8

Scott puts his arm on Storm's shoulder and speaks in her ear: "Do I know how to close down a room or what?"

Storm looks around the foyer at the contrary evidence. The service has been over for two hours, it is past bedtime for most of the students, but hardly anyone has left, or shown signs of wanting to. "What you said was perfect," Storm answers. "I mean –"

"I know what you mean. And as for perfect, you –" He steps back to look her in the eye; she has known him long enough to tell when he's doing that, even behind the glasses. "—You really pulled all this together. All these people. Amazing. And – oh God, the music, was that your idea?"

"Yes," Storm says, and doesn't correct herself when she remembers its' a lie.

"That was brilliant. That day in Newport. Jesus." He frowns. "Where's Si, anyway?"

" Sydney."

"Oh. Right. With Bono. He was supposed to get an autograph for –" Scott swallows. "Well, for me, honestly. Though what I really want is a picture without the glasses on."

"You'd just cry 'PhotoShop,'" she answers and, before he can protest, "If Bono was a mutant, he would have said it on the cover of People by now."

"I can see the headline. 'Yep, I'm a freak of nature.'" He gives a thin smile and looks at his watch. "We should get these kids off to bed. Logan's probably already gotten into the beer."

The accusation seems unjust. Logan is actually standing behind Kitty, Rogue, and Bobby, as they awkwardly chat with Jean's parents and brother.

"Your reading was so lovely, dear," Elaine is saying, as Scott and Storm approach.

Kitty, usually not the most modest or retiring of the students, dips her head and shrugs. "You know. I got it out of a book. Rogue and Bobby did all that work on the movie."

"Goodness, are you Rogue?" Elaine turns to the girl, who stiffly offers a gloved hand; Elaine does not try to hug her. "Jean talks so much about you. Such a good student, so helpful."

Rogue stammers, "Thank you. Miss Grey was my favorite –" She chokes then recovers to say, "Are you sure you don't have me mixed up with Kitty?"

"Oh stop," says Kitty, and to Elaine, adds, "Everybody knows how awesome Rogue is except Rogue." She playfully swats at the other girl's shoulder, letting her hand phase at the last second to pass through. Storm has seen this before, and notices once again that Rogue likes the trick a lot less than Kitty does. She decides to mention it to Kitty – later.

At this moment, Danny Grey is gawking. "Holy crap!" He reaches his hand out to Kitty. "Can I?"

"Sure."

He tries to touch her, but her outline blinks and the hand passes through her arm. Despite his lean soldier's face and sharp dress uniform, Danny's eyes light up in childish wonder as he pronounces, "That is the coolest thing I have ever seen."

"Flyboy's got a new hero," Scott says. "It's official. I can retire." With a glance at the three students, he adds, "Speaking of retire –"

Before Scott can finish, John Grey reaches past him to offer a hand to Logan. "I'm sorry, I keep seeing you, but I don't think we've met."

"My name's Logan."

"Yes, of course. Mister Logan." Jean's mother extends a hand politely, but the name clearly means nothing to her.

"We sometimes call him Wolverine," Rogue interjects.

Elaine looks curiously at his hair, seems to decide that explains the name, and asks, "Do you work here at the school?"

Scott inclines his head, and settles his gaze on Logan. Storm knows that his shielded eyes can have an unsettling effect, even when you're used to it. She has a sudden feeling that Scott's carefully preserved control might not survive listening to Logan talk about Jean to her parents. "Just passing through. I'm a friend –" Logan begins. He pauses and – whether from self-preservation, or some previously unsuspected sense of tact, finishes – "a friend of Rogue's."

Scott's jaw relaxes. More stiff pleasantries follow, and when the students turn for their exit, Logan follows. Apparently, though, the sum total of tact between Logan and Rogue can never equal more than zero, because the girl's voice travels back. "Great, Logan. Now Jean's folks think you're my pervy cradle-robbing boyfriend."

"What?" demands Logan, at the same time Bobby yelps, "Hey!"

Scott's starts to cough, furiously. His hand flies to his mouth, and in a second he's bent over. Storm and Danny both rush to him, but he holds them off. "Okay," he gasps, I'm okay, just –" Quietly, he says, "That's the best thing I've heard all day." From close up, Storm can see that he's laughing, and that his cheeks are covered with tears. He wipes the water away then looks down at his wet finger. "Huh. Guess they're working again. That probably means it's time to drink."

Logan has stopped, a few feet away; he looks over his shoulder, but doesn't move to join them. When Scott seems all right, he turns his back again.

Elaine, clearly puzzled by everything that's just happened, asks Scott, "Who is that?"

"Just some guy," Scott answers, still drying his cheeks. "Doesn't matter at all."

9

When the students go to bed, the alcohol comes out. Scott stops to tell Storm that Jean's parents are going back to their hotel, while he and Danny are taking a six-pack to "get sloppy drunk" somewhere more private. Storm thinks there's an implied invitation to join them but she ignores it. She doesn't blame him for wanting to let things slide, after the week they've had, but she isn't ready to do it herself. Someone has to fly the goddamned plane, flashes back into her mind.

Once Scott slips out, Storm makes a round of the room, marveling at all of the old faces. Funerals, she reflects, are the class reunions no one wants to come to – yet we can't stand to leave. The only thing that might have brought more of Xavier's old denizens together would have been if Scott and Jean had been able to take a break from their angsting and but-what-ifs long enough to actually tie the knot. Though maybe even then –

She reaches her hand into the cooler to pick up a bottle, but someone has already placed one in her hand. "Have a Molson's. None of that American crap."

" Logan." Storm smiles as he extends a claw far enough to flick off the cap. "Nice party trick."

He shrugs. "I got nothin' on controlling tornadoes and shit but –"

"It's a little hard to show off inside," Storm admits. She takes a sip and glances back into the main room. By now, people have grouped off into their own corners and cliques. Storm has already greeted everyone and now she feels entitled to pull back. She's heard too many people trying to make business deals or dates, and it makes sense – most of them haven't seen each other in ages – but at the moment she would rather be alone.

Or with Logan, which feels like the same thing. He looks over her shoulder, out into the room, and then they both pull back into the kitchen. "You know all those people?" he asks.

"Most," she says. "A few new spouses, new kids, but more or less –"

He whistles. "I'm not even sure I've ever i>seen /i> that many people. Much less know their names." She has no idea whether he thinks this is good or bad. She wonders if he does. "The Professor said you pulled this altogether."

"Everybody helped."

"We all helped but – you secretly run this place, don't you?"

Storm raises an eyebrow. "I didn't realize it was secret." She steps closer and clinks her bottle against his. "You've been a great help, too. I know you didn't have to stay –"

"Where else am I gonna go?"

"That won't work," she answers. "Everyone has choices. I think you secretly like being one of the good guys."

He takes a long drink, looks at the floor, then raises his eyes to her. They're yellow eyes, flecked with green, and she realizes that she's gotten so used to talking to Scott, she's forgotten how much eyes can express. "That was one of the last things I remember saying to her. 'I can be the good guy.'"

"More information would probably ruin that moment a little," Storm guesses. She can pretty much imagine the conversation, can even guess when it was – Jean walking back into the jet. How's Logan? Don't ask.

"Yeah. It wasn't an example of my best behavior." He takes another swig. "Speaking of which, I now have proof that I actually am the guy that girls don't write home about. I can't decide whether I like that or not."

"Technically, we were treating any information about you as top secret."

"Hmm." He shakes his head. "Scott's right. It doesn't matter."

"He didn't mean that. He shouldn't have said it."

"'Shouldn't have said' and 'didn't mean' are different things." Logan smiles. "You're talking to a guy who knows. But he is right. All these people, everybody – You're part of something. You all grew up together. I never really appreciated that until I heard him –" He stops, drinks. "Now all that stuff about poems and study halls, or whatever, I didn't really follow that. I'm not much of a reader."

"Jean wasn't either," Storm admits. "Even science – you'd give her a book for five minutes, and she would rather be in the lab, trying it for herself."

Logan wrinkles his nose. "She really did like to poke and prod a guy." When Storm raises her eyebrows, he amends, "All in the name of science, of course. But listening to Summers, and the professor, I really did wish I'd done more reading. Last time I felt that way – Well, all right –" A flick of the eyes, that crooked grin, and suddenly he's flirting with her. He doesn't mean anything by it, she's fairly sure. This is just Logan's way of being in the world, and after this week, it comes as a blessed relief. "So I'm in this hole-in-the-wall pub in Saskatchewan, and there's some co-ed –"

"Co-ed? Was this in 1972?"

"It might have been," he breezes. "Well, some college girl – blonde, but she says she just got back from a semester in India. She starts telling me about the Eastern spiritual outlook, and meditation, and I'm sort of going with it. And then it comes up that she's got a copy of the Kama Sutra back in her room, and do I want to come study it with her?"

He meets her eyes. Don't encourage him, thinks Storm. She manages to keep a straight face as she takes another drink. Then she gives up, and encourages him. "And --?"

"And I think she's trying to convert me into some cult with, whatever. Vows of silence and herbal tea. I make some excuse, and I get out of there." He shrugs elaborately, and finishes his beer, then heads to the fridge for two more. "Apparently, she was talking about sex. I didn't figure that out until a lot later."

Storm answers gravely. "It was her loss."

"Obviously." He uncaps both bottles, and hands her one. They clink together, and Logan says, "Still. I should read more." Then he looks past Storm and raises his bottle. "Hey, Professor."

" Logan. Ororo." Charles Xavier navigates into the kitchen.

Storm bends to hug him and says, sympathetically, "Need to get away from the crowd?"

Logan kicks the door shut behind them, and raises his Molson. "Need some real beer."

"No thank you," he answers Logan, almost managing to hide a look of distaste, then smiles at Storm. "I was looking for you." Logan starts to step away, and Xavier corrects, "Both of you. I am about to turn in, and I wanted to thank you both --"

Logan opens his mouth, probably to say it's nothing, but a look from Xavier stops him. It's possible, Storm thinks, that 'Don't interrupt the Professor' will get through to him yet.

" – for all the work you've done." He gives Logan a look that says, Yes, you may speak now.

"I'm just some guy. Doing what I can. It doesn't mean I'm –" Xavier's eyes meet his, and then Logan shrugs. "I haven't decided anything yet." He looks at the floor now and says, "Nice talk. I didn't follow all of the King Arthur stuff, but – it makes me think I oughta read more. I was just telling Storm about this time –"

"I know what you were just telling Storm, Logan, and thank you."

Logan grins faintly, slouches against the counter and says, as though it's just a passing thought, "How's Scott, then?"

"Oh," Storm says, "He went off with Danny – Jean's brother. Said they needed space."

"Oh," Logan looks up, surprised. Storm wonders if he's been imagining that it would be him and Scott, together with beers at the end of the day.

It takes her a second to realize that Xavier is surprised as well. In his expectations, the day must end with Scott in his office, solemnly absorbing words of wisdom. "Of course, it is natural," Xavier recovers, "for Scott to become – for a lack of a better word – jealous in his grief. He may become reluctant to share his loss with others."

Storm remembers Scott on the jet, almost daring Xavier to claim Jean as part of his family. "Even if it's you," she says.

"Or me," says Logan.

The others both stare at him, until Xavier corrects, "Even if it is I. Especially if it's you."

"Hmm." Logan looks down at his bottle. "You can tell that from reading his mind?"

Storm assumes this is a joke, but Logan looks quite serious, and she has to remember how much of what she takes for granted is new to him.

The professor fights back a smile as he says, "That certainly would be one approach. But even if it were ethical to read Scott's mind and share the results with the rest of you –" Storm can't quite figure out whether it's the reading or the sharing that Xavier is refusing to do " – it isn't necessary. I have known Scott for a very long time. Since he was a boy." Now he looks at Logan. "If you don't mind, I believe I will have one of those beverages." When Logan goes to pop the top, he adds, "In a glass."

In the wake of today's horde, a red plastic cup is the best he can come up with. He pours it with obvious distaste, but hardly any foam, and hands it to Storm, who hands it to Xavier.

"I have been thinking," the Professor says, "about the poem Scott chose. In light of the story of Tennyson's life, which Scott surely knows – if only in the back of his mind -- the selection seems to possess a certain significance." Xavier stops, as though expecting them to fill in the blanks.

"I think I need to phone a friend, Regis," says Logan. "I know this really smart lady who teaches high school."

"I teach French," Storm mumbles, but she has logged enough hours in a Charles Xavier classroom to know she won't be getting away with that. "Well, Tennyson had a friend who died when they were both young. He wrote a poem about his grief -- how he worked it all out. 'Better to have loved and lost'."

"In a way," answers Xavier. "Yet it took him seventeen years to write that poem. To – as you say – work it out. Tennyson lived to be an old man – loved, respected, honored. Wealthy. He had success in every sense that the world could offer. Yet many would say that this early grief – the sense of loss – flowed through everything that he wrote. He may indeed have worked through his grief, but when he was finished – he was a different man." Xavier smiles. "In the days of those, to steal a phrase from Jean, blank blank Victorians, people believed that one could know a man's character from the shape of his face. Not so different, perhaps, from those who want to judge us by the map of our genes. Today we know that a face tells us very little, and yet – forgive me for this, Logan – scars can tell us a good deal."

Logan's mouth twitches. "Maybe that's why I'm so mysterious."

"Huh," Storm coughs out. Logan looks at her and she says, "Must have been something caught in my throat."

They're all quiet for a moment, and then Logan says, "The thing about a scar is, you don't know what it's going to look like right away. Whether it's going to take."

"Yes," says the Professor. "The thought I had today, listening to Scott speak, is that none of us will be the same. But we can't see, yet, how these things will change us. We may tell ourselves that life happens one day at a time. That the only thing which matters –" He gives a pointed look to Storm. " – is keeping the plane in the air."

The god-damned plane, Storm thinks, and decides that the Professor is simply too polite to say it.

"Yet days will pile on days," the Professor continues. "And such an approach carries its own dangers."

"Yeah," Logan grunts. "Like waking up fifteen years from now with no idea what happened to all those days. Poor bastard." He chugs his drink, then adds, "Don't tell him I said that."

"So, you think that's what Scott was trying to tell us?" Storm asks. "That it's not just about today but –"Now she's thinking 'tomorrow and tomorrow and tomorrow.' But that's Shakespeare, not Tennyson, and she's not sure she wants to get the Professor started on another analogy.

"Perhaps only unconsciously," Xavier agrees.

"Huh," says Logan, with the air of a man who doesn't want to believe in the unconscious mind, and is vaguely annoyed by all the experiences that tell him differently. "Well, if that's what Scott was trying to say, it isn't exactly comforting."

"No," says Xavier. "No, it's not. And I'm not at all sure that he wanted it to be."

END