous humanitarian heart, allowed him not only to understand the nature of human mutation, but also to set him off along the course he was to follow until the day of his tragic death. He was a crusader. He believed with absolute certainty that a person born with an exceptional genetic structure, a "gift" which they had no choice but to accept, should not be hated, alienated or enslaved by the rest of humanity. "Of course, all of you know his dream well enough. Many of you fight for it yourselves. We are here not to remember the dream, but to remember the dreamer. It is easy for any man to live in one world and conceive of another, but it takes a great man, a courageous man, to actually try and build it. That is what sets Charles Xavier apart from the rest. He has not survived to see his dream become a reality, which is a terrible shame, but thanks to his dedication and foresight there is now a whole team of people willing to carry on the work to his plan. He is the architect, and he has bequeathed us his design; his vision. He has given us the future. "Looking before me now, at all of you, I can see a whole mosaic of friendly faces. The diversity of faces, voices, attitudes and histories is quite amazing. What unites you all is Charles himself. You will all have your different impressions of death, your own ideas about what lies beyond it, and I think Charles would be delighted to know that all these ideas stand shoulder to shoulder, respected and unashamed, at his own funeral. In all of you we can be assured that, in one sense at least, he will have life after death. His dream will live forever. "Now I would ask you all to take a moment to reflect and, if you so wish, to pray, as Rahne Sinclair reads from the psalms, after which we shall all walk down to the cove." Rahne stepped up to the podium and took a long nervous breath to steady herself. She glanced down at the bible in front of her, then proceeded to recite the psalm from memory. "Behold, how good and pleasant it is For brethren to dwell together in unity! It is like the precious ointment upon the head, That ran down the beard, Even Aaron's beard: That went down to the skirts of the garments; As the dew of Hermon, That descended upon the mountains of Zion: For there the Lord commanded a blessing, Even live for ever more." Then the pallbearers resumed their positions around the coffin and began to take it down towards the lake. This time the entire congregation followed in an orderly fashion and in silence, and they took their places on the water's edge. There were gasps of astonishment as the coffin began to drift out over the water, floating above the surface on a telekinetic wave, as if on some ghostly Viking ship. Then the waters rose in two twisting corkscrew ribbons around the water, and flames began to spout between them. It was the most incredible spectacle - the walls of water formed into glistening ice, and behind them the fire glowed as the body of Charles Xavier was consumed by the unique funeral pyre. Then suddenly the waters burst up through the ice chamber, dowsing the flame, shattering the ice, dragging the ashes unseen into the lake itself. A moment later the waters calmed, and the ceremony was over. Gabrielle Haller watched on stoically, her tears rolling gently down her cheeks. Lilandra was equally silent, and her eyes were tightly closed. According to the tradition of her people she could not weep yet, and was to use this time to remember the life that had been. Only Moira was open in her remorse. Sean held her tight as she wept and shook. When the funeral was over the people began to make their way slowly towards the hospitality tent. One of the first to get there was Warren, who quickly poured himself a large glass of Bourbon over ice. "Warren?" Without turning, he poured another glass out and threw in another handful of ice, then passed the glass to Charlotte. "As far as I can recall you've only met the Professor once," said Warren. "What are you doing here?" "I was part of his Underground. Besides, I respected the work he was doing. You know that I've always been on his side, Warren. Your side." She paused, grasping for something original to say. "So...how have you been? I mean, since the... since he died?" "I'm planning to go back into the city," replied Warren. "Hodge did a good job of wiping out Worthington Enterprises a couple of year back, but I've had some projects in the works since then, and there are a number of long term investments that Hodge couldn't touch that are just now going to bear fruit. I should be keeping myself busy." He gulped down the whisky. "And you? How have you been?" "Not so well. I've become too wrapped up in my work since Timmy was murdered. There was a memorial service a couple of months ago." "I know. I'm sorry I didn't come." "Perhaps you could take some flowers to his grave. That would be a nice gesture." "Of course." She put down her empty glass. "Good. I'll see you around then, I guess." "Sure." On her way out of the marquee she passed another uncomfortable reunion. Alex said hi, Lorna said hi, then neither of them knew what else to say. Their relationship was in limbo, because they both needed their space, and they both wanted time to think, and for a hundred and one other reasons that neither of them could actually remember or validate as they stood here face to face. Of course, neither of them would be the first to say so either. "So are you going to visit me up at the asteroid?" She smiled. "Not very convenient is it? You'd better come visit me instead. Once I'm settled down again." "Yeah. Okay." She glanced over his shoulder. "Your dad's over there. I think he wants to talk to you." "Oh. Do you mind?" "No. Of course not." He smiled, couldn't think of anything else to say, and went over to join his father and brother. Lorna smirked and bit on her knuckle. "Aw gee Jim-Bob, can I see you after math?" she whispered in a mock-Kentucky accent. "Oh he is such a sap. And so am I. God!" She went inside to get a drink, and get out of sight of the Summers boys reunion. "Alex! It's good to see you son," said Chris Summers, giving his boy a hug. "It's been a while Dad. I'm glad you could make it." "Wouldn't have been able to if it weren't for Lilandra. I'm glad she agreed to bring me along. She can't travel offworld for the next few days, as part of the ceremony, so I should be able to stick around. I'd like to spend some of that time catching up with my boys." "There's a lot to catch up on," said Alex. "Too much," said Scott solemnly. "It'd be nice if you and Rachel could get to know each other a little better too." He cast a glance at Rachel. She was sitting on the grass with Logan, talking to him earnestly. Her arm was around his shoulder, and he was staring off across the water. Scott had no idea what they had to talk about, but it was obvious that they didn't want to be disturbed. Alex was also looking around. Brian was talking to Betsy, Sam to Paige, Illyana to Piotr, Raven to Kurt, Theresa to Sean and Wanda to Pietro, though these last two were interrupted by Emma Frost, who seemed to want a private word with Wanda. "Nothing like a death to bring the family together," observed Alex. - - - - The poor inhabitant below Was quick to learn and wise to know, And keenly felt the friendly glow, And softer flame; But thoughtless follies laid him low, And stain'd his name. - - - - Continued in part 3. X-Writers is a non-profit making organisation. Several of the characters, places and plots featured in this story are the legal property of Marvel. ---------- Uncanny X-Men #338 Sorrows End Live Forever Part 3 of 3. --------- Pietro Maximoff: Wanda has changed. Now there is a stupid observation. Wanda has been reduced to the age of eighteen by Apocalypse in an attempt to make her more susceptible to becoming his pawn. I should be grateful that the change only went so far. Still, there is something wrong with her thinking. Her mind has regressed with her body, and she lacks the wisdom and experience that the years had once given her. It worries me. She has already spent time in the unsavoury company of Victor Von Doom, and I hardly think Emma Frost is a better role model. I must look out for my twin sister. Especially as she is now half my age. How strange, though, that this should seem the least of my problems at the moment. It is not enough that my daughter is dying, but now I have to come to terms with the fact that my father is apparently not dying. He has the future on his side again and I dread to think what he intends to do with it. Sean Cassidy seemed to think Charles Xavier's greatness was a worthy thing. I have first hand experience of the folly of great men, and I tend to think they are overrated. My father in his "greatness" managed to get people killed. Charles Xavier was not much different; stoking people up with the fire of his own overzealous dreams, sending people out like cannon fodder to give their lives in another man's cause. All those heads laid on the line. Of course, it is not the crusade that bothers me. It is the leaders whom they insist on making gods. No man should be admired so strongly. If I had not fallen under my father's spell and joined his Brotherhood I would never have had the rest of my life taken over by this damned fight. From the Avengers to X-Factor to this, it's all the same fight. Great men are poison to a normal existence. If Fabian Cortez weren't dead already... If nothing else at least I can be sure that I will never become like my father. I have stepped over that line once before, when my wife betrayed me and I was pushed over the boarders of insanity to work with the likes of Zodiac and the Communist super-agents. I thought I could proclaim myself as the new king of mutantkind, as my father had done before me. Cortez tried to persuade me that this was indeed my legacy. I don't agree. Egomania need not be an inheritable trait. Look at them all. Blind sheep. Is it really my place to remain among them? People like Scott Summers grew up in this way of life. Betsy Braddock and Warren Worthington, they threw themselves into the lives of a hero even before they met Xavier and his school. Some of these people are so altruistic that it scares me. A whole army of great men and women in the making. That is all the world needs. There are a few I can trust to remain sane, I am sure. But then, even Storm seems a little more erratic lately, and she used to be the strongest of them all. Admirably so. She has been a very good friend to me in the recent weeks. Patient. I wish I could be so patient. I must remember to return her kindness, and watch that she return to her old self. I must watch them all. If I must live, even die, for this fight, then I must ensure it is fought for the ideal and not the idealist. We need passion and fire to carry us through, but it must never consume us. And on the subject of consume, it would appear everyone is occupied in the marquee. Oh. Not quite everyone. A few remain outside. We few, we sane few, are here to face the sober world. - - - - Grave men, near death, who see with blinding sight, Blind eyes could blaze like meteors and be gay Rage, rage against the dying of the light. And you, my father, there on that sad height, Curse, bless me now with fierce tears I pray. Do not go gentle into that good night. Rage, rage against the dying of the light. - - - - Katherine Pryde: I see there are still one or two people out here. Kurt, Sean, Hank. I'm not alone. Shame, I was hoping for some time to myself. Perhaps if I avoid eye contact and head off around the lake I'll get my chance. The lake looks really pretty. It's so strange being back here again. I don't live here anymore, on Xavier's land. None of us do. I guess this might even be the last time I come here. That's an idea that might take some getting used to. This was my home for a long time. Or it felt like a long time. I wonder what would have happened if I had still been living here? I guess I could have saved the Professor; I could have phased him out of harm's way. Maybe. Not that it's my fault. It's not like "darn, I left the mansion ages ago but I should have just known to come back last week for no reason whatsoever". I hadn't even spoken to the Professor in a while. Not that we were ever like best friends or anything. I remember when I first met Kurt he really scared me, because he looked so weird. What I never told anyone was that the Professor scared me nearly as much, and at least I got used to Kurt. Where's Pete? I bet he's knocking back the free drinks in a corner of that marquee. Sidled off to let me be alone, bless his tarred little heart. He never even got to meet the Professor, but I just know they would have really, totally, completely hated each other. I guess that proves how far I've drifted. Or else how much I've grown. It's so strange, to think that the whole of the rest of my life will go by and someone will actually be missing. Like ordinary people. That sort of thing just never happens to us though. My two best friends in the world, Rachel and Illyana, I lost them both, and now they're both back here today. Even Kurt and Peter were pretty close to death after the Morlock massacre, but they came back. I came back. I keep thinking they'll always come back. I guess not. Speak of the devil, there's Peter up ahead, gazing out across the waters. I don't think he's seen me, which is just as well. I mean, he's still my friend and everything - I hope - but I can't face him right now. It would all get heavy and emotional, or worse, we'd be polite and pretend nothing had happened, and I couldn't stand either of those options right now. I'll just start walking back. I feel a bit sick. Kinda like my stomach has been gouged out and pumped full of air. Like a big hungry nothing is trapped inside of me. I'd better go back and sit down somewhere. I guess I'm just feeling a bit more overwrought than I thought I was. About the Professor, I mean. He had the biggest impact on me. I've seen pretty much all there is to see in a few busy years, but nothing, and no-one, has ever inspired me the way he's done. He made me who I am. The world won't seem the same without him. Thanks Chuck. I'd better find that no good cancerous boyfriend of mine. He's probably swearing at Senator Kelly and trying to seduce Betsy Braddock. Pig. Bless him. - - - - The ship is anchored safe and sound, it's voyage closed and done, From fearful trip the victor ship comes in with object won; Exult O shores, and ring O bells! But I with mournful tread Walk the deck my Captain lies, Fallen cold and dead. - - - - Piotr Nikolevitch Rasputin: Oh good, she is returning to join the others. I do not think I can speak with her at the moment. I do not think I can face any of them. I betrayed Xavier and all of the X-Men, and I do not deserve to walk among them now. I lost one family, and turned my back on another. That was wrong. Now I do not know where I should be. I believed so strongly in the dream, and then abandoned it. I suppose the death of my sister, and the damage incurred at the hands of the X-Cutioner, those were my undoing. Together they pushed me over the edge. I should... I should... This is a truly beautiful landscape. I spend too much time looking at the people to ever notice the land. No. The brain damage is a poor excuse. I should never have left them. This was never about me, or about Charles or Magneto or Illyana or Kitty. None of this is about any one person. It is about all of us. It is about the world. Under Exodus the Acolytes were little more than a self-serving cult, and in their company I was willing to forget the world. That was a terrible mistake. I would not even be back here now if it were not for Charles. When Sally and I left Muir Island I do not think either of us thought we would be back amongst the X-Men again any time in the near future. It was only when I heard the news of Xavier's death that I decided to come back to the mansion, and now that I am here it appears the dream has entrapped me once more. I shall never leave. I should make some sketches. If they do not intend to rebuild the mansion then the X-Men will not be returning, and I may not see this land again. I would like to go back to Britain with my sister, but I do not think that it is wise for Katya and I to be on the same team. Nor will there be a place for me on Scott's team, for I would prefer to put some distance between myself and Magneto and his offworld asteroid. I hope Ororo will be able to find a place for me. But then, I never did conclude the business that took me away from Muir in the first place. I still do not know if anyone survived the destruction of the Savage Land. The area has been made unapproachable thanks to the high radiation levels, but I have done all that we can to try to locate survivors. I must not give up on that search. I suppose this means I am still limited in my perceptions. I am thinking not of the world, but of myself. Yet this means the world to me. I must know for certain if Nereel and Peter survived. They must have survived. - - - - And the wild regrets and the bloody sweats, None knew so well as I; For he who lives more lives than one More deaths than one must die. - - - - Valerie Cooper: What time is it? I should call in, see if there are any messages. I really must speak to Senator Kelly before I go anywhere. All we've done is exchange pleasantries, but I think we should have a proper conversation, given my position and his... disposition. I seem to be spending most of my time here being harassed by National Security Advisor Gyrich, and I'm sure there are more constructive uses for my time. A minute or two with the Genoshan, Dr Majcomb, that might prove useful. Perhaps a few words with Sam Guthrie about the activities and whereabouts of his erstwhile leader Cable would be fruitful. I could do a little networking with Ambassadors Haller and St Croix, or smooth the waters between myself and Captain America. I wonder if the Avengers present today intend to be the new team? All veterans, I see. That's reassuring. Really, if I have to spend all day at the funeral of a man I did not know - a great man, of course, there's no questioning that - then I should at least take advantage of the time. I'm going to get a glass of water. I wish I wasn't driving, I could use something stronger. So, Charles Xavier is dead. Nice funeral, good turn out. All these mutants though, and recognisable X-Men at that, I should think at least one of those media vultures outside might have put two and two together and worked out exactly how close to the X-Men Xavier actually was, and just how "gifted" his youngsters actually were. That would not be good news for the Massachussets Academy. Hopefully no-one will actually work out that Xavier himself was a mutant. That would do his cause no good at all. He would be labelled as a deceiver by the anti-mutant lobby, and technically they would be correct. Come to think of it, I don't think dying will do his cause much good either. After all, who will replace him? Someone must step in to fill his shoes. Wheelchair. Whatever. Someone must take his place on the world stage, especially with all that has happened lately. Anti-mutant feeling is at a high at the moment. It may not take much to tip it over the edge into riotous hysteria. I don't see anyone here today that could really make a worthy successor. McCoy, Cassidy, Summers, those would be the top three candidates, and all of them have too much on their hands already. If no-one emerges it could damage their fight more than anything Magneto or any evil mutant could do. The ramifications of Charles Xavier's death go well beyond the personal feelings of loss these people are feeling. We have a potential tragedy in the making here. All for the want of a little posturing, a little speechmaking, a little grandstanding. Oh yes. Senator Kelly. I almost forgot. - - - - A little rule, a little sway, A sunbeam on a winter's day, Is all the proud and mighty have Between the cradle and the grave. - - - - Logan: "Everyone was too busy grievin' or pretendin' to grieve to notice me slipping out of there on my motorbike. I couldn't stick around after what Rachel told me. Besides someone should be here with you today. Chuck ain't the only one we lost last week, and with all due fairness to the old man, he didn't mean nearly as much to me as you do Jeannie. "I know you can't hear me. I know you're not really here now, that this is just a shell being kept alive for the sake of that kid inside of you. All the same, I've got to talk to someone, and I figure you're the one. Maybe your ghost'll be around to hear me. Y'see, what Rachel told me this afternoon, it concerns us both. You n' me. What could have been. She told me we were her parents. You and Scott were the couple in her world, just like in this one, but over there, you n' me, we had a kid. Jesus Jeannie, we were together. Maybe only for one night, but we were together like we've never been in this world. Maybe we could have done more. Maybe in some world we could have been together. Maybe in this world. "She's a good kid. Overstepped the line once, and I had to pull her back, but she's still a good kid. I guess even then I was feeling like I had a responsibility to her. A hard, bad father. I mean, there was always something about her. Enough fire to be your kid, but way too much to be Scott's. "Don't worry Red, I'll look out for her. Her and this next kid of yours. With parents like the ones he'll get, he's going to need a guardian angel. While I'm at it, I'll try to find out what really happened to Cable. Knowing him, he'll only be as dead as he feels. I'll look out for all of 'em Jeannie. All our children. "I'd better take some time out from the team though. Everyone needs room to get settled, an' I'm so jumpy I'd only get in the way. Besides, there's always things I could be doing. The people that did this to you Jeannie, we gotta keep tabs on all of them. I feel like the bad guys are winning right now, and we're nowhere. That ain't right. "You n' me. We coulda taken them all, right? You n' me. If we coulda been together we could have solved everything. The world would be perfect right now, if we could have been together. "Christ Jeannie, I'm crying so hard and all I want to do is just take you in my arms, like it was all alright, and there was no-one in the world but us. I'll just have to settle for kissin' you. I wish you were able to kiss me, but that ain't gonna happen. Not to this poor excuse for a man. What would you ever see in me, eh Red? "I love you Jeannie. I'll see you around." - - - - When to the sessions of sweet silent thought I summon up remembrance of things past, I sigh the lack of many a thing I sought, And with old woes new wail my dear time's waste. Then can I drown an eye, unused to flow, For precious friends hid in death's dateless night, And weep afresh love's long since cancelled woe, And moan th'expense of many a vanished sight. Then can I grieve at grievances foregone, And heavily from woe to woe tell o'er The sad account of fore-bemoaned moan, Which I new pays as if not paid before. But if a while I think on thee, dear friend, All losses are restored and sorrows end. - - - - End. - - - - The poetic quotations used above belong, respectively, to the following works and authors: Immortality - George William Russell Requiem - Ralph Waldo Emerson The Shapes Of Death - Stephen Spender Extreme Unction - Ernest Dowson Margaritae Sororis - William Ernest Henley Psalm 133 - Hymnal of the Jewish Church (Psalms) A Bard's Epitaph - Rabbie Burns Do Not Go Gentle Into That Good Night - Dylan Thomas O Captain! My Captain! - Walt Whitman The Ballad Of Reading Gaol - Oscar Wilde Grongar Hill - John Dyer Sonnet XXX - William Shakespeare ======================