Disclaimer: I didn’t make the assorted X-Peoples, nor any else in the Marvel
Universe. I merely took what they had and did it my way. The only people
that are mine are Andre, Hiatus, and Collate. Oh, and don’t sue me. Not
that you would. Just don’t.
Author’s Note: < > means they’re speaking in French
Just Like The Old Times
Epilogue: Recourse
Piotr Rasputin lay in his coffin on the shore of Muir Island. A group of
cold people huddled together, watching him being let down in his grave.
These were the same people that cared for him for the past few months, the
same people who loved him, and the same people who watched him die.
His sister, for whom his noble sacrifice was made, had chose to stay in her
room, alone. At times like these, that was the only way she knew how to deal
with things.
His friends had gone crazy all morning. After coming home, they’d all had
their own ways to find recourse. His sister had gone crazy finding him a
gravestone, and then fixing it with Meggan to make it just right. His friend
Rahne had cried for a long time, consoled by the living vessel for the last
person she’d cried for, Douglock. His doctor, Moira, had shut herself off
mentally to make all the correct preparations on her friend’s and fallen
teammate’s dead body. The man he had once so brutally attacked and nearly
murdered sat outside on the godforsaken rock of Muir Island, and smoked. And
cried.
His old teammates had been notified, and it was decided that they would have
an official funeral when there was time to sufficiently do so, and when their
disappeared teammate was returned.
Steps had been taken to find their other fallen teammate, but wherever she
was it was an odd place undetectable. They had a certain area pinpointed
down, though, and were planning on going off to find her as soon as they had
finished with the funeral.
***
<"In other news, today a town suffered the effects of drunk driving. A
young couple with one son was murdered last night when hit by a large truck
driven by a drunk driver. The town
has suffered some damage due to the accident, but the local authorities are
working on a
solution," the anchor said. "At NATO today…"
The televisions droned on in front of Meggan. She sat in one of Moira’s
labs made to filter information to the mutant team. Meggan sometimes came in
here and pondered the events of the world, and sometimes she just sat in
front of the television and spaced out.
This was one of those times. She barely heard the TV mention the recent
death as tears rolled down her cheek.
<"Come play with me,"> a small voice whispered to her from behind.
She swiftly turned around to investigate the foreign voice, but saw that
she was still the room’s sole occupant. Frowning curiously, she turned back
to face the television.
<"Please,"> the same voice returned. "Momma and Papa can’t. I like to
play."
Meggan turned around, and this time saw a small, plastic, red fire-engine
roll across the floor in her direction.
Brow furrowing, she reached to turn the television off and saw it already
was off. Brow furrowing, she stood up and walked over to the truck, bending
over to pick it up.
It was a regular toy engine, just like any other. Meggan couldn’t sense or
see anything different about it.
<"Boink,"> a voice said, as a little black haired boy with blue eyes
appeared in front of Meggan, levitating on the air. He grinned, and then
pushed Meggan’s nose. She reached for him, but her arms only grabbed air,
and he disappeared.
<"You’re fun!"> he giggled.
Douglock walked down the hall and saw Meggan lose her balance from where she
kneeled. "Query, is Meggan engaging in some unknown sport?" Douglock
quizzically asked.
"No," Meggan paused, glancing around the room. "I don’t think so."
"Well, the funeral is beginning. Perhaps I shall assist you to it?"
Douglock gallantly offered an arm to her.
Meggan smiled weekly, wrapping her arm through Douglock’s. They walked to
the funeral, as the television turned back on. Flipping through the
channels, it landed on a cartoon about superheroes. The room was filled with
the sound of an echoing giggle, and then the giggle, and the toy engine,
disappeared.
***
"Miss Locke," a red-headed, freckled man asked. "Are you read to proceed on
schedule?"
"Yes, I am," she smiled, wrapping her arm around the short, seated man. "Of
course I am."
"Good," he responded. "Our employers made it clear what they want us to do
with these two."
"I know," she said, running her finger down his cheek.
"They’re very important, and won’t be easy to take in," he continued.
"I know," she said, grabbing the drink out of his hand and setting it on the
counter.
"It’s not going to be easy at-"
He was interrupted by the tall woman who abruptly kissed him. He stood up
and followed her out of the room, laughing.
Under the drink she had set down was a newspaper with a picture of a certain
demon sorceress/flight attendant and Brad Pitt. In the picture, Brad Pitt
had cake in his face and the sorceress was giggling over him, hugging him and
smiling at the cameras.
***
"And here he will lie. May he rest in peace," Meggan finished. In front of
her stood a sobbing Moira MacTaggert, a weeping Rahne hugged and comforted by
a forlorn Douglock, a scowling Pete Wisdom, and a teary eyed Illyana, whose
hair flew about in the wind. She just stood there, defiantly and stoically.
Meggan stood by the grave marker, and glanced the group over.
"Come, let’s go inside," Moira insisted. Meggan walked in with her, and
everyone but Illyana followed.
She stood by the grave marker. It was a marble and crystal structure, and
had been made through the combined effort of funeral parlors across Europe,
Illyana’s powers, and Meggan’s powers.
It glinted in the falling light.
The grave marker was a sword stuck in a stone. The sword was made of
shining crystal, and it glittered in the faintest rays light, making rainbows
out of the merest of sunlight. The sword was set in black marble, and on the
marble was an inscription that read: "Here lies Piotr Nikolotevitch Rasputin.
He died in battle, saving others. Let this crystal shine and give us beauty
and hope, much like he did. But nothing will be able to fully replace him.
He will always be with us in our hearts."
Kneeling over the inscription, Illyana let out a sob, and she began to cry.
What good was a new, beautiful world when you were all alone?
The End
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