Titel: Worshipped and Cured
Author: Satansbratn
Disclaimer: I don't own X-Men and don't try to make money with this story.
Timeline: X-Men3: The Last Stand
Rating: K+
Summary: Would you sacrifice a dream to be happy? Would you sacrifice your love to be free? Not everybody would do so, but she.
Authors Note: I'd like to thank Kerschi-Puky who betaread the story for me. I couldn't have done it without you. Thank you so much!
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Consternation. Grief. Horror.
I could see all these things in the students faces; and in the teachers' faces, too. I crossed the halls slowly, anxious to hold my mask of composure and calmness up. I had to be there for them, although I'd rather liked to barricade myself in my room. I had to talk to them, but I didn't know how.
'X-Men please come to my office!' After this telepathic request I turned around to flee the hall. It was this moment in which my look fell on Marie.
The girl sat in a corner, legs pulled up against her body, and a lonely tear slid down her cheek - falling to the floor.
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Why? Why had she done this? She had been happy, right? Yes, she was sure of that. She had loved to teach, had loved her powers. And now... Now there wouldn't be another day in class with the children asking questions and her explaining the second world war. They wouldn't look up at her anymore; wouldn't admire her strength anymore. Never again. She wasn't one of them anymore.
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Slowly I cast my gaze over the team gathered in my office. As usual my last gaze was meant for the leather armchair to my right - but it was empty. There weren't these big brown eyes that would survey me with concern; not this smile that would let me forget all problems. She was gone; and she wouldn't be a part of this circle anymore - not like this.
I sighed and focused my X-Men. Scott sat in a chair before my desk and seemed clearly upset. I didn't need to read his mind to know what was going on inside his head. He asked himself, if he could have been able to prevent her decision. Logan stood aside in a corner and chomped fierce on his cigar. He seemed blank like ever. Hank stood behind a chair and surveyed me. He knew how I felt about; her and it seemed that he wanted to decide how I really felt. But even if I had wanted to, I couldn't describe how I felt. One of my X-Men choose a life as a 'normal' human. Why? Why her? After all, she had been the whole time the most vigorous opponent against the cure. I remembered clearly the discussion we had the day Worthington Labs spoke about it on TV.
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The discovery of a cure for the X-Gen had been announced on TV only a moment before. She and I were in my office and discussed the new situation with Hank when Marie entered the room in excitement. „Is it true? They can cure us?" Her voice was full of hope.
I turned towards her and tried to smile encouraging. „Yes Rouge, it seems to be true."
It was that moment Ororo spoke, and when she looked directly into my eyes. I could see something I hadn't seen in her eyes before: sorrow and a glimpse of... hope.
„No, Professor. They can't cure us. You wanna know why?" Ororo got up and went towards Rouge, putting her hand onto her shoulder. „Because there's nothing to be cured. Nothing is wrong with you." She turned around sharply and her gaze wandered across us until it rested on me. „Or any of us for that matter."
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It must have been so hard for her to say these words. If I only had known sooner what was going on inside of her. Maybe I would have been able to help her. But she wouldn't talk to me - wouldn't speak about her problems. There had always been the other on her mind - not she herself.
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„Charles?" Hanks voice dragged me out of my thoughts and I tried to control my facial features as I looked at him and the others; but inside raged a storm. I looked directly into his eyes as I asked him what mattered now. „Did you find her?" My voice was low and yet hopeful.
Hank lowered his gaze and shook his head. „As if she's swallowed by the earth." He whispered. When he realised me disappointed facial expression, he fished a letter out of his pocket. „I found this on top of her drawer."
I took the letter from him and noticed that my hands were shaking. My name was written on the envelope - in her neat handwriting. My heart thundered and I focused the letter that hard that I didn't notice Hank shooing the others out of the room.
I hesitated for a moment; but after a couple of secondes I opened the envelope and hold a piece of paper in my hands - containing a text written in narrow lines.
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, when you're reading this letter I'll be gone. I know that you don't understand my decision and ask yourself why I've done this. I just wanted to be happy. The cure is my chance to live a true life. I'm finally free. I'm no longer held in a gilded cage; no longer any emotions I cannot show. Forever yours,
Dear Charles,
You always said your powers are gifts, and told us we should be proud of what we are. So tell me, how can I be proud if every tear I cry causes a monsoon; when the anger I feel raises a tornado?
Every gift has a dark side, and my gift is a danger to everyone I love and hold dear. Tell me, how am I able to live if my weakness costs the life of a friend?
Charles, I know you're disappointed of me. Maybe you're asking yourself if you could have hold me back. No, you couldn't. I'm finally free, Charles. It's raining, although I'm laughing joyfully.
I'm living my life as it should have been for years. Please forgive me for being happy.
Ororo Munroe
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I starred at the letter and I could hear her words in my head. „I'm no longer held in a gilded cage." That's what she saw in her powers? A burden, a curse?
Rereading her last words again and again, I could feel tears welling up in my eyes. As the first tears dropped at the paper I let my fingers stroke her name.
I mourned that night. I mourned Ororo: a confident, a goddess.
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Her short hair surrounded her face like hit by an gentle breeze. But her usually bright smile was shadowed by an uptight expression. Her long fingers fiddled relentless with the fringes of her silk scarf. She gazed nervously through the big room and finally caught a framed picture standing on the old oak desk.
As she looked at the people in the picture, a light smile seemed to touch her face. The picture showed an elder man in a wheelchair and a young woman, who both talked to each other, and seemed to enjoy their company. The sky over their heads was blue and the sun shone bright.
A soft voice interrupted her thoughts. „Welcome home, my dear."
Startled she turned around to see the man from the picture entering the room. „You know, this isn't my home anymore." She answered - her eyes cold.
„So, what do you want Xavier? Can't you just let me live my life?"
„Ororo, please..." He was silent for a long moment, searching for an answer. His voice was low, as he eventually spoke. „The children keep asking about you. They... we miss you. ... I miss you." He looked at her waiting for an replay, hoping she would return home - back to her family, to him.
She sat there quietly watching him. He looked so sad, so broken, and it was her fault. Again she had caused him pain. Maybe it wasn't too late? Maybe she could return and have a happy life? In his arms, where she belonged.
Oh, she would do everything to see this secret smile upon his face once more. Grief never suited him.
But... telling him that he was right and that she wasn't really gone would be a lie. He knew it and she knew it as well.
Shaking her head Ororo raised slowly from the leather armchair at the right side of the desk.
„It is over, Charles. I've made my decisions." As she turned to leave the room their eyes met each other for a moment. All Ororo could see in his eyes was love - for her. But there was also a glimpse of sorrow. Sorrow that he had to let her leave.
Before the door closed Ororo looked at him for one last time. She whispered „I love you.", and disappeared like the winds she used to command.
The heavy door shut close without a noise, the same way she disappeared from her life. A life full of fights, hate and fear. Never again. She wasn't one of them anymore. She was free.
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The end