A week later:
"Who else doesn't feel ready for this?" Hank asked from above her. Emma Frost, X-Men, Nobel Peace Prize winner, teacher and sister looked up at the other suffering soul as he sat down next to her, and though Hank tried to hide it, also saw the anguish in his eyes. Still there. She doubted it would ever leave.
She sighed and shook her head. "None of us will ever be ready for this," she told him. Hank nodded, the shadows in his eyes were tangible, there, and ready. There was no consoling him or any of them. Even Emma had ceased with her attempts. Some things just hurt too much.
She glanced sidelong at Hank as Jason walked in and plopped down heavily on her other side. The three of them sat in a prolonged silence, weighed down by worries and despairs, for a long moment.
Then: "How is she?" One corner of his mouth twitched up, but it was not in happiness or amusement as once it had been. It had been a week since anyone had laughed. This was no surprise. Today was not a day for laughter. Though it should have been, for Christmas Eve was the next day was coming.
It was the Holidays for goodness sakes. One of Emma's favorite holidays. Their first together as an entire family.
Or, almost an entire family. They were missing one member.
Now, a few days before Christmas, they were going to a funeral. Emma was wearing black. Her hair had been tied up, in respect. Hank and Jason, were also covered in the darkness of their suits. The entire house looked like heralds of the night.
"She's… Trying," Hank finally breathed. "It's been hard on her these past couple of days. The mornings are the worst, when she wakes up and realizes that she doesn't feel him in her mind anymore. She's filled with self-loathing," Emma had sensed all of this, of course, but the blow of hearing it made her cringe. Raven had once stood so strong, so confident. The loss of her brother had crippled her spirit. Not as badly as it had Erik, though.
"Why?" Jason asked. Hank ran a hand through his hair, exhaled slowly, and looked up, leaning heavily on his knees.
"Because she was so hard on him for certain things," he replied. Emma knew what things he referred to. Charles erasing some pieces of Rave's memory when she was younger to protect her, never telling her the truth about her life, controlling her decisions unconsciously… These things she had agreed at the time of hearing them, unforgivable.
Now, though. She would never forgive him for leaving them.
"Erik won't get out of bed," she said softly, running a hand over her eyes. they were itchy from lack of sleep. She had stayed up, holding Erik each night when memories of Charles's torture sent him to the brink of emotional insanity. He clung to her at those moments, whimpering as his mind replayed the screams over and over…
"He can't get what he saw in there out of his mind. What they did to Charles…" she shook her head. "He thinks it's his fault. He's in agony over it," the boys shifted on either side of her uncomfortably. Erik was their leader, the closest thing to a father figure besides Charles that they had had. To hear about him in such weakness…
"I would be angry at any other man," Hank admitted, softly. "For being in that cell with him and still not bringing him home, but… Not Erik. I know that he would have died to save Charles. I can't blame him knowing that," a nod of agreement from Jason.
"And…?" Emma was almost afraid to ask. "Cecilia?"
Jason inhaled a shuddering breath. "I've never seen her like this," he told them helplessly. "She's… crushed. She just sits in the library, not reading or anything, just staring at the spot where Charles usually…" Their secret place, where anyone might find one or the other of them reading to each other.
Emma was sure they had gotten through half of the library when Charles was taken. "She thinks it's her fault, too. As if she should have done something that night," Jason sighed.
"She would have been killed," Hank pointed out, appalled. Jason was silent for a long span of time, before he whispered desolately:
"Hank… She is dead. On the inside. She's just a shell now," as they all were. The house felt so empty without Charles Xavier in it. It felt so cold without his soft reassuring presence in the back of their minds, a protective eye set upon the premises. Every time the television came on, the children would swivel, almost expecting to see the professor just halfway across the country speaking about mutant rights or meeting with some important leader to debate the same. When the television showed nothing but Holly and Jim, their faces would fall. Sean had almost destroyed one of the T.V's out of pain.
Not that Emma blamed him. It was almost torture; expecting him to come home, knowing that is physical body was downstairs in the freezer because they didn't know where else to put him and no one wanted to let the media know yet. They weren't ready for the barrage of cameras, condolences and cries of outrage. Erik, especially, was not ready for the manhunt to find Mr. Xavier.
"Killing," he told them when it was brought up. "Does not bring peace. Only pain," and then he had retreated inside himself, as if the mere suggestion of vengeance sucked the life from him where once it would have fired him up.
Seeing Charles… Hurt, had taught him different lessons about revenge though.
"But we have to go," Hank continued. "He has to be buried. He…" His voice cracked upon remembering his mentor, his partner, his friend. "He would want us to move on," he forced out of his mouth.
Emma laid a hand on his arm and nodded. It was so… Morbid. The fact that he was to be buried in the backyard, but no one could think of a greater place. The graveyards which held others seemed too foreign for Charles. He needed to be buried where his heart had laid; with the school. With them.
Logan, she called telepathically. Are you ready? He, Alex and Sean were digging the hole.
As we'll ever be, he sent back remorsefully.
Emma stood and offered Hank and Jason her hands. They took them, squeezed and the three walked outside to see Alex, Sean and Logan situated around a large hole. A light snow had fallen the night before. It stuck to the ground like a bed of soft clouds.
Even the sky had seen it fit to give Charles a soft resting place.
The snowflakes twinkled on the frosty ground, but a ray of sunshine shown through the clouds. Behind them, a metal box, crafted lovingly and carved with the most intricate eye, sat on the ground. Charles's body was inside. Alex and Sean had tears already rolling down their cheeks. Logan's eyes were moist, but his face was poised into an unbreakable line of 'stay strong,' Emma could feel his insides trembling with the strain of it.
Children, she called with a deep breath. Come down, its time.
A few minutes later, Scott and Bobby appeared from inside. They both held a single blue flower in their hands. Blue was the color of equality and freedom. The sky. Of Charles's eyes. It was fitting.
Azazel and Riptide trailed them. Moira and Michael shadowed them. Next came Warren and Rogue, followed by Jean and Ororo, and finally Cassidy held the hand of Kitty, all of them dressed in black and carrying blue flowers of remorse. Raven came a second later, her blue skin tinted darker from the cold and dark clothes. She settled at Hank's side silently. He pulled her into his arms, tears already forming in his eyes.
Erik and Cecilia were the last ones to come out. Cecilia wore the veil of widowhood and remorse, her eyes drawn and dark with unhappiness. She was clinging to Erik's arm. Emma felt no jealousy. In that moment, the two of them were lovers in misery, partners in pain, caught in a web of love and then despair for this incredible man.
Erik's eyes were dull and blank behind what used to be dancing azures, his smile extinguished; he was grief's master and slave. They all settled in a circle around Charles's casket, and bowed their heads. After a moment of silence in which only a few remaining birds twittered sadly, Emma had to ask. "Does… Does anyone have anything to say?" There was another long stretch of silence. Then, Raven stepped forward.
Gently, she pressed her flower to the top of his closed casket. "Thank you for finding me, Charlie," she whispered, and then stepped back, hands clasped before her. And just as one of her phrases had done, the saying caught on. Because in truth Charles had found all of them. Each of them went in a line, pressing their flowers to the top of his casket, and whispering their heartfelt thankyou's.
Finally, they were done. Emma looked at Erik. He was staring at the casket with wide eyes, as if he were a child asking when his parents were going to wake up on Christmas day. "Ready?" Logan asked huskily.
Emma knew no one else would answer. She took a deep breath. You were a good friend, Charles. Goodbye. "Yes," she whispered.
"No!" They all jumped, startled by the sudden loud call. Emma swiveled around, irate that anyone would interrupt this moment, to see an elderly woman standing in the doorway, wide sapphire eyes trained in the casket. She had a white cloak wrapped around her head, but Emma could see a few straggles of gray hair and her face was wrinkled past all comprehension. She breathed with labored breaths as if she were dying. Emma tried to read her mind, but found it slippery to the touch, like a soapy countertop.
"Who are you?" Hank gasped.
"How did you get in here?" Moira added.
"Someone who can help him," she pointed to Charles's casket.
Emma took it she was a mutant with some extraordinary powers. Yet no power was more powerful than death. "He's dead," she spat, angered that this stranger should come and interrupt them. "There's no help to be given," the woman shook her head obstinately and walked towards them, trembling. In her hand was a long, gnarled cane.
"I can bring him back," she insisted.
"Fessors dead," Kitty pointed out again, her bottom lip trembling. "We have to put him in the ground now," her eyes filled with tears and Emma was all the more enraged towards this woman for forcing the child to say it.
"Please," the woman pleaded. There was sincere desperation in her voice. "I mean no harm. At least let me try. There's no harm in that, is there?" She asked. Great, a mentally insane person, that was just what they needed right now. Emma took a step forward about to forcibly remove this woman, but Erik put a restraining hand on her arm.
"Emma please," his voice was husky. She stopped and looked into his eyes. He turned and looked to Cecilia, staring at the woman gravely. "It's your decision. You owned his heart," Erik told her respectfully. Cecilia glanced at him momentarily, taking in Emma's readiness to get rid of this woman, and nodded. She took a step forward, coming face to face with the stranger.
"Why do you care what happens to him?" She inquired, softly. The woman bowed her head humbly.
"Because I have a debt to repay him," Emma and Erik exchanged suspicious looks. What debt could Charles possible have accumulated from this old woman? Cecilia judged her word true and nodded. She stood and gestured to the casket.
"Let her through," at the order, everyone back away, settling into a line on either side of the casket protectively. The woman squeezed Cecilia's hand, eyes briefly flicking to the green queen at her neck.
"Thank you, child," she breathed reverently. Then, wobbling forward faster than Emma would have imagined, the old woman fell to her knees besides Charles's casket and gently removed each flower form the top. With exquisite wonder, she placed them on the snow-covered ground.
Then, struggling slightly, she lifted the heavy casket lid. She gasped quietly upon seeing Charles in his broken state. "Oh, my boy," she moaned in anguish, briefly closing her eyes. Her shoulders bowed as if weighed down by impossible horror. Then, she settled a bony, wrinkled hand upon Charles's brow.
As the others watched, spell-bound and hopeful, she began to sign in a soft voice that swirled in the air over their heads until it was like the blowing of the wind. "Hush little baby, don't start crying. Mama's gonna get you a sister named Raven," That's creepy.
The words were hauntingly beautiful though, as if the sound coming from her voice was enveloping them in… In a spell. "And if that Raven bird don't sing, mama's gonna get you a little green queen," Emma glanced at Cecilia. The other woman was blurred by the thick fog in her mind. Vaguely, she registered the others falling, also succumbing to the lure of the woman's voice. What was happening to them?
"And if the green queen get's broke, Mama's gonna get you some nice new folks," The children. Erik. All of them. the family that had come after the pain of childhood Their faces flashed before Emma's eyes She did not register falling to her knees in the soft snow, the words of the woman echoing in her mind like church bells, lulling her to sleep at the same time a making her feel…Safe.
"And if those nice new folks go away, mama will buy you one more day," Just as he had bought day for all of them. Days of freedom, equality, justice. Emma's mind spun. The world tipped into whiteness, a light so bright it blinded her. Her heart thumped in her ears like a frightened rabbit while the words whistled through her clouded mind like the wind.
"And if in that day the sun don't shine, mama's gonna give you her whole life…" Emma gasped as her heart went ping. As if she had been transported by elevator from the depths of confusion and grief to the top floor of some grand precipice, stepping out into the rays of dawn, she now saw the sun again.
The sun had the face of Charles Xavier.
The woman had fallen next to the casket, face first. Her breathing rattled in her lungs. Yet sitting straight up with eyes fluttering was Charles Xavier. Emma gawked at him. Where a moment before his body had been broken, his face marred by bruising and pain, he now looked as healthy as the day she had first met him. His sapphire eyes sparkled with life; and his chocolate hair was as springy as the fluffy curls of sheep.
Emma wouldn't have believed it was true….Until she felt his psychic signature wrap around hers like a curious child probing at some long forgotten comfort, examining its every crevice for familiar signs of use. Then, of course, he had to look at them. His brows furrowed in confusion as he stared at them and Emma had the feeling that he had no idea who they were.
"Charles," she stood on wobbly feet. The others were gawking at the come-back-to-life body incredulously. "Do you know who I am?" She felt him probing at her mind, clumsily, like a newborn calf getting his footing. Then, recognition beamed in his face.
"Emma," he breathed. He smiled dazzlingly at her. Then, seeming to recall something important, scowled at her quizzically. "What happened?" he asked. Emma could only gesture helplessly to the woman on the ground. Her legs were still weak. She could already feel herself buckling back down to the ground. Charles's eyes followed her gesture. When he saw the woman, he gasped and fairly lunged forward to gently lift her by the shoulders.
When he turned her around, the shawl she wore slipped away, revealing her graying hair to still have streaks of blonde in it. Charles's eyes widened when he saw her face. "Mother," he identified.
Emma was very bewildered. Charles's mother was a…?
The dying stranger smiled sweetly and a shaking hand reached up to tenderly card through Charles's hair. "My son," she whispered sweetly.
"You're a mutant?" Charles nearly shrieked in shock. A single nod, then a cringe. Now Emma knew why she had not been able to read the other's mind. She had slight telepathic powers, very tiny, but still strong enough to build a half-decent shield around her psyche. "Why did you never tell me?" Charles gasped, feeling the same thing.
The woman-his mother-shook her head. "Too ashamed," she whispered. "Always scared your… Father wouldn't like it… Then you had it and I… I was too afraid. I'm sorry," she let out a rattling breath from deep in her lungs. Charles's eyes were moist as he gently touched her cheek.
"We haven't seen each other in years," he breathed tearfully. "Why would you come now?" Emma was wondering the same thing.
The mother weakly grasped at her son's hand. Charles gave it, holding her tightly. "I brought you… Into this life," she told him. "And never… Took care of…You right. Needed to make up… For it. Needed to repay my debt," Emma looked over to see Erik watching the scene with disbelief…
And gratitude.
"You're dying," Charles realized in dismay.
The woman nodded. "A life for a life," she agreed.
Charles held her against his chest tighter. "I never wanted this," he protested quietly.
She shook her head, eyelids fluttering closed. "It was my life… To give," she replied steadily. "You deserve it more… Than I do. I have done nothing with it... But fear for myself. You will do… So much more, yes?" It was a request. Charles nodded. A single tear ran down his face as he leaned down to kiss her weathered forehead.
"I promise," he agreed. "Thank you, mother," she gave him a proud grin and her eyes fluttered shut, face relaxed into bliss while she was held in her son's arms.
"No, son… Thank you," a slow breath gently ruffled his air as she breathed out her last. Emma watched as Charles tenderly set his mother back on the ground. Then, fairly shocking her to death, he stood up and stepped out of his casket.
He was standing.
Charles, also, seemed a bit surprised at this. He squeezed one leg experimentally. Apparently deciding that his legs were fully functional, he confidently bent down and picked up his mother. After setting her kindly into his casket, he turned around with a charming and happy grin.
His eyes roamed over their faces until they landed on Cecilia. He cocked a Charles-like eyebrow, and opened his arms. Tears sparkled in his eyes. "Is anyone going to give me a hug?" He wondered cheerfully.
For a moment, they only stared in shock at this ghost, this…. This…
At him.
Suddenly: "FESSOR!" Kitty launched herself at him, wrapping her arms around his waist joyfully. "You came back!" She laughed as Charles spun her around, laughing.
"Well, of course," Charles agreed, gently setting her down. "I couldn't very well miss Christmas, could I? I do believe I owe you a puppy," he told her, tapping her playfully on the nose. Kitty giggled.
"Do I get a puppy too, Charlie?" Raven asked, timidly stepping forward. Charles fixed her with an affectionate look.
"Anything for you, sister mine," and then Raven was in his arms, crying softly into his shoulder.
"I love you, Charles," she whispered. He hugged her tighter.
"I love you more," Sean stepped forward, tears running down his face, he wiped them away hurriedly and promptly hugged Charles from the back.
"Can I have a gerbil?" he muttered into his shoulder.
"What in the world do you want a rat for?"
Upon hearing the indignant response, the spell was broken for everyone else.
"CHARLES!" Cecilia suddenly screamed in joy, rushing forward to attack him in a vicious hug.
"Wow!" Charles cried out, stumbling backwards as the children followed suit, covering him in a thick layer of hugs and kisses. "You're walking, Charles!" Cecilia cried in delight, kissing him squarely on the mouth. Charles laughed, a little dazedly.
"It's glorious!" he agreed. Emma looked back at Erik, the only one still standing alone in the snow. She smiled and extended a hand.
"Erik," he looked up at her, tears streaming down his face. "Are you going to say hello?" A timid nod of fear before he grabbed her hand tightly in his, as if she were leading him to the throne of a revered king. Emma led Erik up to the standing and laughing Charles Xavier, surrounded by excited children and tearful family members. He looked up when Erik approached. Cecilia stepped away from the hug she had enveloped him in.
The two men stood face to face, reflections of each other. "Erik…" Charles glanced around at the children. Then he grinned. "Your promise… Thank you for keeping it," he breathed.
Erik blinked a few times, as if coming from a stupor. Suddenly, surprising them all, the metal bender threw himself into Charles's arms. "Never," he hissed into his ear as they slowly sunk to their knees together in the snow, like two halves that had finally become whole again. "Ever make me promise that again Charles!" he sobbed against his shoulder. "You bloody idiot!" He added.
Charles held Erik firmly against him, and laughed. "You bet," he vowed.