Response to Poetry Challenge 17
Rating: PG-13 for a bit of language.
Disclaimer: I do not own Illyria nor do I own the X-men. They belong to Joss Whedon and Marvel Comics respectively. Also I do not own the poem quoted which is by Mary Sue Pacho and entitled I Did Not Die.
A/N: Post Angel season 5 and Post X2.
Illyria watched as the two men finished placing flowers at a fairly fresh grave, not much older then a week, and the new grass was still very young. “Are you sure you wish to do this? I know not if the reaction will be satisfactory.” This was spoken to the red haired mutant who bore a few shiny scars on her face.
“I’m sure. It’s the only way I can think of to make them stop searching.” Jean laughed dryly, “They think I am dead and long gone because they cannot locate my body at Alkali Lake.”
“Are all humans so emotional and disgusting in their shows of weakness?” The blue tinged woman inquired, tilting her head at the grave, contemplating the two men.
“Not all humans, but yes, many are emotional and easily show their emotions.” Jean responded, fingering the bit of paper she held in her hand nervously.
“The look upon your face is quite interesting. What is it you are thinking of?” Illyria examined her companion’s face quietly, “I can sense you have a request to make.”
Jean sighed tiredly, “I just want to know that Scott and Logan will truly stop searching. I can’t think of any possible way to tell them that without alerting them that I am still alive.” Turning to face the blue haired demon, Jean touched her hand gently, “Will you please take the letter to Xavier; make sure that he keeps the true contents quiet. I will leave my message to Logan and Scott here.”
“I will, since it will make you happy, yet another disgusting emotion.” Illyria paused, “I remember how this shell was when she knew she was moving on to a new place, which I was to inhabit it, take over her memory banks and add my own experiences.”
“Thank you ‘Lyria. I will send for you when I have found a safe place for the two of us to work and prepare for the next big battle.” Jean brushed a kiss against her companions face as she pulled away she half smiled at the change, “I expect you to call me at least once a week Winifred.”
“Don’t worry about it,” Fred drawled softly, “This can’t be any harder then researching apocalypses and different demons that ‘Delia’s visions revealed.” The slender brunette smiled, “I better be going if I’m to join them at their place.”
Jean watched the former Texan dart through the shadows as she approached the two men they had been analyzing. They both knew that Logan and Scott would be trusting, understanding that if the Professor needed some strange quiet girl then so be it. They wouldn’t question Xavier’s decision.
When the three had left the graveyard finally, Jean slipped out of the wooded area and approached the head stone, pulling off the engagement ring Scott had given to her not even a year ago. Pressing it to her cheek she unfolded the piece of paper and weighted it down. “Please stop mourning for those who aren’t dead Scott, I loved you and I still do. But our time together is over for now. Maybe another day we’ll meet and walk together.” Jean murmured as she moved towards where she had left her car parked and drove away into the gathering night.
Logan was suspicious of this girl who had obviously been watching them for longer then she said she had been. That and she had the faintest scent of something familiar and yet alien. “Why do you want to go see Professor Xavier anyway? You don’t smell like a mutant.”
Fred tried to look as innocent as she could, “I found someone who knows him, and she said that she was too tired to travel and that it would be best if I were her message carrier.” She stated in a rush, semi-babble if you prefer, a hint of nervousness she hadn’t experienced before but knew well enough was expected when dealing with wild creatures.
“Logan, I forgot my phone. I’ll go back and get it. Storm’s waiting at the jet, why not take our guest there and let Charles know we’ve got a visitor coming in.” Scott stated calmly, “and leave the interrogation for the Professor, he will know what to do if she’s not as trustworthy as you think she is.”
Logan growled out something which could have been interpreted as agreement before he turned to Fred again and growled out his demand, “I could smell you in the trees, what were you doing there and who are you working with?”
“I was waiting to see what you were doing. I work with no one.” Fred uttered gravely, her tone cold and emotionless as any you could get from a robot.
“You’re not Mystique that much I can tell. So who are you really?” Logan growled again, not liking the evasive answers.
“Who I am is none of your concern. The Professor knows I am coming and that is all that is mattering right now.” Fred replied emotionlessly.
“Could you maybe talk normal English like other people?” Logan commented in frustration, “or are you just some freak who escaped from the Psych Ward.”
Scott came running back from the grave site with his phone and two other objects in his hand. “Oh God Logan… I don’t know what to make of this.” Scott handed over the piece of paper he had found pinned by an engagement ring.
“What the Hell is this Cyclops, a really ill timed joke?” Logan muttered in shock after reading the proffered paper.
“I don’t know Logan, that’s why I asked you.” Scott rubbed his hands through his hair, “Let’s just get back to the school. I just think this entire situation is crazy and creepy.”
The group of three hurried off towards the waiting Blackbird, Scott and Logan both wondering who would have left something in Dr. Gray’s handwriting at her gravestone. Fred wondering if Jean would be okay alone while she straightened out the two mourners and stopped the fruitless searching, Fred knew that her girl was clever and able to think on her feet, but that didn’t stop the worries.
Do not stand at my grave and forever weep.
I am not there; I do not sleep.
I am a thousand winds that blow.
I am the diamond glints on snow.
I am the sunlight on ripened grain.
I am the gentle autumn’s rain.
When you awaken in the morning’s hush
I am the swift uplifting rush
Of quiet birds in circled flight.
I am the soft stars that shine at night.
Do not stand at my grave and forever cry.
I am not there. I did not die.