Awakening Chapter 2
The hall of Xavier's School For Gifted Youngsters, with all it's occupants, was draped in black. Black curtains, black dresses and suits, black shoes. A camera following the long walkway between the masses of chairs either side of the central space would have seen the same sight each row – each person with their heads bowed, dressed in black.
Though not all were mourning the loss of someone precious.
Her azure eyes bright with unshed tears, Ororo Munroe glared ferociously at the back of the head in front of her, a head which was currently shaking with laughter along with the two on either side. Clenching her hands in her lap, Ororo inhaled sharply as a muffled giggle resounded from the front, her fingers forming fists that she imagined pounding into the owner of the giggle, and the man who stole her best friend from her, and the pilot of the crash that took her parents away and -
"'Ro," a soft voice echoed from her right, dark with pain and warning, a hand moving over and gripping one fist tightly, "stop."
Ducking her head to the right, Ororo let her eyes rest on the black clad form of her best friend, Jean Grey. "But they're laughing," she hissed angrily, venomously, "J- He's – They're d-dead and they're laughing."
Jean's green eyes narrowed in anger as she looked at the culprits too, and a strand of red hair fell into her face as she took a deep breath. "And when someone they loved is dead, we can laugh."
Ororo choked on her indignation, recognising the flare of the Pheonix in Jean's eyes. "Jean..."
Green eyes without any trace of flame snapped to her, and Jean blinked slowly. "I- Ororo?"
Ororo knew she looked a sight. She knew she was pale, and shaking, and that for two weeks her eyes had been permanently glowing with a hint of white eerie light and that the weather could go from sunshine to hail within two seconds.
She knew, and she didn't care.
Taking a deep breath, she looked away from Jean's searching gaze and cast her eyes around the sombre hall, cloaked as it was in gloom. As she looked, she noticed some who, though they wore the black of mourning, were talking, whispering amongst themselves, not caring that the faces if a destroyed family looked out at them from the far wall, forever caught in laughter.
Feeling a sob rise in her throat, she choked it down, closing her eyes.
He's still here, he's not dead.
He can't be dead.
This isn't real, this isn't happening, THIS CAN'T BE HAPPENING!
A warmth touched hers, and Ororo let out a gasp as she imagined James Howlett, her best friend, sitting next to her, hand clutching hers with that familiar warmth and smile on his face, his hazel eyes laughing at her as if the past two weeks had merely been an elaborate prank like he, Kurt and Remy were always pulling on Scott.
She opened them to find thin air.
The warmth in her hand faded away, and she let a sob rise in her throat as she stood, feeling gazes drawn to her solitary, pale figure as she rushed out of the room, unable to face the harsh, cold reality that her life had become.
The laughing eyes of James Howlett, trapped on film in the family photograph above a simple wreath of remembrance followed her out the door.