Little post-X3 bunny nipped me last night. I indulged. It's nothing much, but hey, why not.
Out of the Ashes
a series of post-X3 drabbles
spoilers galore
It bothers Logan sometimes that they never found Scott's body. Of course they wouldn't have, there is no body, they all witnessed firsthand the results of the Phoenix's rage. There was no body for Xavier, either; but that's different, somehow, because Logan was there, he saw the old man go, he knows it happened. But no one saw Scott die, and it inexplicably bothers him.
He never mentions it. The others are too eager to move on, leave the past behind, and besides, he doesn't want to sound like he cares. He's cared too much already. He's tired of caring.
*
Ororo never used to be a team player. Her childhood was spent in the Cairo slums, scrapping and stealing herself a living, fighting the other gutter brats for dominance. Once a bolt of lightning came out of a clear sky and killed a rival pickpocket; she thought it was divine retribution. Xavier came and took her away, but she still fought back, sneaking cigarettes behind hedges and slipping out for wild nights on the town.
She runs the school now, speaks only of friendship and loyalty. But sometimes, late at night, she plays with lightning and itches for a fight.
*
The freedom she bought herself has its restrictions. Her government-sanctioned apartment is thoroughly bugged. Men in dark cars follow her to her government-sanctioned job. They're more than happy to use her skills with computers, but her access is limited and they mainly keep her on repairs. She never resists. She never tries to slip anything past the system. She never even complains.
They begin to lose interest in her.
One morning, she finds a patch of blue on her left hip. She smiles and shifts it back to match the rest of her still-human body.
Mystique is a patient woman.
*
Pyro wakes up with a bitch of a headache and bodies strewn around him. He pulls himself painfully to his feet, steals a dead soldier's uniform, and plays human when the inevitable cleanup crew comes. He's got a good face for blending in. And maybe Iceman was right, maybe he's got a thing or two left to learn.
Don't make your move until the situation is ripe for it. Pyro gets it now. He suppresses his anger, lets it fester. The old guard are all gone, but new mutants are born every day. And when they're ready, he'll be there.
*
Bobby's pretty sure he didn't kill John, and sure enough, watching a news clip on the aftermath of Alcatraz Island, he catches a glimpse of medics assisting a very familiar young man wearing a soldier's uniform.
He used to wonder why the Professor didn't just kill Magneto and have done with it, but now he thinks he understands. As long as Xavier and Magneto kept fighting, there was always the possibility that Magneto might be won over. As long as Magneto was still alive, there was hope.
Bobby knows his path and John's will cross again someday. He can't wait.
*
Marie never realized how much she'd relied on her power as an emotional crutch. It was her scapegoat, her excuse; why Logan wouldn't love her, why Bobby was drifting away, why intimacy made her uncomfortable.
She can fuck Bobby now. It doesn't change a damn thing. She still doesn't like letting people close; she can't hurt them now, but she's scared they might hurt her. This is her life, she realizes. There is no cure.
One day she touches Bobby, feels that old familiar sick-seductive pull, and knows. Rogue slips her silk gloves back on with a sigh of relief.
*
Peter is the perfect soldier. He's large, strong, decisive. He's a physical being. He's never asked to think, to strategize, just to act.
Peter does think, though. He thinks they've been lulled into a false sense of security. He thinks battles should be chosen wisely. He thinks one mutant boy wasn't worth the many lives lost. He thinks eliminating Magneto means ten more will soon take his place. He thinks they've now thoroughly alienated people who should've been their most valuable allies. He thinks Magneto may have been right.
But nobody asks Peter what he thinks, so he says nothing.
*
Erik never felt old before. Mathematically speaking, he'd known he was getting on in years; but now his hands tremble and he needs an extra blanket to ward off the cold. A tired old man with nothing left to fight for.
And no one left to fight.
"I always thought I'd be the one to kill you," he tells the empty air.
Well, next time, perhaps.
Charles's voice in his head is so clear, so dryly affectionate, so Charles, that Erik actually starts, looking around for the source.
Charles isn't there, of course. Charles is dead.
Even so, Erik wonders.
*
In old myths, there is a firebird with magnificent plumage and long life. Five hundred years the phoenix lives, some say; others say a millennium, or more. But at last the phoenix dies, as all empires so must fall; it gathers a nest, bursts into flame, and perishes. And out of the ashes, a new phoenix is born. She rises.
Hank knows it'll take a lot of work to build this new world, but he's ready. Overly idealistic, perhaps, but he feels he's old enough to indulge in sentimentality.
One evening, the phone rings. It's Moira. She has interesting news.