Ok, a sequel by popular demand (really, it was a demand
from a loyal fan, so that was good enough). Little (ok, a lot)
angsty. Well worth the time. Enjoy!
For hours, Wolverine sat, hearing the radio, not
listening to it at all. With no one else in the house, he had plenty of
silence. He refused to answer the phone when it rang, or respond to any
stimuli. He was thinking back on all the times he should have let her go,
how he should have been there when she needed him, how her life should have
been. He didn't register when Cyclops came back with the kids, or when
Jean called him down for dinner. The Professor tried to draw him out of
his shell, but he refused to answer the door.
He was pulled from his thoughts as the announcer came on
the radio, somehow louder than before.
"Alright, now let's take you back a couple years to a hit
by the king himself, Garth Brooks. From the movie 'Frequency,' here's
'When You Come Back to Me Again.'" A soft melody slowing faded in, and
the rich voice of Garth floated through the room.
There's a ship out, on the ocean at the mercy of the
sea. It's been tossed about, lost and broken wandering aimlessly.
Wolverine's ears perked up. That sounds like me,
he thought sadly.
And God somehow you know that ship is me.
He snorted in response, here we go again.
'Cause there's a lighthouse, in the harbor shining
faithfully.
He closed his eyes, thinking of his little girl once
more, for the thousandth time today. She had always been his anchor, his
lighthouse in the dark.
Pouring its light out, across the water for this
sinking soul to see that someone out there still believes in me.
Not anymore, he thought. She lost all faith
in me the day I tried to make her give up her dream. She probably won't
even give me the time of day now.
On a prayer, in a song, I hear your voice and it keeps
me hanging on. Raining down, against the wind, I'm reaching out 'til we
reach the circle's end
Despite his best efforts, despite all the walls he had
built, deep down, he still wished with all his being that maybe she didn't hate
him. And despite what he told himself, or what he would keep telling
himself, he would wish it until the end of his days.
When you come back to me again.
But most of all, he just wanted to see her, to hold her
once more. But he knew he had lost his child forever, and no amount of
praying or wishing would reverse it.
There's a moment we all come to in our own time and
our own space, where all that we've done, we can undo if our heart's in the
right place.
If only he could talk to her once more, tell her he was
sorry. He had had good intentions, but he couldn't see past his
stubbornness, his unwillingness to let her go.
On a prayer, in a song, I hear your voice and it keeps
me hanging on. Raining down, against the wind, I'm reaching out 'til we
reach the circle's end; when you come back to me again.
He suddenly had an urge to make a large hole in
something. That something happened to be the couch he was sitting on, and
his claws extracted with a familiar snikt. He was about to rip
into the sofa when the doorbell rang. He paused for a moment, catching
only snippets of the conversation.
"Oh my…so long…how…been? (then another, quieter
voice)…guys…Wolv…" That's all he could make out, but he definitely heard
the beginning of his name. Before he could reach the door, the music
swelled.
And again I see my yesterday's in front of me,
unfolding like a mystery. You're changing all that is and used to be.
"Hiya Wolvster." He blinked several times, letting
it sink in. She was here, standing in front of him, looking, for all the
world, sheepish. His little girl was being timid and shy around
him.
On a prayer, in a song, I hear your voice and it keeps
me hanging on. Raining down, against the wind, I'm reaching out 'til we
reach the circle's end
He smelled the rest of the team behind her, out of sight,
and he pulled her in, closing the door behind them. He immediately drew
her to him; and for some reason unknown to him she began crying.
When you come back to me again.
"I'm sorry Wolvie," she managed through her sobs.
He ran his fingers through her shoulder length black hair.
"Darlin' you got nothin' to be sorry about. What
happened, it's in the past, and we can't change it," he soothed.
She stopped crying, her small bout over, and looked up at
her mentor, her father. "But those things I said—"
"Girl, you were forgiven before the door slammed behind
ya." She pulled him to her this time. He inhaled her unique scent,
noting only miniscule changes, and smiled.
When you come back to me again.