This is a story i posted a while back but it got no reviews so i torched it, but i felt the story still could be told and so i re-wrote it. It takesplace several years into the future of the X-men timeline, I know that many things have happened since i took a last look at X-men,
important facts to know:
1) I have learned that Jean Grey had died, but she's kind of central to what i developed so I brought her back, an action which is bound to happen sometime in the future of the X-men title anyway; 2) I have kept the facts as they have been revealed to me and have developed new ones, for example Rachel has indeed returned, and is alive, again it is central to some of the story. 3) This story will follow others in a series much like a comic book...
also, there are many characters that are of my own device, all others that have been already created are property of Marvel comics and much effort is placed into keeping with their original spirit, which include increased background checks. Enjoy and please r&r
"Light falls uneasily over the grounds of Xavier's School for Gifted Youngsters, a beautiful sunset on a day that no one really wants to smile. The school is filled literally to the door steps with mutates from all over the world and even some from the far reaches of the Universe, all to pay homage to one man, one man who is among the few who was able to change the world with a dream and a vision…Professor Charles Francis Xavier was a man…"
The sound of the American television reporter shuts off as a young Chinese boy caresses a slender thigh; a giggle permeates the room as a young girl smiles, its seems as though her hazel eyes glow in the darkness of the almost morning, the twilight that stands a few hours from the blazing dawn.
"What, the hell are you doing?" she asks, playfully as his lips move from her own to her neck, she laughs knowing that her life had just changed the night before.
"Come on, you know you want to do it again…" he answers her, he begins his aggressive tactics pulling the sheets that guard her nude flesh away; she moves away in a game of cat and mouse and says in her Hong Kong accent,
"Four times weren't enough?"
Her laugh is loud and full of joy- freedom has its perks- she thinks to herself as she pulls him by his briefs toward her to join again in the warm, passionate embrace of young unhindered love.
The dark Indian night sky is littered with millions of stars as the sounds of music push forth from a small ghetto deep inside Calcutta, colors that are as vibrant as tropical flowers circle around in rhythmic dancing as villagers, farmers and urban dwellers alike celebrate the marriage that has just taken place. And upon a balcony a smiling dark-skinned face laughs as her sister moves with beauty and grace, dressed ever so regally in her wedding dress that nearly took her entire dowry to pay for. She is young, full of life, happiness and love, even though no sound of the music comes to her ears, and never has it passed her eardrums all the years of her young life.
An elderly, round woman dressed in a beautiful-if-understated Sari, taps her youngest child upon the shoulder and makes wild signs with her hands, signs that no trained hand-linguist in the world could possibly get right the first time. The girl smiles shyly and nods her head with a certain sprite-like quality and quickly descends the creaking stairs that lay immediately to her right, to the door of the cellar, that smells pungent with the rich fruit wines, brought in from the best wineries in India. She opens the door with ease despite its age and the taps of her nimble feet echo through the dark, deep cellar as she approaches the box of imported wines, taking from it a beautifully crafted blue bottle.
Unknown to her two shadows creep into the cellar closing the old creaky door and shutting off from the darkness the vibrant sounds of wedding music; a shrill voice breaks in laughter,
"This was a great idea… You sure she can't hear us…"
"Nah she's been deaf all her life…she won't hear a thing…and best of all…she can't even scream."
The ignorant girl turns to leave the dark womb-like room, happy…until strong and violent hands push her out of balance, banging her head violently upon the stone floor.
The late afternoon sun bakes the tourist group as they leave the canyon valley, content with the amount of pictures they took of the Great Canyon within the desert of Arizona, a Canyon that for thousands of years was carved by rivers, glaciers, and bergs. Though today its once beautiful splendor is muted in the hot summer sun, the valley is no longer green as it once used to be, the result of an ensuing four year drought that has stricken the southwest United States and Northern Mexico.
"You'll never make it past the rangers…"
The hushed voices of young children are filled with laughter and the thrill of danger as one of their own, a tall, dark youthful boy with long-shoulder-length hair, their chaperone of all things, sneaks away from the groups at large and makes his way, unwatched by the tour guides to the path that leads to a forbidden part of the canyon, defended only by a chain and a NO TRESSPASSING sign. He sends them a wink with his eye as he maneuvers around the little old ladies in turquoise and pink jump suits from Palm Beach, who have driven thousands of miles on a Casino's bus to look at the walls of reddish rock, before spending the entire night putting quarters in the slot machines at their hotel. He laughs as he passes under the chain link fence, ever the adventurous spirit he runs head long into the dry, brown brush, an act that earns him a few scratches and twigs in his hair. But this he does not notice, freedom was his goal. Turning his head no ones seems to notice he is even gone, at least until the others rat on him…
He simply turns his head away and proceeds to crawl through the brush and untamed wildness of the canyon valley; he crawls and crawls until ultimately he stops because of exhaustion and thirst. The hot sun burns through the dried brush and tans his skin even darker that it already was, judging himself safe from human eyes he leaves the protective, scaring defense of the brush. His tongue feels dry, as though someone laced it with cotton candy that was really that old pink insulation that hung out of the orphanage's ceilings. He sits for a while beneath the shade of a leafless mesquite tree, taking in the solitude his rather daring action earned him, he smiles through his thirst and sees for the first time a small bit of green among the deepest part of the thicket.
Drawn to it by some unknown force he cuts his way through the dry branches of small shrubs and thin trees until as if by some freak of nature he come to a place hidden from the tour that the nuns paid $30 American per child for. There stands before him a reserve of only a few feet in acreage of vibrant green and dark deep brown, through it runs a small almost imperceptible creek that runs from an unseen spring at the mountainside. The rocks above him teeter gently on the edges of the cliffs as though he were Indiana Jones and all he had to do was step onto the sacred ground to be crushed by their violent mass. He sighed in awe at the simple beauty of it, as he walked through that little piece of land that the drought had not touched; the sound of birds could be heard in the brush, either a welcoming or a warning of an intruder in their midst. It turned out to be a little of both…as the boy knelt beside the creek to drink of that hidden water a crack of a dry brittle twig brought his eyes up to meet eyes of amber, that sat above the large, sharp and menacing teeth of a mountain lion.
Westchester, New York
A head crowned in red, glowing hair looks out at the sunset from a third floor room in a mansion whose official size, from roof to lower levels is still unknown even by the Pentagon. The view is rather spectacular from where she stands, the beauty of the Westchester valley stretches out before her, How close it came to destruction… she thinks mildly to herself as the sound of a respirator and EKG machine break the silence with a shrill affirming
Beep
An exhausted voice comes from the large bed beside her, struggling to breath out every word yet still having a great weight behind it, a power that comes from the mouths of legends and heroes.
"What…does it…look like…from there?"
Silently she speaks telepathically with the ancient man propped up by so many down pillows one would have though he was a king except for his humble, yet noble nature,
"I told you Charles, if you want to talk, don't use your voice, save your strength…"
Beep
"Dying doesn't need physical strength my dear Jean, it requires acceptance, that is where the strength lies… you know that above all, you alone know what its like…to die."
Silently the hale man smiles at her and though his lips do not move to speak one word his eyes speak of all that filters through his mind, there sit alone in that grand master bed room the two greatest telepaths in the world, and all that speaks for them is their eyes.
Beep
Outside the door, sitting on a chair, a figure wearing dark ruby glasses reads a newspaper, his hair once dark brown now shows glints of peppered gray and his youthful slim frame has been replaced by a fuller build, one that one would expect from an old soldier still in the time of his prime. Beside him is a woman with platinum blonde hair, dressed in her usual white, though now her mood is calm, whereas once it was rebellious, tentative and filled with moxy. Her eyes sag with age, though her face is firm and youthful, a product of surgery or just a healthy diet is still up to debate among her students. Not far from them a man, in his late 30's leans on the wall of the hallway, silent, contemplative, obviously thinking of all the pranks he used to play on the ancient man only a few feet away: hiding his wheel chair, "decorating" his room with skate-boarder ramps made of ice, giving him a giant novelty comb and Rogaine for Christmas with the note "Here's hopin'" attached. Reading a book of serious girth sits a creature, who is perhaps the most human out of most, though without he appears feline-like, and covered in blue fur. Sitting with them a is woman, with the demeanor of a queen or even a goddess, her long white hair accentuating her deep blue eyes, her hands gently laid upon her lap and yet looking as though they are ready to dance like lightning
Beep
And beyond them is a staircase that leads to the second floor where sit literally hundreds of people of differing ages, sizes, colors, textures of skin and varying body shapes; some appear "normal" to the unknowing eye, others are not so…their names are many: Kate, once called Kitty in her youth, Rouge, Remy, Warren, Kurt, Cecilia, Nate, Rachel…Packed together they sit carrying on conversations amongst themselves, many of them about the man they all came to see, some bringing memories of joy with their words, others those of a more somber nature. Beyond them the grand staircase opens up to a large foyer where more sit with anticipation and just like the others above them packed in large groups, some bursting into laughter, others mere joy at seeing old friends after long periods of separation. Others sit there also, who have had little to do with the house that Xavier built but have otherwise earned the right to sit there as friends and colleagues; their names are far more legendary and some even reach into myth and the far reaches of the Universe: Steve Rogers, The Richards family, Janet Van Dyne, Tony Stark, Empress Lilandra, among others. And beyond them lay a vast courtyard where behind gates of iron and steel stood hundreds of news reporters from around the world, with large cameras, all of them hoping to get at least a simple glimpse of the man, whose death was causing ripples in the hearts of every being on the planet.
Beep
"How do I go on without you? How do any of us keep this dream going when the dreamer is gone Charles?"
"You mean to tell me in all our years together, you have never understood my dream? I find that hard to believe"
The ancient man's bittersweet voice entered Jean Grey's mind as she sat on the bed beside him who she knew as a father on the verge of tears. Caressing her face the old man smiled and with his deep hazel eyes said,
Beep
"You have always been beautiful Jean, the most beautiful of daughters I ever could have…you are…like an angel, have I ever told you that?"
"Yes, once, on the night of my first date with…it doesn't matter anymore"
Leaning into his embrace, she becomes again like the small ten-year old child who came to him for help those many years ago, and would want him to hug her whenever she had a nightmare. With tears flowing from her eyes she smiles sagely, minding the cords that lead to the monitor where again the machine delivers a shrill
Beep
"Do you remember…the day of your wedding…you came to me and said, 'Do you think Scott will love me forever?'"
"Please…don't talk to me about that…I…"
Beep
"Would you begrudge an old man his memories?"
Sadly smiling she shakes her head and whispers, "no", and then she took a chair beside the bed and took his hand, which began to feel cold, into her own. He continued speaking with her, looking off into the distance as though the memory was played out in front of him on a TV screen.
Beep
"You were so frightened that morning I actually thought you were going to change your mind…I thought you looked so beautiful in your wedding dress, gentle, fragile, yet strong as a diamond…I remember thinking you looked like one of Ororo's orchids that demanded so much care because one false action and the flower fell into ruin…"
Beep
"I knew then that he would love you, forever- who could not? Some one so strong and so wise, yet so full of life and energy had to be loved forever, even beyond death and darkness…you were the light in so many of my darknesses, it was…ALL…of you who I was fighting for all the years of my life…You were my orchid…you were my dream…my… greatest of loves, and my… most cherished of dreams…"
beep
Tears began to flow from his face as the words stopped leaving his mind and began to leak from his trembling lips, yet still he wore a smile upon his lips, and though the woman beside him tried to object to his talking he spoke more, though his voice was shallow and filled with sorrow,
"Now…Let's just sit, and enjoy what's left of the sunset? Hm?"
Jean simply nodded as she moved the bed with the gentle wave of her hand to face the window where the rosy sun began to fall beneath the trees and the whole world glowed in a great golden flame.
Calcutta, India
A young girl cannot scream as two malevolent forces tear her sari in shreds, violently pushing and punching her body to the ground and one at a time began to force themselves upon her, laughing while they enjoy the fact that the girl beneath them was never born with the voice to scream…
Beep
She tries to fight the violation of her body with her nails, with her teeth, but nothing matters in the darkness of the cellar, her moans and squeals are all that come from her mouth as cruel laughter comes from a man who straddles her to keep her from moving the weight of his body crushing her ribs. She cannot breathe, she cannot think of anything to let the moment pass quickly, all she can feel is the tears leaving the ducts in her eyes and the silence that comes from her mouth, and she prays with violent tears to Shakti, who alone occupies her thoughts, and she prays, for strength, for power, for her voice to scream as loud as the thunder, to free herself from the violent womb that surrounds her. And as a body's weight is lifted from her chest all is silenced as if the entire world has become deaf…
Beep
Hong Kong, China
The young woman laughs with joy as the two young lovers tumble from the bed to the floor wrapped in the blue comforter that holds the heat of their passion; she smiles as he begins to place himself into her, and her mind races to all her happy memories of youth and childhood, placing this moment above all others. And her voice screamed with joy as she neared her peak- she knew love, she knew passion, she knew joy only at that moment.
Beep
Through the blinds of the small apartment a small speck of dawning light emerges and though the room is dark she begins to glow in the eyes of her lover, he smiles as he closes his own eyes. Her eyes gleam and the lights in the room begin to flicker with uneven surges of power, but the two forget everything that occurs around them; the heat begins to surmount as she reaches her peak, sweat pours down their bodies and becomes evaporated…
Beep
Outside, the world looks up to the height of the only apartment complex to have light shining from a small window that seems to dwarf the neon of Downtown Hong Kong…
Grand Canyon, Arizona
The lion looks at the frightened intruder with certain wisdom, a certain docile nature unbefitting the natural queen of the desert food chain. She bows her head to drink of the same creek and the boy looks on bewildered by her actions, he begins to rise from his knees to run through the dry brush away from seeming danger, and yet he stays half way between kneeling and running in awe. His adventurous spirit moves him to kneel again and reach out his arm, which will mostly likely be torn from his body at any moment, he closes his eyes fearing the inevitable feeling of teeth tearing his flesh and yet his fingers are touched by the feeling of bristle-like hair.
Beep
He opens his eyes and there lies his hand upon the head of the mountain lion as she looks deep into his own eyes with knowledge of some…familiarity; both are silent looking at each other as the sounds of the wild desert envelop them, only to be broken by the sound of a breaking twig and the pulling of a trigger…
Beep
Silence fills the room as no more words are needed between the two; not even in the recesses of their minds do they speak, for all that could have been said has been. A knock comes from the door and the woman called Jean Grey turns to open it but the gentle hand of the man in the bed takes her own and shakes his head gently, and as sudden as the knock came no other follows it and steps are heard returning to where they came from.
"It…is time…"
The ancient man says as the woman sits solemnly beside the bed, worry is upon her face but a smile is worn upon the other and for those last brief moments he looks as though he had not aged at all since she last saw him. The golden sunset is reflected in his face, as tears stream down his cheeks, like rivulets of golden water; and he smiles and the sound of the EKG machine fills the room with its shrill,
BeepOutside all who sit pacing or wringing their hands feel a sense of calm as the golden light from the falling sun fill almost the entire mansion with its soft autumnal light, and a breeze flows through the windows, as though the earth itself feels a sigh of solemnity.
BeepAnd to all these a simple phrase comes to their minds, as calming as it is inspiring for to each it touches a bit of what some men call the soul,
"Farewell, my dream, my soul, my greatest work…there is much to do still."
And thousands of miles away a young boy, covered in blood screams toward the sky in anger, vengeance and fear, as thunder strikes from a cloud covered sky, which was once clear and heavy with the late afternoon sun.
Beep
A cry goes out from an apartment building so close to the clouds as, in the middle of a thriving metropolis, one light out shines even the sunrise.
Beep
And for the first time a voice is heard, screaming out for purity and innocence lost amid the cracking of steel and stone…
"At 8:37 tonight the world said farewell to Professor Charles Xavier, a man who led one of the most profound revolutions of thought in the world since the time of Gandhi, Martin Luther King Jr. A man who through times of war and peace preached one message that was spread throughout the known world, a message of Unity…alone he brought down barriers between government and the rising minority known simply as Mutants- homo superior- and was at times mankind's only defense against both sides of the debate of mutant-human relations. Founder of the X-men, re-builder of Genosha, friend and confidant of politicians, religious leaders, legends and heroes alike…Now the world stands upon a new era, and a new generation of mutants will have to grow up never knowing the leadership of this one man…And the world looks to Xavier's School for Higher Learning and to the students he has taught in his long tenure as the world's unofficial teacher of peace, looking for answers in this new world without Xavier…"