Editor's Note:
Great efforts have been made to locate any letter Kitty wrote concerning what happened next at the Opera Populaire. Either she wrote none, or none survive.
Erik's Journals are similarly unhelpful—there are several pages missing. It appears, from the state of the book, that he wrote down a full account, and then ripped it out. The ragged edges of the pages remain bound in the book, to tantalize us with what he might have thought, said and done. He seems to have been embarrassed, as this letter, the one document that touches on what occurred, clearly shows.
Letter from Dr. Jean Grey-Summers, Hotel de, Paris, France, to Scott Summers, Xavier House, Yorkshire, England.
Dearest Scott:
I may well be back with you before this letter can make the journey, but it has been such a day! I can't sleep, so I shall write.
Getting here was no problem. No one shot at us—I don't think we were even spotted. At the moment, our plan is to make a more conventional re-entry into England. Although our passports don't have the proper entry stamps at the moment, Kitty's Erik assures us that he can forge us an undetectable replica.
I am calling him Kitty's Erik, because, although it remains to be seen whether she will be Erik's Katherine, (I think she will!) he is certainly and unshakably hers. We have all of us been out to dinner, and I wore my sea-foam green and gold from Liberty's, while Auroré wore her pale bronze charmeuse from Eulalié—and that was heavy ammunition on our parts, you'll agree —and he barely blinked at either of us.
It was Kitty his eyes sought out—but that is getting ahead of myself.
I 'heard' them long before we could see them or hear them with our ears—three tremendously angry Evolved, Sir Erich, Kitty, and an unknown who I could only assume was Erik, all radiating hostility so palpably that sensitives all over Paris must have been getting unaccountably edgy. That made me wonder, because why, of all people, should Kitty have been so furious?
I heard a male voice, unfamiliar to me, but so resonant I knew it must be Erik, say, "If you truly want to escape his parental authority, I have a solution. Marry me immediately. A husband's guardianship supersedes that of a father in any court of law. I give you my word that I would—wait until you."
It was exceedingly convenient that they happened to have chosen to have their contretemps on the rooftop of the Opera.
Kitty cut him off. "That would be going from the frying pan into the fire." she groaned.
Sir Erich snarled, "I think you might find that rather difficult, given that she is an underage Jewish heiress who isn't of French citizenship. Neither the civil authorities nor any religious."
"I think it would be wisest," the Professor told us mentally, as we prepared to make ourselves known, "if we presented ourselves in as non-threatening a manner as we possibly can—even to the point of pretending to need more assistance than we truly do."
"I'm not an heiress!" exclaimed Kitty, in surprise.
"Until and unless I get another heir, yes, you are!" stated Sir Erich.
"Great! I want to be disowned!" she shouted.
They didn't even notice us until we were literally on top of them.
"Hello!" Professor Xavier then addressed the three of them. "Provided that the group of statuary there is sturdy enough, might one of you be so kind as to tether our anchor-ropes to it?"
It was a truly beautiful moment. Three backs stiffened, three heads snapped back, and three jaws dropped simultaneously, as our hot-air balloon emerged from the bank of clouds and fog Auroré had shrouded us in. The light picked out the touches of white each had about them: the white of Sir Erich's hair and shirtfront, Kitty's collar and cuffs—and the half-mask Erik wore, all glowed with the faint radiance of the moon.
"Hello, Charles." said Sir Erich, in that insufferably world-weary way of his, "Whatever are you doing here?"
"Kitty's premiere in Il Muto is tomorrow night." Professor Xavier told him. "We missed her first debut. It would be inexcusable if we missed her second—particularly when she's playing the title role."
"Oh, Professor!" Kitty cried, with profound relief, "I have never been so glad to see you in my life!" She took a rope and began fastening us to a cherub.
"Thank you, Kitty. I also thought it would be wise to be on hand because of something you wrote—that Sir Erich and Monsieur Dantés were rather alike. It struck me that they might be too much alike to get along well at first. I seem to have been correct. Could someone tell me why you three are fighting?"
They all spoke at once.
"He is an ungrateful wretch, and so is she!" began Sir Erich.
"He went and adopted me without my permission!" Kitty burst out.
"How many other people have you been writing to?" Erik asked of her, heatedly.
Auroré chose that moment to spiral down out of the sky and land right next to him. She then further threw him off balance by taking his hand in both of hers, looked deeply into his eyes, and said, "Thank you for saving Kitty's life. Had she died here, alone and among strangers, it would have left great wounds and unbearable sorrows in our hearts. I am Auroré Munro. I hope you will call me Auroré."
Then she threw her arms around his neck and kissed him on the cheek. He looked very surprised at that. "Forgive me—but why are you sticky?" she immediately asked.
"Because Katherine saw fit to throw a carafe of lemonade over me." Erik said with asperity.
"It was necessary!" she defended herself. "That piano would have left a very big hole in the wall, and I need that piano. I rely on it."
"For what?" he asked, reasonably.
"For—never mind! Professor, how can Sir Erich have adopted me? Did you know about this?"
Sir Erich was hauling the balloon basket down, and muttering that old quote about the serpent's tooth and the thankless child.
"It seems to me," said the Professor, as I helped unbuckle the basket's side door, "that we would all profit by a good long talk about all of these things." The door swung open, and for the first time, Erik realized that the Professor was physically incapacitated.
Yes, I thought. See? We are only two attractive women, and an older man in a wheelchair. We are no threat to you.
Professor Xavier wheeled himself onto the rooftop with a slight bump. He winced exaggeratedly. "Let me add my thanks to Auroré's. I don't permit myself to have favorites among my students; I don't think it's fair. But if I did, Kitty would be one of them." He smiled at Erik, and extended the warmth of his personality, as well as his hand, to him. "Charles Xavier. I'm sure Kitty has told you a great deal about us. By now, you must know as much, or more, about us as we do about you."
Erik shook his hand, his brow furrowing with thought.
I followed the Professor out of the basket. "While professionally, I'm Doctor Grey, and socially, Mrs. Scott Summers, to my friends, I'm Jean. What you did for Kitty makes you one of them. Incidentally, the course of treatment you followed after the diagnosis of cholera is exactly what I would recommend if there is no practicable way of administering fluids intravenously. I thank you, too." I shook his hand as well.
"Ah. Indeed—You are very welcome, but I need no thanks." he said. In the face of our friendliness, his anger had receded, leaving him puzzled, and a little overwhelmed.
I continued, "Has Sir Erich been haughty and overbearing at you? Don't pay it any attention. We never do. He's like that toward all Evolved, and with ordinary humans he's even worse."
"I—am not haughty and overbearing at people." denied Sir Erich, haughtily and in an extremely overbearing way. "I was perfectly cordial, and consequentially spent the morning working entirely for his benefit, only to be attacked without provocation—."
Kitty interrupted, "He tried to kill me, the first time we met. And only four short years later, he's adopting me. He makes a terrible first impression—but Erik, you really were misinterpreting practically everything—."
The Professor interrupted her. "Is there somewhere inside," he emphasized, "that we might talk freely and in private? I am afraid the entire Opera house will be up here at any moment."
"And I, for one, need to wash my hands and face." I contributed, employing a useful euphemism. "Thanks to Auroré, we had nothing but good winds to keep us on course, but we left before dawn and didn't stop along the way. There's some luggage in there…"
"We ought to go indoors," added Auroré. "I cannot keep the rains away for much longer," she lied.
"I—", and Erik paused, "would be honored if you would accompany me—to my home." he finished, resignedly.
TBC…
A/N: I believe the first X-Men movie was the first place Jean Grey was given a profession other than simply that of superhero—she became Dr. Jean Grey. I decided to keep that innovation, as it seems sensible. I think that more of the X-men should have paying jobs. Any school that only teaches you how to save the world and not how to pay the rent is a poor school, in my opinion. A few women were in the medical profession at the time, not many— remember Dr. Quinn, Medicine Woman? An Evolved doctor who would treat Evolved patients and not get upset at a few physical anomalies is necessary.
Now—to all of you who are reading and not reviewing—don't you know that feedback is addictive? Oh, we fanficcers go into it just thinking we're writing out of love—but then we get hooked, and without reviews, we become sorry sodden lumps. So say something. Anything!
Shouting out to my faithful friends:
SarahBelle: Welcome aboard! I'm glad you like it. I first started reading the X-men when Magneto was trying to be a better person, and I liked him like that. He and Kitty were bonding for a while, and that inspired the relationship in this story. But he isn't perfect… Kurt is on the way!
Selena Wolf— (see—got your name right!) I'm not sure if you got my e-mail or not. I never got a reply—but AOL likes to eat them sometimes. Yes, Kurt will be blue and furry. He will be swashbuckling and romantic. He will also show Erik how to step out of the shadows, and live in the light of day. And Kitty will call him Fuzzy-Elf!
Thornwitch: I'd like to get more readers—but I can't think of another summary that would work better, without confusing people who wander in. Any suggestions? I guarantee you that Kurt and Erik will be crossing swords—literally!
STIG: You mentioned a blimp—little did you know, there was going to be a hot-air balloon! Bwahhaha! Close enough? I had that part thought out about a month before I wrote it—what a coincidence! Thanks for the good words…
Queen Ame: I'm sorry the last update was so brief. I was having ADD medication issues, no joke. When I'm not on them, or the dosage isn't enough—I can't concentrate enough to write. When the dosage is too strong, I can't sleep, and I go kinda nuts. Result—I don't write. As for whether Kitty wants Erik—the course of true love never did run smooth. (Believe me, from the writer's point of view, I have to work to keep them out of bed!)
Lydiby: The muse is back! Have you ever read the Irene Adler books by Carole Nelson Douglas? They're wonderful—and Irene is an Opera singer!
Ellen: I think I know the one you mean—the Holmes/POTO crossover. In the first chapter, we're introduced to a beautiful, musically gifted woman who is blind. I read that, and groaned, because I could see exactly where the story was going from there…. Have you ever read the Irene Adler books by Carole Nelson Douglas?
Can't go without saying Hi! to Pickledishkiller, Hobbit Babe, and Lexi!