Disclaimer: Of course, you do realize that I do not own the X-Men.
Time Frame: Post X-3
Summary: Songfic set to "When the Stars Go Blue" by Tim McGraw. Two months after the events of X-3, everyone's allowed themselves time to grieve and deal with their emotions…except for Logan and Ororo, who are haunted by nightmares of their lost friends, and must help each other to cope.
Dancing when the stars go blue.
Dancing when the evening fell.
Dancing in your wooden shoes.
In a wedding gown.
Dancing out on 7th street.
Dancing through the underground.
Dancing like a marionette.
Are you happy now?
Ororo Monroe had not allowed herself to sleep for the past two nights. The dreams, which she thought that she had banished by visiting the garden a month ago, had returned in full force, and this time she could not control them. They seized her mind even during her hours of consciousness, causing her to wander frequently from her work into the world of what could have been, what should be…what she would give anything to have once more.
The weather goddess had immersed herself in the day-to-day work involved in running a school; indeed, she buried herself beneath a mound of classes, paperwork, and stress. She could not afford to lose control on the job. After all, her work was all that she had, all that was keeping her sane. It was the only thing that could make her forget the past, if only for a few hours.
Whenever Ororo slept, the nightmares that plagued her only dealt with one thing: her weakness, her failure to see what had been right in front of her face and to use that vision to save two of the people whom she had loved the most dearly. Upon waking from these terrors, she always found that her cheeks were wet, her pillow stained with sorrow, her nose stopped up, and her eyes puffy. Crying made her feel that she had lost control of her emotions, of her body. And there was nothing that Ororo hated more than feeling out of control.
"Maybe I'll never sleep again. Maybe I can run myself right into the ground with fatigue and extra-grande Starbucks lattes," was the last thought that the weather witch remembered crossing her head. She recalled the way that the emblemed paper cup, full of steaming coffee, had wobbled in front of her eyes, then multiplied, and then gone black. Now, the coffee was nothing more than a brown stain on the once-perfect white carpet of her office, and Ororo felt the yearning for death more powerfully than she ever had. Instead of doing her good, her brief nap had left her miserable and shivering.
She retrieved her black leather jacket from the back of her chair, shrugged into it with the greatest of haste, and bolted from the room. Somewhere in the mansion, a clock struck twice. The sound barely reached Ororo, but the fact that it was two o'clock in the morning and that no one was likely to be out and about registered in her mind, and she didn't care; she didn't care who saw her running through the halls like a woman gone mad. All that she cared about was her destination, and what she must do when she got there.
xXx
Ororo fell to the ground in front of the twin headstones, each bearing only a name and a circled letter X. As soon as her body hit the grass, a lightning bolt pierced the once-sapphire sky, which had darkened with heavy clouds the minute that the weather witch had awoken. Ororo took no notice; her attention was monopolized by the two stones. With a shaky left hand, she reached out to touch the first one, running her index finger along the carved X, and then over the name that the headstone bore. She repeated this motion with the second stone, and then withdrew her hand quickly, using it to rub her right arm, which was covered in goose flesh.
Ororo's pearl-white teeth pierced the delicate skin of her bottom lip as she struggled to find words, the right words, any words at all. She swallowed and then opened her mouth, but nothing escaped her throat, so she simply closed her mouth and stared at the two headstones for the next five minutes, until, finally, the words just broke free from their resting place within her fear.
"I'm sorry…that I don't come and visit you more often. I…just…sometimes, I can convince myself that the two of you are simply…off on a vacation somewhere," she said, "and that you'll be coming back to us any day now. And…and I can live off of that for days at a time. Then something will shatter that illusion; I'll look at a picture, or think of some of the times that we had together, and that's when I know that it'll never happen, and that I'll never see either of you again…and all that I want to do is lie down right next to you and fade."
Ororo shook all over, and a sob caught in her throat, but she knew that she had to go on, or she would never find peace. Thunder rolled lightly in the distance.
"The dreams that I have of you are terrible. Some of them…some are beautiful; we're together, and full of life and joy, but they're still nightmares to me. They make me feel…like dying, and I lose what little control I have left over myself. Do you want to know what I was just dreaming of? It was a wedding reception, and we were all smiling and dancing, switching partners, and I switched from dancing with you, Scott…oh Goddess, you were so happy, and then I was dancing with you, Jean, and you looked so lovely with your hair done the way it was, and in your white wedding dress. And then you leaned in to whisper in my ear, with this big, conspiratorial smile on your face. 'It'll be your turn soon,' you told me. I think that I might have caught the bouquet…and then we switched again and you spun me right into the arms of…of…"
At this, her voice broke, and the tears that she had been fighting for weeks finally spilled over onto her cheeks. In perfect symphony with her emotions, as always, the weather broke down as well, sending droplets of rain to pound the earth, soaking into the soil, making the two headstones slick and shiny, and spattering the weather goddess, who paid no heed to them whatsoever. She simply lay upon the ground, bawling and beating the grass with her fists.
"WHY?" she yelled, "why do you send me these dreams, why do you do this to me? What are you trying to tell me? What do you want from me? WHAT DO YOU WANT?"
Ororo's sobs continued unabated, as did the rain, and, from several feet away from her, the figure who had been sitting in the tree and mourning since before she had even fallen into dreaming, let out a low growl of the purest agony, and continued to observe one of the only friends that he had left in the world as she poured out all of her pent-up grief.
