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Scott Summers stared out the window, lost in thought.
"Wan' Remy t' make it rain for y', homme?"
"What?"
"Y' looking nervous. Wan' Remy t' delay the wedding a bit?"
Scott forced himself to focus on the form of Remy Monroe LeBeau, his shock of white hair going in all directions, as usual, although the rest of him was neat and tidy, and for once, wearing his contacts.
(Kitty had told him, quite seriously "You are not wearing sunglasses in my wedding photos!")
Scott laughed, holding up three fingers.
"One, drop that ridiculous accent; you don't talk like that and you know it. Two, no rain. No snow, no hail, no unusual weather phenomenon of any kind. Three, try to do something with your hair. You look like a bleached hedgehog."
LeBeau grinned. "You know, Rogue thinks I put on that accent just to annoy her."
"And do you?"
"Non. I do it to annoy Logan."
Chuckling, Scott pushed him out the door.
"Go get your Aunty Marie to do something with that mop of yours."
"You'll be alright, Uncy S?"
Scott nodded. "I just need to think about some things."
They'd decided on Italian, that night. Jean, himself, and three kids; their two, Elizabeth and Michael, and the young orphaned Remy. Jean had wanted Chinese. It took him a good few years to forgive himself for insisting on going to Mama Elenas.
It was a warm summer's day, and they were eating out on the terrace. Michael was getting more macaroni cheese down his front than in his mouth, and Jean was refereeing a spaghetti fight between Elizabeth and Remy.
Absolute chaos. And he'd never been happier.
He could remember it in slow motion, if he tried. The truck, going too fast, jack-knifing round the corner, skidding off a parked car, twisting onto it's side; heading straight for a young girl and her mother, who could do nothing but scream.
And Jean was there, sweat on her brow, her green eyes flashing in the light as she held it back, slowly turning it until it came to rest, safely. Scott could remember his wonderment, as the locals applauded. He knew this was known as a tolerant neighborhood – it was one of the reasons they came here. (After all, how many restaurants would serve a white haired boy with devil eyes, no questions asked?)
But he'd never realized how far they'd come.
Mama Elena herself had come out from the kitchens to view the spectacle. She laughed, ruffling Elizabeth's hair.
"Looks like your mama a hero, Elly Jean." To Scott, she said;
"Ice-cream cake all round, I think. On the house."
Scott was about to tell her that it wasn't necessary, but Elly, Mike and Remy were already chanting "Ice-cream, Ice-cream!"
And then the shot rang out.
When your whole world is shades of red, you might think it would be difficult to distinguish one color from another. But Scott would never forget the dark red that spread so clearly across her chest.
He remembered the man, looking so ordinary. The man who had just killed his wife.
He remembered that it had taken a great deal of effort to just shoot the gun out of his hands. A few minor burns, but he'd live.
Scott had wanted to kill him.
"Ice-cream, Ice-cream!" faded into "Mommy! Mommy!"
They'd only had time for a few precious words, but she'd told him she loved him, and to take care of the kids.
By the time the ambulance Mama Elena had called arrived, she was already dead.
He remembered the blood on his hands.
A few days later, they found out that some kid, playing around with a video camera, had shot the whole thing. The footage was jerky, but it showed the main events quite clearly.
It was broadcast on Friday. The flowers started arriving Saturday morning. And the phone calls. Letters of condolence. Photographers and reporters, at the gates, every day.
He'd been a little angry, when he found out that Kitty had used the public outrage at Jeans murder, to push through a new bill.
"It's my memorial to her." was all she said. The man who had shot Jean was the first to be tried under the Mutant Equality Act. He was sentenced to life. And the reporters kept coming.
He'd watched his children grow up without their mother. To tell the truth; by the time Kitty offered him the job at the newly formed Mutant Security agency, Logan and Marie were doing most of the parenting.
Scott threw himself into his new job, and tried not to think. The day that the Alpha team, led by Logan,
captured Sabertooth, he'd gone out to dinner with
Kitty to celebrate. They'd shared one
brief, chaste kiss, before he'd pushed her away, disgusted at himself for
betraying Jean.
When he got home, Elly had taken one look at him and handed him the phone.
"You should call her and apologize, Daddy."
"Elly…"
She rolled her eyes. "Yell at me for misusing my power later. I know what's going on between you and Kitty. I do know about the birds and the bees, Daddy. I've talked to Aunty Rogue. I've read Uncle Wolvie's mind a couple times."
"Elizabeth Jean!"
"The point is," she continued, ignoring his outrage, "you like Kitty a lot, me and Mike are in desperate need of a mother figure, and Mom told me not to let you be alone."
She frowned.
"I didn't understand it at the time, being just a kid and all; but I still remember. She told me 'take care of your Daddy. Don't let him be alone'. And that's what you're doing to yourself. You never see your friends, you work stupid long hours…"
"Elly, you don't understand."
"I understand better than you might think, Dad. Now ring her, or I'll sic Uncle Wolvie on you!"
He never knew whether to laugh or cry at that memory. Yes, they'd come so far. There was a waiting list for Xavier's, for gods sake. Jubilee, now bouncing across the lawn towards the mansion, was the headmistress, (of all people!), of the California Institute for the Genetically Gifted. There was a waiting list for that, too.
But what was the cost? The loss of friends, the loss of his love? Funny, that during that time of prejudice and hatred, he'd believed in Xavier's dream with all his heart. And now, when his daughter read MutanTeen (We review: Top fashion looks and funkiest skin colors of the summer season!), and Bobby did ice sculptures for award ceremonies and signed autographs, he'd lost his faith.
He wanted to scream at the sky. He wanted to yell "NOT AT THIS COST!". Not at the cost of Jean's life. Not at the cost of his children's innocence. Not when he watched Logan love his wife, past death, in a way that he could not.
Not when he hated himself for every day he was happy.
"Hey!"
He whirled, seeing Jubilee at the door. Kitty had managed to talk her into a soft, lemon yellow, instead of the neon she would no doubt prefer.
"Don't you knock?"
"I was raised in a barn. Don't you know that?". asked Jubilee. She grinned, tapping her watch.
"Ten minutes, dude. Ready or not."
"I'm ready." he said softly.
He stayed at the window a few more minutes, just watching and listening. Somewhere, Marie had managed to take a brush to Remy's hair.
"Ow! Aunty M!"
"Don't talk like ya in the Wizard of Oz, Sugah. Ahm being as gentle as Ah can."
Jubilee had walked close to the fence, where the public gathered, and couldn't resist letting off a small preview of the planned fireworks display, resulting in cheers and applause.
Elly Jean had joined a group of her friends, giggling and dancing around, while Jubilee's son Isacc plotted mischief with Michael under a table.
Scott took the picture of Jean out of his pocket. Passport-sized and well worn, he'd kept it on him since her death. Now, he looked at it, one last time, and then put her in the drawer with the other mementoes – her favorite scarf, a few pieces of jewellery he was meaning to give to Elly Jean, one of the invitations from their wedding.
~Goodbye, my love.~
~Goodbye, dear one. And good luck.~
Now he was ready. Scott Summers took a deep breath, rearranged his tux, and headed out into the light.