author: Lucinda
main character: Logan, memory of Xavier
rating: pg
disclaimer: Nobody that you recognize from Marvel is mine.
distribution: please ask first.
note: set approximately sixty years in the future of the X-Men movie. Probably a far more optimistic future than they will actually get.
He'd spent some time talking to Marie, helping her remember her life, refreshing the memories of the good times, and helping to soothe the less happy memories. He still saw the young girl, so afraid and determined that he'd met so many years ago. He'd always considered her like a daughter to him. But now... she was going to die, and he couldn't help her. Or at least, she didn't want to let him if he could. She was ready to go.
That simple fact made him feel... sad, or something fairly close. So many of the people that had been X-Men, the ones that had lived to become old anyhow, just seemed... They were ready to give up, to die. To allow the world to pass into the hands of the next generations. They felt safe in the future that they had helped build.
Feeling thoughtful, he made his way back to the cemetery, not going to the small stone he'd carved for Dani, but instead to the mausoleum in the center. The final resting place of the mortal shell of Charles Xavier, the founder of the X-Men, originator of this school, a man who'd had a dream. He'd dreamed and struggled to reshape the world. Now, it seemed that he'd gotten the world he'd always said he wanted, a place where humans and mutants lived in peace and harmony. Or at least, a world where the shape and pattern of your genes weren't the reason for fighting and violence.
"What do you think of the world now, Chuck? It's a lot like what you said you wanted." Logan spoke to the building, a small shell of pale marble shaped like a small Greek temple, four pillars in the front and a peaked rook. Instead of carvings, the name and dates of birth and death for Charles Frances Xavier scrawled over the pillars.
Memory stirred, and he could almost hear Xavier's voice, echoing from so many years ago. "I want to shape the world, to bring about peace between humans and mutants. To forge a future where mutants are safe from humans, and humans safe from mutants."
"A world of safety... but did you know how much they would forget?" He could remember how the Professor had brooded over the past, certain that if people did not learn from the lessons of the past, the world doomed to repeat past failures.
The voice of the past spoke again. "My X-Men, carefully trained to control and use their powers to protect and help all mankind, mutant as well as human." He'd seemed so proud of his students, so delighted in their varied abilities.
"Your X-Men... the teams, are almost remembered. It's remembered that the X-Men fought to protect the world, that they helped bring the peace we have now. But people now... the students, the younger adults... they don't remember how much it cost us. How hard we fought, how much we suffered and bled. They don't remember the ones we lost, the people who died for this dream. 'Ro's own grandkids don't realize that she was Storm, and Marie's kids... they can't imagine people being afraid of them just because they can do things everyone else can't. So many of them... I remember when we were amazed and delighted that any of us had the time or safety to have families, and now? Now, our own families don't understand how hard it was. How much it cost to build this world for them." He wasn't sure now if he was speaking to himself, the night air, or the the ghost of a dead dreamer.
"You changed the world, Chuck. We changed it. Hardly anyone alive now even remembers how it was before..." He stopped, trying to swallow down the lump in his throat.
Images of a long ago debate, where Xavier had defended the rights of individual mutants, insisting that all mutants were not criminals, that many mutants just wanted the ability to live in safety. The same safety as their normal brethren. "Are we not all human? Do we not bleed, and falter even as we hope and dream and reach for our goals?"
"I feel like this new world has no place for me... no place for the others who were there. We're just... lingering remnants of history, like the bones of dinosaurs. Except that we have the arrogance to still be up walking around, still out there in the world." He'd finally found the words for some of his feelings. Things that had troubled him for a few years now, as he'd watched the world change.
He fell quiet, listening to the night breeze, remembering Chuck. He'd had so much dignity, so much determination to change things. He'd been determined to see his dream to life, so determined that he'd debated, got involved in scientific and academic politics, been crippled in a mutant-related accident, and offered up like a willing sacrifice the lives and youths of his students. While it was a sacrifice they had all made willingly, had in fact seen no other good alternative for... The question remained. What was for the old warriors, the fighters for the safety and rights of mutants when that battle was over? When those rights were secure? What was left for them now? For many, it had been death or old age.
Xavier had never spoke of how that new world, the world of safety and equality for mutants would be. He'd never spoke of what would become of the X-Men then. Perhaps he hadn't known either. Perhaps he hadn't imagined it would come so soon, within the lifetimes fo his students. Perhaps... perhaps it was because he feared this very situation. Perhaps his efforts to study the after-effects of the wars of the past had suggested this situation, old warriors with no place to belong.
So many of the original X-Men had either stayed at the school or come back. Life as a hero was many things, but it didn't prepare you for living normally. For being an accountant, or a school teacher or a housewife. He couldn't think of any of the originals... Well, Robert Drake had gone on to have a normal life. Marie... she'd tried, bless her for that. But, of all of them, the former X-Men didn't do well at normal. Jubilee had come almost close, but how many people consider a traveling circus to be normal anyhow? That was almost as much of an anachronism as the original X-Men themselves were.
"I guess I'll have to adjust to it all. What other choice do I have anyhow? But I will remember, all the suffering, the pain and the cost of this. There will be someone who remembers what this cost, what it took. Someone who remembers the X-Men as people instead of just legends." He stared at the carven letters, reminded of old temples to half forgotten gods.
"Someone has to remember the humanity of those who fought."
end Your Dream.
main character: Logan, memory of Xavier
rating: pg
disclaimer: Nobody that you recognize from Marvel is mine.
distribution: please ask first.
note: set approximately sixty years in the future of the X-Men movie. Probably a far more optimistic future than they will actually get.
He'd spent some time talking to Marie, helping her remember her life, refreshing the memories of the good times, and helping to soothe the less happy memories. He still saw the young girl, so afraid and determined that he'd met so many years ago. He'd always considered her like a daughter to him. But now... she was going to die, and he couldn't help her. Or at least, she didn't want to let him if he could. She was ready to go.
That simple fact made him feel... sad, or something fairly close. So many of the people that had been X-Men, the ones that had lived to become old anyhow, just seemed... They were ready to give up, to die. To allow the world to pass into the hands of the next generations. They felt safe in the future that they had helped build.
Feeling thoughtful, he made his way back to the cemetery, not going to the small stone he'd carved for Dani, but instead to the mausoleum in the center. The final resting place of the mortal shell of Charles Xavier, the founder of the X-Men, originator of this school, a man who'd had a dream. He'd dreamed and struggled to reshape the world. Now, it seemed that he'd gotten the world he'd always said he wanted, a place where humans and mutants lived in peace and harmony. Or at least, a world where the shape and pattern of your genes weren't the reason for fighting and violence.
"What do you think of the world now, Chuck? It's a lot like what you said you wanted." Logan spoke to the building, a small shell of pale marble shaped like a small Greek temple, four pillars in the front and a peaked rook. Instead of carvings, the name and dates of birth and death for Charles Frances Xavier scrawled over the pillars.
Memory stirred, and he could almost hear Xavier's voice, echoing from so many years ago. "I want to shape the world, to bring about peace between humans and mutants. To forge a future where mutants are safe from humans, and humans safe from mutants."
"A world of safety... but did you know how much they would forget?" He could remember how the Professor had brooded over the past, certain that if people did not learn from the lessons of the past, the world doomed to repeat past failures.
The voice of the past spoke again. "My X-Men, carefully trained to control and use their powers to protect and help all mankind, mutant as well as human." He'd seemed so proud of his students, so delighted in their varied abilities.
"Your X-Men... the teams, are almost remembered. It's remembered that the X-Men fought to protect the world, that they helped bring the peace we have now. But people now... the students, the younger adults... they don't remember how much it cost us. How hard we fought, how much we suffered and bled. They don't remember the ones we lost, the people who died for this dream. 'Ro's own grandkids don't realize that she was Storm, and Marie's kids... they can't imagine people being afraid of them just because they can do things everyone else can't. So many of them... I remember when we were amazed and delighted that any of us had the time or safety to have families, and now? Now, our own families don't understand how hard it was. How much it cost to build this world for them." He wasn't sure now if he was speaking to himself, the night air, or the the ghost of a dead dreamer.
"You changed the world, Chuck. We changed it. Hardly anyone alive now even remembers how it was before..." He stopped, trying to swallow down the lump in his throat.
Images of a long ago debate, where Xavier had defended the rights of individual mutants, insisting that all mutants were not criminals, that many mutants just wanted the ability to live in safety. The same safety as their normal brethren. "Are we not all human? Do we not bleed, and falter even as we hope and dream and reach for our goals?"
"I feel like this new world has no place for me... no place for the others who were there. We're just... lingering remnants of history, like the bones of dinosaurs. Except that we have the arrogance to still be up walking around, still out there in the world." He'd finally found the words for some of his feelings. Things that had troubled him for a few years now, as he'd watched the world change.
He fell quiet, listening to the night breeze, remembering Chuck. He'd had so much dignity, so much determination to change things. He'd been determined to see his dream to life, so determined that he'd debated, got involved in scientific and academic politics, been crippled in a mutant-related accident, and offered up like a willing sacrifice the lives and youths of his students. While it was a sacrifice they had all made willingly, had in fact seen no other good alternative for... The question remained. What was for the old warriors, the fighters for the safety and rights of mutants when that battle was over? When those rights were secure? What was left for them now? For many, it had been death or old age.
Xavier had never spoke of how that new world, the world of safety and equality for mutants would be. He'd never spoke of what would become of the X-Men then. Perhaps he hadn't known either. Perhaps he hadn't imagined it would come so soon, within the lifetimes fo his students. Perhaps... perhaps it was because he feared this very situation. Perhaps his efforts to study the after-effects of the wars of the past had suggested this situation, old warriors with no place to belong.
So many of the original X-Men had either stayed at the school or come back. Life as a hero was many things, but it didn't prepare you for living normally. For being an accountant, or a school teacher or a housewife. He couldn't think of any of the originals... Well, Robert Drake had gone on to have a normal life. Marie... she'd tried, bless her for that. But, of all of them, the former X-Men didn't do well at normal. Jubilee had come almost close, but how many people consider a traveling circus to be normal anyhow? That was almost as much of an anachronism as the original X-Men themselves were.
"I guess I'll have to adjust to it all. What other choice do I have anyhow? But I will remember, all the suffering, the pain and the cost of this. There will be someone who remembers what this cost, what it took. Someone who remembers the X-Men as people instead of just legends." He stared at the carven letters, reminded of old temples to half forgotten gods.
"Someone has to remember the humanity of those who fought."
end Your Dream.