authors note: I've done in this order: Jean, Scott, Xavier. Do any of you have any preference to who I do next? Thanks for all the lovely comments.
He knew her as well as any father could know a daughter. She had been brought to him so young, and he'd helped her. He'd helped her with the ability to move things with her mind. A pencil. A desk. A person. And in those final few moments, a jet and a wave. He hadn't helped her to sacrifice, she'd learned that on her own, and this made him proud beyond reason.
These were the times when he was tired, above all tired, and all he wanted to do was rest and think. But he was not allowed these leisures. He had to continue to train others, others who would do the same as this magnificent girl, no woman, and die so easily for their cause. He had stayed connected to her as she died, tried to whisper in her minds eye, give her comforting thoughts.
He noticed the way his x-men acted now. Harsh words no longer exchanged between the two hims, his longing stares at empty spaces, his nervous lingering at doorways, her losing control at the dinner table and electrocuting herself.
They look at him sometimes as though he is unfeeling, and they forget he is a telepath and he hears their screams of anger in their minds. Why aren't you grieving? they want to scream at him, and he says nothing to this, never, even though he hears it.
He is grieving. He is thinking of her each day as he awakes, and each night as he sleeps. His most brilliant student, the one who surpassed the master and saved the masses. She is a true hero, but they never realize what he knows but is not certain of. That when he connected to her, tried to whisper comforting words to her through her death, she never stopped whispering back.
He knew her as well as any father could know a daughter. She had been brought to him so young, and he'd helped her. He'd helped her with the ability to move things with her mind. A pencil. A desk. A person. And in those final few moments, a jet and a wave. He hadn't helped her to sacrifice, she'd learned that on her own, and this made him proud beyond reason.
These were the times when he was tired, above all tired, and all he wanted to do was rest and think. But he was not allowed these leisures. He had to continue to train others, others who would do the same as this magnificent girl, no woman, and die so easily for their cause. He had stayed connected to her as she died, tried to whisper in her minds eye, give her comforting thoughts.
He noticed the way his x-men acted now. Harsh words no longer exchanged between the two hims, his longing stares at empty spaces, his nervous lingering at doorways, her losing control at the dinner table and electrocuting herself.
They look at him sometimes as though he is unfeeling, and they forget he is a telepath and he hears their screams of anger in their minds. Why aren't you grieving? they want to scream at him, and he says nothing to this, never, even though he hears it.
He is grieving. He is thinking of her each day as he awakes, and each night as he sleeps. His most brilliant student, the one who surpassed the master and saved the masses. She is a true hero, but they never realize what he knows but is not certain of. That when he connected to her, tried to whisper comforting words to her through her death, she never stopped whispering back.