WHERE THE HEART IS
PART TWO
"How ya doin’
chere?"
"I am fine Remy. Look
at this."
Storm was sitting under a
tree on the edge of the forest behind the mansion. She was surrounded by photo
albums and portfolios, which Gambit had to be careful of as he moved to sit
beside her. She was showing him a photograph from the portfolio in front of
her.
"What dis?"
"These are the first
pictures my father ever took of my mother. It was in her village, when they
first met." She smiled to herself. "They told me the story many
times. My father was on photo assignment for Times Magazine. He was to
take pictures of this village and its inhabitants in their everyday lives. . .
something about tribal life in the late 20th Century. He loved my
mother from the moment he first laid eyes on her, and as such, she occupied a
great deal of his film. After a week or so, she asked him if her picture would
be seen around the world and when she would be able to see a copy of the
magazine. He told her never. She would never see her face in that
magazine. At first he said that as far as he was concerned, she was too
beautiful to be fully appreciated by the world. Then he admitted that his true
motive was a more selfish one. He wanted to keep her beauty to himself. He
didn’t want to share her with the rest of the world, regardless of whether or
not they could handle it.
"{Whistle} Can’t say I
blame d’man. You’ mama was gorgeous! Look jus’ like her too chere."
Storm simply smiled. They
continued to look at the various pictures Ororo had brought home from the
storage locker.
"You, uh. . . you gone
to d’cem’tery yet, Stormy?"
". . .No. Not
yet."
"S’been t’ree weeks
chere."
"I know that."
"You scared?"
"No."
"You scared."
"I. . . do not know what
is keeping me away." Storm leaned back against the tree. "I—I wake up
every morning and say to myself, This will be the day that I go., and
yet I never do. Why can I not do this simple thing?"
"Cause maybe it ain’t
dat simple. If you want, Gambit go wit you."
"Thank you, no. This
is something I feel I need to do by myself. That is of course if I ever get
around to doing it."
"You go when you ready
petite."
"Petite? You have not
called me that since I was that."
"You seem’ kinda small
jus’ then. Maybe a familiar phrase make you feel bigger, non?"
"What are you talking
about?"
"I have no idea. Jus’
ramblin’. Get your mind off t’ings."
Storm hugged Remy’s arm and
rested her head on his shoulder.
"What would I do
without you, dear Remy?"
"Wanna find out?"
"Do not even joke
about that. Do you not know how important you are to me Remy? We are connected.
We are family. . ."
"An’ I be d’black
sheep dat ev’rybody want to keep hidden in de attic."
"Remy? Where is all of
this coming from?"
". . ."
"Remy?"
"I didn’ jus’ come out
here t’hang out chere. Got somet’ing I wan’ t’tell you."
"Tell me?"
"{Sigh} I be leavin’
Stormy."
". . .No. You are
not."
"It’s true
Stormy."
"I did not say that as
a statement of disbelief. I said it as a statement of fact. You are not
leaving."
"Chere--"
"No!"
"I almost got you
killed!"
". . . What?"
". . ."
"Remy. . . look at
me."
He wouldn’t. Then it dawned
on her. She used both hands to turn Remy’s face towards hers.
"It was not your
fault."
"Sto--"
"It was not
your fault. You are not one of them. You did not know we would be ambushed. You
did not know he would be there. It was not - your - fault."
"I created
d’Marauders. Ev’ryt’ing dey do, ev’ryone dey hurt, ev’ryone dey kill. . . it is
my fault, it’s on my head. I could push dat to de back of my mind mosta d’time,
even when d’Morlocks got slaughtered, I didn’ know any of dem. But you. . . I
can’t push dat from my mind. When I saw. . . When Creed. . . Dat was d’last. My
bein’ here puts you and d’oders in danger. I can’t let dat happen. I won’t let
dat happen."
"You foolish. . .
think about it Remy. You being a part of the team is an asset, now more than
ever. You have more knowledge, more insight into the behavior of the Marauders
than anyone! That helps us, not hinders us. Trust your big sister
on this one."
"Big? Jus’ by two
years chere. Don’ make dat much a diff’rence."
"Apparently it makes
some difference in vision if you are this blind. Do you not see your
leaving would be more painful to me than anything Creed has done."
Her voice cracked with the last sentence and there were tears forming in her
eyes.
Remy closed his eyes. He
couldn’t stand the sight of Storm crying, especially if he was the cause.
"I’ll t’ink ‘bout it,
Stormy."
She dropped her hands.
"There is nothing to think about." She said, the strength and
determination returning to her voice. "You are not going anywhere. If I
must tie you to a chair and have Hank sit on you, you will be staying!"
"Oro--"
"End of
discussion."
* * * * *
Ororo was just coming down
from her attic apartment when Sam stopped her. She found this especially odd
since Sam was usually one of the first to the breakfast table and one of the
last to leave. He required a great deal of energy to sustain his blasting
power, though she suspected that with the sheer amounts he ingested he was
probably overcompensating.
"Uh, Storm, ma’am,
before you go down there, I think I oughta warn ya about somethin’."
"What is it Sam?"
"Well. . . Sara’s
back."
". . ."
"She’s
downstairs."
"Thank you,
Samuel."
She did not need this.
Ororo had spent the rest of the previous day and the better part of the night
arguing with Remy before she felt confidant enough that he would not be running
off. She had only gotten a couple hours of sleep, and now this.
Several months ago, before
Scott and Jean had returned, before Rafe, Marrow had disappeared. One morning,
she was simply gone. Sam, ever the Boy Scout, later found that she had been
living back in the sewers with a small band of Morlocks. Storm could not
honestly say she was sorry to see the young girl go.
Storm entered the kitchen,
Sam walking anxiously behind her.
"Good morning,
everyone."
The X-Men situated around
the large kitchen gave their various greetings.
One narrowed eye peeked out
from behind the open refrigerator door. The head turned its attention back to
the fridge and a moment later, the bottom half of an upturned orange juice
bottle appeared over the top of the door.
Marrow slammed the door
shut, still drinking directly from the bottle.
‘Calm,’ Storm said to herself. ‘Remain calm.’
Marrow walked towards her,
still drinking. She finished the bottle just before reaching Storm and as she
passed the Wind Rider, Marrow handed the empty container to her.
Actually she would have slammed the thing into Storm’s chest if Storm had not quickly
raised her hands to catch it. She walked past Storm and out of the kitchen
without further incident. Seconds later, they heard the basement door slam.
"Storm?"
"85, 84,83. . ."
Storm was quietly counting to herself.
"Ro?"
She placed the empty container
in the recycling bin and took a deep breath.
"76. . ." I am
fine." She said holding her hands up. She took a seat at the table.
"Remy, good to see you."
Gambit gave her a look. She
smiled.
Morning conversation
returned to normal, for the most part.
Sam was lost in thought. He
had always been perplexed by Ororo’s adimate dislike of Sara. He understood
that she had done horrible things in her past, but then again, so had Gambit
and she had forgiven him. Storm herself had not always been a model
citizen. The reason she was so against Sara had escaped him.
It had not however escaped
Wolverine, who was quietly drinking his coffee at the end of the table. He
better than anyone knew what Storm was going through for two reasons. First of
all, he was there. He saw Storm battle the wild girl. Marrow had attached a
bomb to her heart. Storm was given a choice. Let innocent people die, or rip
out Marrow’s heart and stop the countdown.
‘Choice woulda been
simple enough for me or most people these days.’ He’d thought. But for ‘Roro. . . She had made
a vow never to take a life, even at the cost of her own. Which brought
him to reason two: honor. While it was possible to say, most of the team were
honorable in their intentions, but in truth, aside from himself, Storm was the
only one he felt truly lived by a code of honor. Marrow had forced Storm
to break that code to save those people. Later, finding out it was a trick did
not serve to ease Storm’s self-torment. Regardless of the reason or result,
Storm had intentionally attempted to take a life. And that was something that
would weigh on her for the rest of her life. She hated Marrow for that.
‘She’s gotta let it go.’ Wolverine thought. ‘Hate’s an
honest feelin’ but if ya don’t learn t’overcome it, t’let it go, it’ll
eat you alive, and your enemy wins.’ He didn’t want to see that happen to
Storm. He wasn’t going to let it.
She meant too much to him.
* * * * *
Logan had offered to go
with her, as had Jean, Remy, Hank and everyone else in the house. (Well, nearly
everyone.) She had also turned down Rafe’s offer. This was something Storm felt
she needed to do on her own. She did however indicate that she might appreciate
someone to be home when she returned.
It was a gray autumn
morning, and the wind had picked up scattering dead and dying leaves threw the
air. Ironically, though they fit her task and mood, Ororo was causing none of
this. Inside, she was still and unmoving.
She stood at the gates of
the cemetery looking at the crude map Marlene had drawn for her. ‘Twelve
rows up, twenty nine down on the left.’
Flying would have been
faster, but she chose to walk. She reached the twelfth row and the world
started to slow down. At least it that was the way the world seemed to her:
everything moving in slow motion, but she knew it was her pace which was
slowing.
‘Sixteen, seventeen,
eighteen. . . What I would pay to see a Sentinel right now.’ She ran a nervous
hand through her hair. ‘Twenty six, twenty seven, twenty eight…’
Erected To Honor Two Who Lie Here, And The Memory Of One Who Does Not
David And N’Dare Monroe, Faithful Lovers, Loving Parents, Truest Friends
May They Rest Together Forever
And Be Reunited With Their Sweet Daughter Ororo In Heaven
All Gone Too Soon
May Their Souls Find Peace
Ororo stood silently
staring. No thoughts, no words, no movement. Her face revealed nothing. She
remained as such for several minutes. Then, just as quietly she knelt down and
ran her hands over the engraved words. The wide headstone was made of a black
shiny marble that remained smooth and cool to the touch. Ororo summoned the
forces that were at her will and effectively erased the line that displayed her
name. The same elements were then used to smooth the altered stone.
Her hand still on the
monument, Ororo lay down on her side, across the connected graves. Her legs
slightly bent in a near fetal manner, Ororo finally let the tears fall and the
rain from the sky with it.
‘I miss you both so very
much. I cannot be with you now. Someday.’
"But not yet."
She whispered through the tears.
"Not yet."
The End