Disclaimer: I own nothing…they own everything. I am making no money off of this story. This is just for fun…
I created Maya, and I don't know if she'll be sticking around much longer…maybe, maybe not. Grief has a funny way of working itself out on the written page. No matter how frustrating it may be, no matter the feelings that it dredges up, it helps in the end. A weird catharsis, I think… I love you, Dad…wherever you may be.
Those of you who've read the first three installments know what this is about. If you haven't…please read them, or this will make zero sense.
It's probably about as exciting as watching paint dry, but there is quite a bit of Romany lore in this one. For those of you who actually read this, if you are interested in researching the Rom, the Patrin Web Journal is a wonderful and informative read. There are also many web links that will give you a lot of info on the Rom, including spoken language translations.
There's also a LOT of talking. I'm not the biggest "action fic" girl, being that I'm still new at this. Hopefully, my dialogue won't make you snore…
My universe is strange; it contains elements of both the Comicverse and the TVverse. I have tried to be true to the characters, taking the best elements of each. I gave Kurt the spiritual quality that is missing in the current cartoon incarnation. Kept the humor, though. I always liked him better in the comics...personal opinion (sorry!). Beast stays the same, but he's pre-Lab accident; Bobby's got a deep side in there somewhere…one that I may develop further if I decide to do this again. Beast is the only one who makes an appearance in this chapter…I'm sorry, it just worked out that way!
Read and review please. Let me know if I should keep writing…for those of you who have already…thank you (that means you, PallaPlease).
The End of The Matter, Pt.4
Late December, New York City
"So truthfully, Michelle…how are you doing?"
Michelle stared at Hank
sitting there in the armchair across from her. She sighed, and took a seat on
the couch, nervously played with the fringe on one of the throw pillows for a
moment, and said:
"Truthfully, Hank…I've been
better…"
There, the words were out.
She had said it: I'm feeling God-awful, Hank…like someone's been kicking me
in the gut for the past week. Hell, longer than that…ever since Gram got sick.
Ever since she told me that she didn't want me to heal her. I'm on the edge,
the ragged edge, barely hanging on. Crying jags every day, not sleeping, barely
eating…He has to be able to see that. He's a doctor, after all, as well as a
trusted friend, and I can't fool him…
"If I may be so bold as to
say it: You look like something that the proverbial cat dragged in. It is with
the utmost amount of restraint that I am keeping myself from checking your
pulse to see if you are, in fact, still alive. To put it point blank…you look
like hell, kid." He was using his "I'm a scientist" voice, but the worry crept
through anyway, lacing the words with an urgency that he could not disguise.
She laughed, a sharp, bitter
sound, and said,"Let me guess, Kurt sent you… I had kind of hoped that he
wouldn't. I tried to tell him last night. I mean, I just…I…just…wanted to be
left alone. At least, I thought I did…this is difficult as it is without
dragging anyone else into it. No offense meant, Hank…"
"None taken, Michelle. It is
never easy to admit you are having trouble… coping, particularly with your
abilities. You are, if I may say it, very used to taking care of yourself as
well as others…"
"Right…and I can usually
deal with things. Usually. And I thought I could deal with this as well. But
lately…the past few days…I'm not surprised Kurt picked up on it. I'm not
feeling like much of an actress lately. I don't feel like much of anything
except shit."
Hank looked at her, sitting
alone on the worn sofa, and his heart ached. She was so frail, so fragile
anyway; a veritable emotional sponge, really, and this situation only made her
seem more fragile. This wouldn't be easy…she seemed to be in a bit of a
downward spiral and he didn't know if he could pull her out. Still, as a Doctor
and a friend, he had to try…
"Michelle, you do know that
Kurt is only looking out for your best interests. He is worried about
you, as are we all. And, truth be told, he was not the only one who sent me.
You failed to completely fool Charles last night whilst on the phone. He said
that he could pick up on your distress all the way from the mansion!"
"Telepathy by phone? Now that's
talent," Michelle laughed dryly, shaking her tangled mop of hair out of her
eyes. " I'll have to see if he can teach me that trick when this is all…all
over. I don't suppose that it works for empathy, though. He hasn't had much
luck improving my empathic abilities lately..."
Is that a note of bitterness or self-pity that I 'm detecting? Hmmm…introspection at a time like this is a bad thing for her, being that her abilities are tied directly into her immune system…Okay, McCoy, first things first…get her out of this funk. Unless I am way off my mark, she is ready to talk about her situation…God, she looks like crap, poor kid.
She sat on the couch,
slumped over. Normally, she was a bright, if somewhat quiet presence: cerebral,
contained, but still a vital, vibrant soul. Not today…today she looked like a
burnt out shell, a husk of herself. There were dark circles under her eyes and
a swollen look that indicated she'd had at least one good episode of crying
already today; her skin had a dull, sallow look to it, and her hair was a
tangled mop of black ringlets. She was fidgeting nervously, twirling a strand
of hair around her finger and biting her lower lip. She looked worried…or
scared…
Not of me, I hope…
The quiet stretched between
them until it became almost unbearable. Finally, Michelle sighed, looked at him
with those big dark eyes, and said:
"Can we go somewhere? To,
you know…talk? Much as I hate the idea of pouring my guts out to anyone, I'm
smart enough to know that I'm in pretty bad shape emotionally right now. I
guess I really should talk about…everything that's going on, before it totally
eats me up…before I go dancing on a ledge…sailing off a roof… Hank… " She
looked at the big man sitting across from her, looked down at her feet, and
said in a choking whisper, "I need help…"
Don't…cry…do…not…cry. Not in front of him…not in front of anyone…oh, to hell with it…
Hank got up from his
armchair and moved over to the couch. He sat down next to her, and put an
oversized arm around her slender shoulders. He half expected her to pull away,
but she didn't even try, "Michelle…" he said softly, "If you would like
to, we can talk about this right here, right now, in the safety of your
Grandmother's home. I am no expert… I am not a psychologist, but I do know what
it feels like to grieve. And I know that at a time like this you need, more
than anything, a friend who is willing to listen to you. If you are
willing, I would like to be that friend. I want to help you…Will you allow me
to?"
She looked up at him, this
massive teddy bear of a man that she had come to love and trust during her time
at the Institute. A trusted friend…that's what he is...
Then she nodded "yes". He
looked down at her, a tiny, fragile child who did her best to appear strong and
stable to the outside world…and he thought of her "codename": Maya. It means
"love" or "affection" in some Hindu languages, but in most it means "illusion".
I had never thought of it before today…but it fits her personality well…
She ran a shaking hand
through her mop of hair, and said quietly. "This…is very difficult for me,
Hank. I thought about it last night, when I was trying to get to sleep. I…you
said it earlier…I'm so used to helping other people that when I need
help…it's hard for me to go to someone else. I'm so…old inside; I always have
been. I've never really acted my age, and I'm so used to having people
depending on me…it's really, really hard to be in the opposite position. For
me, it feels like a weakness and it's bringing out some of my worst traits…"
"Which are?" asked Hank
kindly.
She sat and thought for a
moment, "I'm stubborn, for one thing. I have shut everyone that I love out of
this situation because…" She stopped, as if searching for the right words…
"Because…why?"
"Because I've never let
anyone see me like this before. I've never let them see me vulnerable. I am
used to being strong emotionally, and they all depend on me for that strength.
I guess it kind of makes up for the lack of physical strength, in a way. They all know that they're going to have to
bail my ass out if it comes to a physical fight, but I'll help them with the
internal stuff afterwards, you know? That's what I do…they go kick bad guy butt
and I just…clean up the mess. I don't mind, really, its kind of my job…always
has been since I went Empathic. But sometimes…it gets real old…like I just want
to go hide somewhere real quiet and not have to feel anything…Maybe I'm
just being selfish. Scratch that…I know I'm being selfish! And I've been a bit
of a bitch…and I haven't been a very good friend, and…am I boring you with my
mindless drivel?"
Hank laughed, a surprisingly
light sound considering how huge he was, then he said," Nay fair lady…drivel on
if it makes you feel better. I'm just happy that you are willing to communicate
with me, though I think you're being a bit hard on yourself."
"Hmmm…maybe, maybe not. I've
pushed away anyone who wanted to help me. I shouldn't have done that…I think I
have an easier time talking to you about this than I do the students, even
Kurt. I mean, you're so…centered and focused all the time, which helps me stay
focused, too. I'm seeing things a lot more clearly, not putting up my defenses
like I would with one of the students." She sat up and looked around the room,
clearly searching for something…or someone, then said, "Not to detract from our
conversation, but I should really see what the cats are up to…they're being
entirely too quiet…"
"Ah, yes, you mentioned that
they were 'highly caffeinated'. Do I dare ask what happened?"
"Well, I sort of fell asleep
on the kitchen floor this morning, and…they drank my cup of coffee. Trust me,
Felix and Oscar on a caffeine high is not a good thing…I should look for
them, make sure they haven't eaten the curtains yet."
Hank laughed, shaking his
head at the thought of java laced cats, and said, "If you don't mind, I'll
think I'll stay here in the safety of the living room."
"You mean, the relative
safety of the living room. The little monsters could be lying in wait until I
leave the room, ready to pounce on you." She was openly grinning now, and
though she looked like a shadow of her former self, Hank found hope in the
expression.
"Fear not, m'lady…it will
take more than a couple of nefarious felines to break me. After all, it
couldn't be any worse than dealing with Kurt and Bobby on a daily basis…could
it?"
"Oh, Hank, you haven't met
Felix and Oscar yet…they've made grown men cry. Seems they don't like sharin'
thar wimmen. They attack just about every guy who walks in the door…"
Hank's eyebrows rose in an
expression of pure incredulous surprise. "A bit overprotective, eh? Did they
include the Professor and Kurt on their hit list?"
Seems I remember Kurt talking about the cats, and how they kept staring at him through the whole recruitment visit. I don't remember the Professor mentioning the dynamic duo, though…Jean and Ororo thought they were absolutely adorable; Scott was scared stiff…I think that was the second visit, if I am not mistaken…
Michelle, who was in the
kitchen by now, called back, "Well, they didn't physically attack them,
although Oscar kept batting at Kurt's tail, and Felix kept sitting directly
behind Scott on the sofa, just hovering over him. I don't think they bothered
the Professor at all. I don't think he would have tolerated getting pounced
on…Come to think of it, I wonder if TP works on animals?"
Henry had gotten up from the
sofa and was looking at some of the pictures on the walls and tables. He had
not met Saril Villovich himself, but he had gotten a description of her from
the Professor after the initial visit to recruit Michelle…he had created a mental
picture of her in his mind, and was surprised to see that it did not in any way
match up with the woman in the pictures. He had imagined a strong, steely,
queen-like woman, while the lady in the pictures was only a shade smaller than
Michelle, and just as delicately featured.
He picked up a fairly recent
picture of Michelle and her Grandmother. They were leaning together, and both
smiling, a cat in each lap. Hank was surprised to see the expression of love on
the older woman's face: from what he had heard, Michelle's grandmother was a
strict, unbending, and devoutly religious woman, not unlike an old
schoolteacher with her wooden ruler…
"That one's my favorite",
said a soft voice behind him, and he suppressed the urge to jump. "We both look
so happy there. Looking at that picture reminds me of how she used to be, a
vibrant, tough, feisty little old woman who loved her granddaughter fiercely.
It helps to look at it…helps to remind me…because there isn't much left of her
now."
"Tell me about her…if you
don't mind, I would like to hear…"
Michelle took the picture,
and sat down on the couch. Hank sat next to her again, then looked around the
room for a moment," I take it the little scoundrels are still AWOL?"
"Oh yeah…they're probably
holed up somewhere, just waiting to get us. They'll come out eventually;
although I'm surprised they haven't launched a sneak attack against you by
now…"
"Perhaps they know a true
dominant male when they see one," he joked lightly. She took the bait, and
laughed, a bit more warmly this time, "Oh Hank, are you emulating Logan now?
The Manliest Alpha-Male this side of the Rockies? I thought you had more
self-confidence than that! If I wasn't so tired, I'd smack you upside the head
with a wet noodle just to set you straight…"
"No need, Michelle…I am in
no way tempted to idolize Logan."
"Thank God, now I can
finally sleep at night…"
They both shared a laugh
reminiscent of their times in the Med Lab, then sat in comfortable silence for
a moment before Michelle spoke up:
"Maybe it would help if you
actually met her, saw her for yourself…it's almost time for visiting hours
anyway…although I've got to warn you, there will probably be a lot of people
there today. The elders in the Kalderash tribe that Gram belongs to will,
without a doubt, be visiting today. In fact, they're probably already at the
hospital by now..."
"Is there some sort of
tradition that they follow for this type of situation? You've never really
talked about your Romany heritage that much. From what Kurt has told me, the
Rom have a tradition for just about every major life event. I wasn't sure if
they differed from country to country or tribe to tribe, being that your
Grandmother's tribe is Romanian by descent and Kurt's foster family is German…"
She shook her head "no",
"There is no real difference among the tribes as far as birth, marriage, and
death rituals go. Oh, there might be slight variations depending on what group
you belong to, but they're basically all the same. It's the same as the
language: any Rom from any country can understand each other when they speak
the Romany language because it's universal between tribes and countries. That's
why Kurt can understand me when I speak to him in Rom, even though I'm
American, and my Gram could understand him when he spoke to her in Rom, even
though he's German. It's a universal language, the only thing that differs are
the accents of the people speaking. Understand?"
"Of course. It's quite
ingenious really. Is there a written language, too?"
"Not really…it's mostly in glyphs.
They are often left in a storefront to warn other Rom, or to leave a message,
stuff like that. It was really effective when there were a lot of "Gypsy
Patrols"."
"Gypsy…patrols?"
She nodded vigorously. "They
were specific patrols among the local police force that looked out for scam
jobs among the Rom. You know, to keep people from getting 'gypped'? They were
pretty prevalent when my Gram was younger, after she emigrated with my Granddad
and my Mom. In fact, there was one particular Sergeant on the force who had his
eye on the fortune telling business that my Gram worked for about 25 years ago.
He kept poking his nose in…trying to make sure they weren't scam artists. She
wound up making a believer out of him one night…"
"Dare I ask…what did she
do?"
Michelle giggled girlishly
and said, "She read his palm and did a tarot reading on him. My Gram has
Sense…she gives a dead-on accurate reading when she reads someone, and that's
what she did to this guy. He left a believer, and he never bothered them again.
Neither did anyone else on the force, for that matter…"
Hank looked at the girl for
a moment, and then said softly, "I regret that I did not take the opportunity
to meet your Grandmother when I had the chance. She sounds like a fascinating
woman."
"She is…she was…actually, a
lot of the students have met her; Kitty and Evan did about 3 months ago,
remember? I think it was in the middle of September…?"
"Ahhh…was that the report
that they teamed up on for European History? The one about the Holocaust?"
Michelle nodded, and then
added sadly, "She survived it, you know…the Holocaust, I mean. So many others
didn't. Kitty said that she has relatives that lived through it, too. Gram had
some intense horror stories, stuff that used to keep me up at night. Things the
SS did to gypsy women…ethnic cleansing, gang rapes, that sort of thing.
Experiments that Hitler's scientists did on gypsy children. They tore families apart…kept tribes apart
to cause terror among the prisoners. They tried to totally wipe out the Rom population
in Europe through terror and torture and death, because in their mind, we were
as worthy of extinction as the Jews. There was one night, April 1, 1944…4,000
Romany men, women, and children were butchered and incinerated at Auschwitz.
That's the one that really sticks in my mind…one big mass execution. We always
hold a candlelit ceremony on that night, my Grandmother and I…to remember all
that died, to remind us of all that was lost in the War."
Hank nodded thoughtfully and looked at the picture, "It is good to
remember these things…no matter how painful they are…it serves as a reminder to
future generations, so that no one forgets the past. "
Michelle got up from the
couch and walked over to the end table where the picture had been. She held it
in her hands for a moment, touching it lovingly, then placed it on the table.
When she turned around, Hank was surprised to see that her face was wet with
tears. She wiped them off, as if she was slightly embarrassed.
"I'm sorry…it just hit me
that she won't be here to light the candles with me next April. I'll be doing
it alone. It's…so…hard…to think of things like that, knowing she's going to be
gone. I'm sorry…I promised myself I would be strong for her…for myself…that I
wouldn't cry in front of anyone. But…" Her face crumpled, and she placed a hand
over her eyes, as if to physically prevent the tears from flowing. Hank got up,
walked over, and awkwardly placed a hand on her arm.
"I have lost those that I
love, and it is never easy. There is no shame in crying for their loss. I
will not think any less of you, and I know for a fact that the others will not
either…"
She started crying openly
then, great sobs wracking her slender frame. Hank took her in his arms and
gently stroked her hair, tears running down his face as well, grieving with
her, sharing her pain as if it were his own, gently whispering that she would
be alright…she would not be alone through this, the end of the
matter…everything would be fine… in the end.
………………………………………………………………………………………………
1 hour later:
They sat together at the
kitchen table, each with a cup of coffee. Michelle had showered and made
herself slightly more presentable while Hank made…or tried to make…breakfast.
There had been virtually nothing in the cupboards but rice, ramen noodles, and
some week old bread. The refrigerator held only milk, eggs, and jelly. So he
had made her a small plate of eggs and toast, which she actually ate a small
portion of. True to form, Hank was eating a Twinkie, which he proclaimed was
the 'breakfast of champions'.
"Hank, do you know what the
shelf lives on those things are? There have to be enough artificial
preservatives in them to-"
The ringing of the phone cut
off her thoughts…
"-Hang on a sec, I'll get
that…"
He watched her while she
answered the phone. She talked for a moment in English, and then switched to
Romany. Hank saw her face go pale, and her hands clutch the phone so tightly
that her knuckles shown white. After a brief amount of time, she hung up the
phone, and then turned to him.
" That was the baro, the
'big man' of the tribe. Gram has taken a turn for the worse, and they've called
in her priest to deliver the Rites…Hank, I feel awkward asking, but would you
go with me? You don't have to if you don't want to, if hospitals make you
uncomfortable…but I would feel a lot better with you there."
Hank stood up and put the
dishes in the sink, then turned to her and said; "Wild horses couldn't keep me
away. I told you before that you are not going to do this alone, and I meant
every word of it…in fact, I am of a mind to call the Institute and have the
others come up to see you. Would you object terribly if I did?"
She frowned for a moment,
and then said, "No, it really wouldn't bother me…might actually help, in fact.
And I have some apologizing to do to everyone, being that I've been a bit of a
brat the past few days…you know, avoiding everyone, not returning phone calls.
I'm surprised that no one visited me before today…"
"They, or at least some of
them, were very tempted. And despite their concern for you, nobody blames you
for being distant, no matter how frustrating it is for them to see you this
way, knowing how difficult this is. "
"Are you so sure of that?
Logan threatened to kick my ass last night, and he sounded very
sincere."
"Ah well, Logan is a law
unto himself, and he deals with these things in his own charming way. You must
admit, though, he got your attention, neh?"
She laughed, and shook her
head, curls bouncing wildly. "Oh yeah, Logan has a way of getting a person's
attention all right. The scary thing is, he actually called back three minutes
later to apologize for threatening to kick my ass earlier. I
almost fell over from the shock…it was so out of character for him. Well, my
friend, we ready to roll?"
"As ready as I'll ever be…"
"You know, I still haven't
found those cats. I wonder where they could be?"
"I'm sure they'll be fine. I
wouldn't worry about them. Well…after you m'lady."
They
grabbed their coats and requisite keys, locked up the house and went outside to
Hank's car. Michelle looked back at the house as she got in the car, and then
did a double take. Inside the front window were the cats, sitting side by side,
and as the vehicle pulled away from the curb, she could almost swear they were
waving goodbye…
End of chapter 4… Sorry this was so full of dialogue, but I wanted to give a little more background on her Grandmother, so that she wouldn't seem so 'cardboard'. You know, the token dying relative…chapter 5 coming soon, hopefully I will be able to wrap this up…