The Paths Home: Came In From a Rainy Thursday
Type of Story: Series
(The Paths Home:)
Characters: Most
all from the X-Men movies
Feedback: Emily_joyner@ureach.com (Please??
I love feedback!!)
Disclaimer: I don’t own them; I only play with them…
Additional Disclaimer: I’d like to think
that I’m being original here, but more than likely I’m not. If anyone else has read anything like this,
please let me know so that I can give credit where it’s due!
Song fic: Ordinary World by Duran Duran
(Words in italics are song lyrics)
Companion piece to Bleak Desolation and I’m Not a Man
Who Falls Too Easily.
A/N I: I
would like to thank everyone for their reviews of the first two fictions to
this series. I had to do some formatting
work and lost the original reviews in the process, but again, you have my
thanks and appreciation!
Came in from a rainy Thursday
On the Avenue
Thought I heard you talking softly.
Ororo walked into the mansion
after shopping that afternoon and paused in the foyer. She looked around at the walls, the spiraling
staircase, the paintings, the rugs, but she didn’t really see any of them. All she saw were her memories of Jean. And in the faintest field of her hearing, it
was almost like she could hear Jean’s soft, cultured voice speaking to her,
reminding her of how much she missed her best friend.
I turned on the lights, the TV, and the radio
Still I can’t escape the ghost of you.
What has happened to it all?
Crazy, some would say.
Where is the life that I recognize?
… Gone away…
Ororo sadly made her up the
stairs and to her suite of rooms and stopped in the doorway of the darkened
main room. She dreaded going in there
sometimes, the memories her rooms contained were numerous. She reached in the doorway and flicked on the
lights and made her way over to her entertainment center. She proceeded to turn on the TV (on the
Weather Channel, of course) and the radio where calming classical music began
flowing out, settling her. But still, on
the farthest edges of her senses, she could almost hear Jean.
She turned and looked at all
of the framed photographs on her table and smiled sadly. Jean always looked so vibrantly alive, the
air almost humming around her from her vitality. Jean swore it was because she was a redhead
and that if she dyed her hair brown, no one would notice her. But Ororo knew it was actually Jean
herself. Especially after her abilities
started to get stronger. But at no point
did Ororo ever think of her as anything other than ‘Jean – Best Friend’.
Sometimes, the ache of
missing her got to be too much. Ororo
would sit and look out her window, holding the charm bracelet with the little
lightening bolts on it and cry. Kurt would
always know and he’d come and comfort her.
She’d always ask the same thing of him: “What is happening? Why?”
And he’d always have the same
answer: “It’s crazy. There is no
reason. It just is.”
He’d hold her and she’d
accept his comfort. Her old life was
gone now. She didn’t recognize her new
one. All that remained was madness, it
seemed.
But I won’t cry for yesterday
There’s an ordinary world
Somehow I have to find.
And as I try to make my way
To the ordinary world
I will learn to survive.
This particular Thursday was
different, though. Ororo watched as the
rain washed away the chalk on the back patio from where the children had been
drawing. She watched as the red chalk
drawing of a fire truck blended into one large red splotch and began washing
into the flower beds. It was then that she
knew. She would always miss Jean, but
she had to come back to the world. She
had to live. Ororo would learn to
survive.
Passion or coincidence
Once prompted you to say
“Pride will tear us both apart.”
Charles looked out the
windows of his study and remembered Erik’s words. They were younger men then, headstrong, full
of ideals, full of pride. Ironic that
Erik would be the one to be right. He
had stated to Charles during their final argument that finally ended their
associations that their pride would be their downfall. ‘Foolish Pride’ Charles believed Erik called
it.
He sat there and thought
about Jean and how much he missed her.
She had been like a daughter to him and he’d loved her dearly. His original three students: Ororo, Scott and
Jean, all held special places in his heart, but Jean had been different. There was the mental bond he’d shared with
her due to her telepathic abilities. It
pained him greatly not have that comforting presence on the edges of his
being. He could only imagine how Scott
must be feeling.
He knew from the link she’d
used to communicate with Scott that she’d believed that she would survive the
explosion of water. But he felt the
moment she realized that this was not going to be the case. He felt her acceptance and he felt her sorrow
at leaving them. But he would never
forget her final works to him, before she closed the link…
“It’s not your fault.”
Well now pride’s gone out the window, across the
rooftops, run away
Left me in the vacuum of my heart.
What is happening to me?
Crazy, some would say.
Where is my friend when I need you most?
… Gone away…
It was his fault,
however. Erik was right. Charles’ pride and arrogance had brought them
this pain. His pride had nearly cost all
of the helpless children at the mansion their home. His pride had, in fact, actually killed
humans and mutants alike while he was in the second Cerebro. His pride had brought pain and suffering to
millions. And now he could only feel
gaping emptiness in his heart. His pain
and guilt were overwhelming him to the point of almost being blank in
everything. Combined with the grief
within the mansion, it was taking everything Charles had in him not to succumb
to the madness threatening to overtake him.
He didn’t understand what was happening to him. But he knew he needed Erik. He needed to talk to Erik about everything
that had been happening. But Erik was
gone and Charles couldn’t find him.
Papers in the roadside tell of suffering and greed
Feared today, forgot tomorrow.
Here beside the news of holy wars and holy need
Ours is just a little sorrow, that’s all.
Charles looked over at the
newspapers on his desk and felt an aching sadness. His whole world had just fallen apart; people
had died tragic deaths, millions suffered at his hands, and all that the news
reported were bombings in foreign restaurants and political scandals involving
faceless cabinet members and assistants.
Agendas that had been feared and conspired against had been forgotten
about with the news about Holy Jihads and Pope assassination attempts. In the grand scheme of things, his grief over
Jean and Erik were nameless and unimportant and it offended him. He’d lost his daughter and lost his best
friend all over again. And he didn’t
know if he could get through this war any longer. It was wearing on him.
But I won’t cry for yesterday
There’s an ordinary world
Somehow I have to find.
And as I try to make my way
To the ordinary world
I will learn to survive.
This particular Thursday was
different, though. Charles watched as
the rain washed away the chalk on the back patio from where the children had
been drawing. He watched as the red
chalk drawing of a fire truck blended into one large red splotch and began
washing into the flower beds. He could
feel Ororo grieving in her suite of rooms, he could sense Scott and Marie
comforting each other, and he could tell