CHAPTER 19: FAREWELL

Jean's emerald green eyes flew open with a gasp, her entire body jolting in shock as her consciousness abruptly returned to its rightful place.

"Scott?!"

"No, darlin'," came the gravelly voiced reply from just beyond her field of vision, and she struggled to focus her blurry eyes.

"Logan?" a whisper now, not the plea of a moment ago.

"Yep."

She didn't even stop to think as she flew up from the bed, throwing her arms around his shoulders and sobbing desperately against his chest.

Thick fingers clenched, then unclenched, rising slowly up to stroke her shimmering hair.

*           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *

Rogue awoke with a start, every muscle and sinew in her body aching with indescribable pain. It didn't matter. The pain of her flesh barely held a candle to the aching void in her heart.

Curling into a tiny ball on the floor of Sinister's lab, she sobbed out her sorrow into the unfeeling steel beneath her.

*           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *

Irinee' and Jean-Luc collapsed as one, their ordeal finally over as the power of the Phoenix returned to its rightful place, held in check now by its owner.

*           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *

Somehow, Bobby felt like he had been the one to almost die as Lorna's vital signs returned and leveled out.

"It's not over yet," Theresa said quietly, her tense face lit by the gentle green of the med-slab monitors.

Bobby turned to her wordlessly, astounded.

"Her arm." Her voice was tight with obvious distress, soft with sadness. "It's irreparably shattered. It has to come off, or it will kill her."

*           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *

Kitty cradled the broken form of Lockheed in her arms, a token left behind by the demons, her face wet with tears. Something within her seemed to harden in that instant, and then break, as if her very heart had been sundered.

*           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *

Colossus found Kitty staring stoically at the floor, the dead body of her pet dragon held as if forgotten in her arms. Sadness welled up inside of him and he knelt, gathering her in his arms, embracing her warmly, and lending her his strength. But she was cold, almost lifeless against him, shallow breathing the only indication that she still lived. Afraid for the first time, he drew back and gazed into the emptiness of her deep brown eyes.

"Katya?"

A flicker of recognition and then her gaze focused fully on him, causing him to sigh with relief. But any sense of peace was immediately forgotten as she recounted the events of the last few minutes before his arrival. Tears welled up in his eyes as he listened, not just over the fate of his sister, but for Kitty as well, for all she had endured in these years following the Shadow King's escape. He cried not only for her pain, but also in her place, giving voice to the sorrow that cut so deep she could no longer feel where it began and ended. He cried because her eyes remained dry.

*           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *

Magnus moved from room to room, frowning, silver brows knotted in concern. No other fatalities, it seemed, but oh, the pain. It was almost palpable, radiating from each member of both teams like a beacon of despair. They had overcome the villains once again. He wondered if they had enough strength left to overcome the enemies within.

*           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *

From a quiet corner, far removed, Madelyne stood, chewing on her thumb nervously, thoughtfully, watching as each X-Man tried to pick up the pieces of their individual lives and move on. She was shamed by their bravery, dwarfed by their nobility, and she realized now that she always had been. Perhaps that was why she'd always hated them so much.

*           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *

The dome light shone a soft green against Ororo's dark skin from within the Blackbird cockpit. It was the only illumination in the darkened jet, the rest of the team having long departed to see to those they'd left behind. Only she remained, alone in the pale light that accented the contours of her expression, white brows drawn together in sadness, cerulean eyes distant with thoughts of times both long gone and yet to come, creating a picture that was at once pensive, sad, and lost. Lost. The Morlocks, dead because of her negligence; Remy, dead at Sinister's hand. Lost. Jean, her sister in all but blood, had been dead twice over, and soon, perhaps, she would have to die a third time. And to her shame, Ororo found that she almost wished for it; for the death of one she loved as a sister. Because she didn't know if she could take losing Logan, too.

*           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *

Logan's hand trembled as it pulled reluctantly away from Jean's hair, his body drawing back from her as if with a will that was not his own. He had to know, he had to see. As wonderful as it was to have her, hold her, fill his senses with her, he could not risk everyone else for the sake of his own pleasure. Black eyes glittered as they searched her tear-filled green ones, looking for a sign, the smallest indication that she might not be who she appeared.

"Jeanie?" he asked gruffly, his voice thicker than usual, though now with emotion.

She nodded gently, eyes never leaving his. "The only me that ever was."

And somehow, though she left much unspoken, he sensed the truth in that.

*           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *

The sky was gray, threatening rain as the X-Men gathered in grief beneath the rolling clouds. Magnus noted that little had changed since his last visit here to the old mansion as they filed out the doors, down the hill to the row of graves that stretched much too far into the distance. For all the years that passed, for all the hardships they endured, it all ended here, at this mansion that was once their home, in this place that had always held hope for the future. Once an unknown mutant institute in upscale, rural New York, it had become so much more than that in the years that had followed. It had become the very embodiment and symbol of hope for mutant-kind. Perhaps for the world, itself.

Passing beneath the low trees, they came to a stop before one small hill, forming a half-circle around the light gray headstone. Magnus stepped to the forefront and turned, surveying the faces of each teammate gathered before him. Ororo, so tall and regal and composed, yet her blue eyes remained downcast with sadness, and she had chosen not to speak this day, leaving that to Magnus instead. To her right stood Logan, almost a full head shorter than his dark-skinned lover, his shoulder just touching her arm. Something was not right between them of late, and if Magnus had to guess, he'd say it had to do with the woman standing to Logan's right. Jean Grey, living and breathing, standing just a bit too close to Logan, protocol forgotten in sorrow. Next to her stood Lorna and Bobby, linked arm in arm, the green-haired woman taking care not to squeeze her lover too roughly with her new metal arm. According to Theresa, who stood just behind them with Puck, it was made purely of metal shards held in place by the power of Lorna herself. To their right stood Bobby's long time friend Alison, and next to her, Kitty and Piotr. Kitty looked as if she'd been carved from stone, and Piotr had one hand on her shoulder, though if it was meant to comfort or to reassure himself that she was still there was in question. Next to them stood Magnus' own daughter, Wanda, and her friend Lasher. Behind them all, lurking on the fringes, Jean Grey's exact duplicate, Madelyne, shuffled nervously, seeming uncertain of her place there. And beside him, where he didn't quite have to look, unless he wanted to, were Rogue, Jean-Luc and Irinee'.

He risked a sidelong glance at Rogue and was instantly sorry. The ashen features of her face, twisted by sorrow as they were, sent a bolt of pain through his heart. They had all known this wouldn't be easy. Perhaps it was best to simply get it over with quickly. Turning his attention back to the group before him, he cleared his throat and began, deep voice resonating through the misty air.

"We gather here today to bid goodbye to Remy Etienne LeBeau; beloved husband, devoted father, revered teammate. Though he is no longer with us…"

Magnus' words faded into nothingness for Rogue. It was silent where she was, utterly and completely silent and lonely. Pale hand resting on each of her children's shoulders, she touched them only to touch reality itself. They were her only link to the world now, the only thing that kept her from retreating entirely. Soon enough, she would have to come out of this comfortable, numb place inside, and face the fact that Remy was really gone. Soon enough, their grief would abate a little, this shell-shocked feeling would pass, and they would need her to be strong and guide them through their lives. She wondered, in some distant corner of her mind, if she would ever be ready for that day. It seemed impossible now, without him.

Dull green eyes swept over the landscape in the distance, lingering where the ground was lost to the white mists of early morning fog. She felt as lost as the large, dark shapes that loomed mysteriously beyond the fog, barely visible to her eye, indecipherable in purpose. Gradually, she became aware that it was silent, that everyone was looking at her expectantly, and she wondered for an instant how long she had been standing there in a daze. Then she turned, laying the white rose in her hands atop the tombstone and smoothing its leaves with her black-gloved fingers. She paused, staring at her hands. Gloves. It had been a long time since she'd worn them, yet now she slipped back into wearing them with the ease of a lifetime spent wearing such things. It seemed appropriate somehow, rightly symbolic. Because of him, she had learned to control her power. For him, she had removed her gloves forever. Bare hands that had caressed him with love would never touch another in that way. Now that he was gone, the gloves returned to her hands, and there they would remain, figuratively, if not literally. She would not dare to love like that again. She could not.

She pressed the black suede of her fingertips against her lips, and then brushed her fingers against the polished stone, lingering there for a long moment. His body was not here, but it was here that she would say her goodbyes, nevertheless.

"Goodbye, mah love," she whispered, black clad form atop the small hill in striking contrast to the white mist all around, fingers resting atop the headstone, eyes closed, head bowed, the perfect picture of grief and loss to all who bore witness. Then she turned and pushed her way from the graveyard, never looking backward once.

Jean-Luc and Irinee' stepped forward next as their mother disappeared into the fog, each bending to deposit a small bouquet of light colored flowers before the headstone. Then they both stood as if lost, tears trailing down their tiny, solemn faces, until Magnus finally stepped forward and put a hand on each of their shoulders, steering them back toward the mansion.

And so it went, each team member stepping forward to pay their final respects, until at last, the row of graves stood empty, silent once again.

*           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *

"So what'll you do now, darlin'?" Logan asked, crouching down on the front porch, cheroot in hand.

Jean shrugged lightly, thinking as she stared out over the mansion grounds. "I don't know exactly. I just know I need to be on my own for a while."

"Big scary world out there," he offered with a slight smirk.

"I know." She smiled faintly, turning her head to look at him at last. "I'll be all right though. I learned from some of the best."

He nodded, understanding what she left unspoken far more than she could realize. The merging of her persona's had left her more stable than she had ever been at the peak of her power… but she was a creature out of time, out of place, risen from death twice over, immortal in every sense of the word, more powerful than any other known mutant in existence. That was a pretty large thing to comprehend, much less to live with. She couldn't get a grip on it while sharing her life with mere mortals, while pretending to be a mere mortal. She belonged among the stars just as he belonged among the wilds, and the time that either of them spent with others was time consciously given up, time freely donated to the world and those who could benefit from it. They understood each other that way. They always had.

"If yer sure," he added. "You know yer always welcome here."

"I know." Again she smiled faintly, and then the expression crumbled, leaving her face bare as a little girl's suddenly. "You could come with me," softly spoken, barely above a whisper, more of a wish than an actual question.

For a moment, he actually considered it. Hadn't he just thought about how similar they were, after all? But for all that their personalities and the generalities of their lives were similar, the particulars of their individual lives varied greatly. Him trying to soar the stars with her would be like a fish trying to swim through dirt. Sadly, he shook his head. "No, darlin'. Just wouldn't be right. I'd hold ya back, get in yer way. And 'sides, I…" his voice trailed off, head turning in the direction of the mansion, looking slightly uncomfortable.

It was her turn to nod in silence, eyes reluctantly pulling from him, looking back to landscape before her. She didn't belong here, or with Magnus' group, that was true. She didn't know where she belonged, really, and that was what she needed to figure out for herself. But going alone was a scary prospect, no matter how much she convinced herself that it was necessary. Perhaps if it weren't for Ororo, she could have convinced him to come with her, regardless of his own feelings of unworthiness. Perhaps, in time, he would have come to know that she considered him her equal in all things, and that together nothing would be beyond their grasp. But Ororo did exist, and Logan did love her, and Jean was still too new at all this to know if she was too eagerly trying to fill the void Scott had left behind.

He wondered what she was thinking. She had been so silent since her return from the grave, pensive, nothing like the Jean of old. He would have done almost anything to see her devilish grin, to hear her laughter, even to feel the sting of her anger. Instead there was this veil of silence between them as there had never been before, and in its wake trailed the name Ororo. And he supposed that was the way it had to be.

"Very well." The air around him suddenly warmed, glowing a bright yellow, and he looked up to see Jean hovering just above the porch railing, a serene smile on her lovely face. "Tell the others I said goodbye, and I'll return when I can."

"Just like that?" he asked, and he felt his heart grow heavy in his chest, filling with sadness. How many times had he said goodbye to her? How many more times would he have to?

"I can't bear to say goodbye to them all. If I did, I might not have the courage to leave," she admitted softly.

He nodded, again understanding her all too well.

She cocked her head to the side then, broad smile spreading over her features and lighting up her eyes. "You know, you never did check to see if I was real this time."

And there it was, just beneath the surface as it had always been; the brightness of her inner fire, a passion and temper to match the hue of her vibrant red hair. Lips he had thought he'd never see again smirked at him bemusedly, and he could not help but smirk back.

It had been during Inferno, and the first time he'd seen her since she'd died on the moon. He had wanted to make sure she was real and couldn't think of any way more fun than dipping her backward in one hell of a kiss. Only Jean could take his breath away like that, and that kiss had been worth every bruise that Cyclops and Angel had heaped on him afterward.

He flicked the ash from his cigar and shook his head. "Nope, not this time darlin'. Some things, you gotta take on faith." He winked then, and she smiled back.

The next time he blinked, she was a small yellow dot against the heavens.