Author's Note: Sorry for the delay and the short chapter, guys, but you won't believe how busy I've been lately, with my job and school about to start. I've been so tired, and there's so much to do and not enough time to do it in. Anyway, enjoy this chapter (and I'll try to get the next one finished soon) because, depending on what Tropical Storm Chris does (I live in south Louisiana), I may not be able to update for quite a while. I'm hoping that it won't get that severe, since the news says that the storm is weakening, but there's always a possibility.
xXx
"We all get death threat letters, Ororo," Henry McCoy attempted to calm the headmistress of the Xavier Institute over the phone, "Remember when we were cleaning out the Professor's office that one day and started snooping and we found a whole drawer full of them?"
"Yes, but Hank…" Ororo began, switching the phone from one ear to the other.
"Hell, now that I'm an ambassador, I might as well walk around with a sign on my back that says 'Please kill me,'" he interrupted her, "That's how many death threats I get weekly. Not to mention all of the assassination attempts in just the past few months. I'm well on my way to having a drawer that looks just like Charles' did."
"I know, Hank, but listen to me," said Ororo intensely, "All of the death threats that Charles used to get, and all of the ones that you get, those are all individual threats, on no one's life but your own. The two that we've received have been threats on the entire school, everyone in it. It could be nothing; it could just be someone trying to intimidate us. In fact, until this afternoon, I didn't think much more of it than that; I brushed it aside. But, Hank, we found another note on the front door. The students are in a panic; I'm starting to get scared."
"What have you been doing about it so far?" Hank asked in a sympathetic tone.
"Well, I told the students the same thing I told you; that it was just an attempt to frighten us, but they won't believe it anymore, and I don't, either. Even if it is nothing, we still need help. There's only so much we can do here by ourselves. I just called to ask if there might be anything you can do, any kind of aid that you could get for us," she told him, almost pleadingly.
"What are you thinking of, some kind of a military surveillance or security?" he suggested.
"It would have to be," replied Ororo, "The local police don't take us seriously anymore; I haven't even tried to call them. There's no point."
"And you sincerely believe that humans are behind this, and not mutants? Because, Ororo, I can send in the military, but we all know how useful they are in a mutant attack," he said.
"Why would any mutant write things about their own kind like, 'Mutants are a pestilence'?" she asked.
"Reverse psychology," Hank explained, "Even from the very beginning there were fellow mutants, former colleagues of the Professor's, who were never too happy about the kinds of things that he was teaching and the methods that he was using at the Institute. If a group of mutants were planning an attack on the school, what better way to do it than to make everyone think that it was nothing more than a cult of radical humans with anti-mutant sympathies? It would certainly keep your guard down by making you think that the threat was nothing that you, as mutants, couldn't handle."
"True enough," agreed Ororo, "To be honest with you, Hank, I don't know what I believe anymore. Things have just been so hectic around here lately. In addition to all of the death threats and just the average work that goes with keeping a school up and running…Thanksgiving is right around the corner, and you know we have the banquet to plan every year."
She heard him groan over the telephone line.
"I could just kick myself for forgetting," he told her, "I've been swamped with work lately as well. If it weren't for the fact that it's starting to get colder, I wouldn't even know what month we were in."
"So I'm guessing that you won't be able to join us this year?" she asked.
"No, not on such short notice. I'm sorry, Ororo," he answered regretfully.
"No matter," she sighed, "But you did keep your Christmas open?"
"Well, of course," he said, "I could never forget that." Visions of the Christmas ball that the Xavier Institute held every year filled his head, the land around the mansion all covered in snow. It had always seemed so much like a fairytale to him; the only magic that had ever touched his life. Hank wouldn't miss Christmas at Xavier's for anything.
"Good," she said, "Because we all miss you here. I do especially, and I thank you for everything."
In his opulent D.C. office, Dr. Henry McCoy sighed lightly and closed his eyes, trying to stifle thoughts of the feelings that he still harbored for the snowy-haired woman who had given him up years ago.
"You're welcome, Ororo. And, as always, take care of yourself," he said, hanging the phone up before she could say anything more.