Her genesis is over. Her exodus has come.
The crescent moon sifted light down upon the dark stillness, almost entirely obscured by the ever-shifting clouds above. They looked heavy and dull against the silvery moonlight—like the whole weight of lifeless melancholy was gripping the black and starless canvas, tipping its contents into the white vapor, staining it a dark gray. And maybe there was thunder. Just short, distant rumbles. But it probably would go unheard through the loud, ominous howling of the biting wind.
And it stood, out in the open in a dead silence—the old, long-standing, almost forsaken church, identifiable only by the large, wooden cross above—overlooking deserted streets of darkest tar. Austere candlelight filtered through the many stained-glass windows of the manor-esque edifice, like holy gateways that seemed to lead straight into heaven.
Midnight. Maybe no one would be in the cathedral at this time of the night.
Marie couldn't help but breathe a sigh of unfilled relief as she stepped into the stone cathedral and pulled the heavy oak wood doors shut behind her. The church was empty, desolate—just like how she pictured it from the outside in the darkness. Soft radiance illuminated from the many still-burning candles placed on the alter and benches, distorting her sanctuary. She could almost hear the fire burning away at the wicks in the hush. The light was beautiful.
(I) Dixitque Deus: Fiat lux. Et facta est lux.
The still quietness, the beautiful dark windows which she could see nothing but black when looking through… This was her runaway asylum. A sanctuary unknown to her. The big cathedral, lonely and cold at this time of night, echoed with her silent footsteps, and she couldn't help but feel that maybe she was defiling this holy place somehow with every step she took, every breath she made, every time she glanced at one of the stone statues of the saints.
Shivering, she pulled her dark green hood further over her head. As though to shield the place from her very presence.
She was hesitant at first, not really knowing why she was here. She sought something. Something that she thought that maybe this place could offer. And she could've been right.
Making her way slowly down the aisle to the front, aware that she was the only soul in the hallowed confine, she halted by one of the dark benches and gingerly sat. The white streak of her hair was hidden and barely visible under her hood.
"My redeemer and my saviour…" she whispered into the silence, not knowing what else to say as she got on her knees, kneeling down at the pews and looking to the front where the highest alter sat.
It was then that her mind was suffocated by scattered thoughts of what was and what could've been.
Here I am now
Where darkness meets light
Fires aflame and frozen nights
Where is this place and where are you?
Marie flipped her hood back and her eyes were shone with reflected specks of luminosity. Maybe there was still a last judgment left for her. Was she eligible to be adjudicated?
As she knelt, her head bowed, she wondered with unworldly silence. It seemed everyone had been judged, and maybe misjudged. Everyone apart from her. Every misguided soul, every faithful person, everyone she knew. They had their ruling. She did not.
Once upon a time, she had been happy. Until the curse came along and kicked in. It felt like such a long time ago, now. And she had other things to agonize about. She had eradicated the curse within her just a few days before, and there was nothing to fear anymore. But as soon as she made her decision to seek out the cure; as soon as she felt the needle inject the alien substance into her wrist, she couldn't help but feel as though she had done what the ancient crusaders did—eliminating something unwelcome. Eliminating non-believers.
"It's what I wanted."
It was what she wanted. Wasn't it? Wasn't it? She knew she could never really tell Bobby of her faltering confidence. She could ask herself the same question for hours on end and would never truly get an answer. Whilst she ran to hide, the world fell to pieces. A battle was fought. And neither side really won. There were losses to both. Losses to everyone. Losses to her.
I will never say I am sorry
So goodbye, goodbye
My dreams have wilted
Nothing matters when everything fades to gray
All the untimely deaths. All of them uncalled for, unnecessary, unwanted.
She thought of the dead body of Jean Grey, carried back into the mansion by Logan, so limp and pale—and wondered if she had really felt no remorse for the others she'd killed before she herself was put to death. There was no bitterness in Marie towards Jean. Or maybe there was. But only towards the Phoenix.
So many had died to stop the Brotherhood. So many had died to stop the Phoenix. So many had died on the island of Alcatraz. All because of the fabrication of an almighty 'cure', set to deliver freedom to mutantkind.
She had taken that fabrication. But she had felt no deliverance.
Marie stared into a single sliver of orange candle light. It burned into her eyes and she felt its heat radiate softly, even though it stood so very far away from where she knelt.
Here I am now
Where darkness meets light
Fires aflame and frozen nights
Where is this place and where are you?
And then there was Charles Xavier. The saviour to mutant children everywhere, you could say. And he was gone too. Not a trace of his body to be buried. Blood, flesh, bone… His was an empty grave. Blood, flesh, bone… All consumed, turned to ash. To be blown away by the wind.
She heard the stories, told to her by Storm and Logan, how he had died. "You shouldn't have died at her hands." Her quiet voice echoed hollowly around the catacomb. And again, she felt resentment toward the Phoenix. Maybe there was someway that they could've saved him. Maybe. But then again, Marie never knew what the Phoenix could do. She never saw her. Not after her supposed death at the barren Alkali Lake. Not until her dead body was brought back to be buried.
Charles Xavier had been a guide, someone who had given her a life worth living again. Without him, she would never have been taken in to the school. Without him, none of the X-Men would have any direction to go. Marie D'Ancanto had shed quiet tears for the deceased man, not that anyone knew.
The dead don't walk
The dead don't speak
So why does it feel like you do?
Maybe you're not departed as of yet
Scott Summers' demise had been almost forgotten. His eulogy went almost unheard during his funeral. And Marie had almost no tears to shed for the man. Words were hardly exchanged between them and she felt shameful for it. It was true that she hardly knew him for what he was. Just a lone man who loved his murderer deeply. But she grieved for him, just like everyone else did. Just like everyone else did… And she hoped that he could see her now, from wherever he was - as a ghost maybe - see her and hear her praying and grieving for the man she never really knew.
Your life has gone without a trace
And words have not been spoken
You did right and not wrong
The flesh and bones are broken
There was a life-sized statue of a stone angel, to her far right. Maybe it was the angel Gabriel. The seraphim messenger. Marie couldn't tell. It was her very first time in a church, that night. She knew nothing of angels. Just like she knew nothing of what had happened to John Allerdyce after he left with the Brotherhood.
Bobby had told her what she never wanted to hear, after he came back from the island of Alcatraz. He had told her that Pyro had died when the Phoenix went insane and started to destroy everything. Well, he had said he wasn't completely certain that he was gone. But the way he spoke to her about it… it was as though he believed John was dead. And it almost made her believe it too.
St. John Allerdyce. Was he really that much of a saint? Marie couldn't help but smile wryly as she gazed over at the brightly lit candles again. Fire.
Zippo lighters, exploding cigarettes, blazing cop cars… Fire was his best friend, it seemed. Because he never thought he had anyone to rely on. So he befriended the flames.
Was his death the atonement for his sin? His sin of betrayal and treachery?
No. There was no sin. Just like there was no death. He couldn't be dead. He just couldn't. Marie felt hot tears threaten to slip from her lashes and down her cheek. Why was everyone dying? Why was everyone fading away to be forgotten? Why? No, John could not be dead. He cannot be dead. He will not fade away, he will not lay forgotten.
But he already was. Everyone forgot about him the moment he walked away from the X-Men. Everyone, even Bobby. But not her. Marie never forgot him. Never.
Here I am now
Where darkness meets light
Fires aflame and frozen nights
Where is this place and where are you?
Her tears escaped her eyes and were flowing freely now.
He had told her once, out right and in broad daylight, back at the mansion.
"I think I've fallen in love with you, Marie."
And what he said had made her laugh hard. Surely he wasn't serious… Surely not. But the way he said it, under the typical nonchalance… it was like a true confession. And now that Marie thought about it, maybe there was some truth under his words.
He had laughed too, with her. Told her he was only pulling her leg. Maybe, maybe… there could have been dejection in his laughter. But she couldn't remember, really.
"I think I've fallen in love with you, Marie."
Had he honestly told her how he felt about her at that time?
Well maybe he had. Maybe he hadn't. She would never know, now that he was probably gone forever.
Forever, forever, forever
It is longer than you think
Once you've lost yourself to time
Your faith will shatter the link
More of her tears welled up and fell to the stone floor like droplets of sorrow.
And then she heard it. The faint, indistinct clinking of rosary beads from somewhere within the stonewalled cathedral. The sound was sharp and crystalline to her ears in the cloistered vicinity and maybe she mistook it for something else. Or maybe it was just part of her imagination—conjured by an overworked, exhausted mind. Wasn't this place deserted?
Nevertheless, she turned to search the house of worship wearily, vaguely aware of the loose drops of tears sliding freely down her cheeks. Her eyes landed on a figure standing just behind a row of wooden pews where the million shards of candlelight couldn't quite reach. From what she could make out, the stranger was wearing long, white robes that seemed not out of place in this holy church. A big, unornamented crucifix hung from his neck. Simple yet beautiful.
"I'm sorry," the priest said quickly, and for a moment, Marie didn't quite understand what he was saying. His voice sounded strange and foreign to her ears. "I didn't mean to intrude. I usually leave the night-comers alone to their own personal prayers. But ven I saw you enter, mein freund, I couldn't help it…"
And at first she thought that the shadows were too dark in veiling the stranger's face, making it almost impossible to make out. But she finally realized now why she didn't hear any footsteps from his approach.
"That's okay, Father…" Marie replied, and was almost ashamed when she realized that she had forgotten this man's name. The very man who had saved her life so many months ago from falling to her death. "I apologise too. For being here. I know I am no Catholic."
His blue fist closed around the rosary in his palm and a light, muffled rattle of beads resounded throughout the empty chamber.
"It is not a sin to seek a place for prayer," he replied. "As long as you believe." And then maybe he noticed her tears, for he then asked, "Vas ist wrong?"
Marie tried to shrug it off, although she knew that everything was wrong.
"It's nothing," she replied, "I'm… just here for something."
For something. Peace. Solitude. A haven. For something. For forgiveness.
The priest smiled warmly, as though he understood what she was really trying to say.
"Vell, then I hope that you find vat you are seeking, child."
"Thank you, Father… uh…"
"Wagner," he smiled, "Kurt Wagner. You forgot."
"It's been so long."
"It has."
Marie turned back to the front of the church where the statue and the alter stood.
Ideo non resurgent impii in judicio.
Neque peccatores in concilio justorum.
Therefore the ungodly shall not stand in the judgment.
Nor sinners in the congregation of the righteous. - (II)
"I hope you find vat you are seeking, child…"
Marie wiped away her remaining tears, which stained her cheeks. And she stood up from the wooden bench, unaware of the pain on her knees for kneeling so long.
Here I am now
Where darkness meets light
Fires aflame and frozen nights
Where is this place and where are you?
She knew, as she felt the candles searing her skin, that she would never ever find what she was seeking.
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-A/N-: Yet again, angst. I really like this piece. Took me awhile to get my head around each verse and each stanza that I littered through the ficlet. Hmm... I should turn it into a song one day...
PLEASE LEAVE A REVIEW.
(I) Dixitque Deus: Fiat lux. Et facta est lux. -- And God said, let there be light: and there was light. (Genesis Chapter 1)
I thought this was fitting for the symbolism of the candles in the church.
(II) Therefore the ungodly shall not stand in the judgment.
Nor sinners in the congregation of the righteous. -- (Psalms Chapter 1)