Disclaimer: I don't own the X-Men. Nor do I own Basil Martin.
A/N: Here it is! The prologue of the not-so-long-awaited sequel to By the Grace of Angels. Some prior reading is required, because if you haven't read the first one, you will be lost and confused. This'll probably be all I put up for a while, so if I don't update for a week or two, don't lose faith. I'm just writing out as much as I can without pressure until NaNoWriMo. So have fun! And does this mean that some people will retract their death threats? I'd sleep easier...
Prologue – Aftermath
It was the morning after the memorial service. Despite Storm's protection of the garden, a cold wind was blowing through the hedges, and there was frost on the flowers. In the predawn silence, Basil Martin sat on the grass, staring blankly at the headstone before him. He had tried to sleep, but he had tossed and turned, and had finally given up and gone down to the kitchen for a snack.
He had regretted that decision as soon as he had walked through the kitchen door. All he could think of were the times he and Theresa had met there in the wee hours of the morning when neither of them could sleep. He had always poked fun at her for eating things like macaroni and ham sandwiches, even while he was warming up pizza. He could almost hear her saying, "And who eats pizza for breakfast?"
Somehow, Basil found that his feet carried him to the garden. It was where he always went to relax and think. It was just that he didn't want to go there this morning. If he went into the garden, he'd be reminded even more forcibly of Theresa, not just by memories, but by seeing the gravestone, solid, undeniable proof that his best friend was dead.
You couldn't call it a gravestone, he decided, staring at it. It could only be a gravestone if here was a grave for it to mark, and there wasn't. There couldn't be. No one had been able to find her body. He had looked, and so had Chris, and so had everyone else. But they still hadn't found her. There was no sign that she had ever been there. Until they found her, there would be no grave. There would just be a stone. A marker. A reminder of what had happened.
Looking up, Basil saw the sky lightening behind the mansion, throwing the damage to the mansion into sharp relief. As he watched the fingers of light creep up past the jagged, ruined walls, he couldn't help but wonder: Why had she done it? Why did she go back? She had been safe. What had made her run back to the burning building? There was no one in there. They had checked. There was no sign of anyone else in the mansion. All the students were accounted for. Even Sophie had gotten out safely, though he doubted that Theresa would have risked her life for a dog.
There was one thought that refused to leave him alone. He couldn't ignore it. He didn't want it to be true, but he felt like it was. And it scared him. What if she had gone back in for him? What if she hadn't known he was safe, and had gone back to look for him? What if it had been his fault that she had died? He didn't want to think about it. But that was all he could think about.
Tortured by his thoughts, Basil looked away from the memorial stone and watched the sunrise. He found no comfort there, however. The sunlight glinted on the flowers around him, and the frost started to melt. As he watched the water drip off the petals, he felt like the world itself was weeping.
"A faction of the radical Christian group CAMD have been charged with arson and manslaughter in connection with the fire at Xavier's School for Gifted Youngsters last Sunday. None of the accused have denied the charges, claiming that they do the work of God. Several of them have said that they are disappointed that they claimed the life of only one victim."
Chris reached behind his head to the table, picked up the remote, and switched the television off. He didn't know why he was watching the news. Force of habit, he decided. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He didn't want to think about the fire, or the one life it claimed. He didn't want to be reminded that his sister was dead.
He rolled off the couch and stood up. Then he stepped out into the hall. He didn't want to think about the disaster, but he couldn't avoid it. Not when he could still see the places where the ceiling had fallen. Not when he could see the missing piece of the banister. Not when he could see the scorch marks on the walls.
The fire trucks had gotten there in time to stop the blaze from spreading beyond the classrooms and front of the mansion. The living spaces and bedrooms were still intact, but the classrooms were burned to the ground, and the front stairs were too burned to climb without falling through them. Once the mansion settled down again, they would be fixed, and everything would be rebuilt, but for now, it would stay the way it was.
Chris looked up at the second floor. Then he spread his wings and leaped off the ground. Within seconds, he was standing at the top of the charred staircase. He started walking down the hall, looking at the scorched walls and burned doors. All the people in this part of the building would have been moved to the back, he knew. At least, they would be until the repair work was done.
Suddenly, he started running down the hall. He ran faster and faster, then leaped and launched himself out the broken window at the end of the hall. He folded his wings and dove, watching the ground come closer. What would it be like, he wondered, to not rise away from it? Would it be what his sister had felt, when she had burned?
With a flourish, he spread his wings and looped upwards again, close enough to the grass to touch. He didn't want to find out. He didn't want to know.
Willow didn't know why. She didn't understand. Why did her best friend have to die? Why did she have to be a mutant? Why did her life have to be turned upside down? Why? What had gone wrong? She didn't know. Nothing made sense anymore. Had anything ever made sense? She didn't know. Everything was blurring. Nothing was as it should be. And there was nothing she could do.
Why? It was a question that held no answer.