xp_logs | Sunday morning: Kitty and Jamie attend a funeral

x-crowdofone.livejournal.com posting in

Skippy's funeral, in fact. They cry. You may too, so go get some Kleenex.

The Xavier estate was very large--large enough that Jamie sometimes wondered if it had its own zip code--and, while it was crisscrossed with hiking and riding trails, there were still a number of places almost inaccessible enough to be called wilderness. One of these was a largish stand of trees overlooking the lake, thick with underbrush and low, prickly branches. There was a very small clearing in the middle of it, where a few of the trees had happened to grow away from one another, leaving a space barely large enough to fit two people; the water twinkled from between the trunks, just barely in view, and in the summer air it smelled green and alive.

Jamie ducked under an overhanging branch and into the clearing, one hand in Kitty's, the other holding a small, sealed plastic jar half full of reddish slime.

"I don't think anybody ever comes here," he said quietly. "But it's a nice place, I think."

Kitty looked around and sighed softly, letting the peace of the place fill her. "It is," she said. "So... quiet."

"Yeah. That was why I thought of it. Someplace quiet to rest."

He'd dug the hole earlier, just a few feet deep, enough that animals would have a hard time getting at it; kneeling, he set the jar carefully on the bottom, and with his bare hands pushed the piled dirt back in.

Then he took the memorial stone out of his pocket--just a small, flattish piece of rock from the quarry, which he'd painted with the name "Skippy Madrox," the date of the hurricane, the date he'd died, and the message "May you find rest." He placed the stone on the little mound, then stood, wiped his hands on his jeans, and reached for Kitty's hand again.

"I think . . . I should say something, but . . . I don't really know what."

Kitty hesitated, not sure if it would be right... But it seemed to fit. Pausing occasionally, because it had been several years since she had first learned it, she said softly, "Tender as a parent with a child, the Lord is merciful. God knows how we are fashioned, remembers that we are dust. our days are as grass; we flourish as a flower in the field. The wind passes over it and it is gone, and no one can recognize where it grew. But the Lord's compassion for us, the Lord's righteousness to children's children, remain, age after age, unchanging."

Jamie smiled tearfully. "That's beautiful."

Kitty wrapped an arm around his waist, silent as she gazed down at the little stone.

Jamie looked down at the stone too, and took a deep breath.

"I'm sorry," he said quietly. "I'm sorry we didn't find you. I wish we had. I'm sorry I wasn't there when you were hurting, that I didn't think to wonder if you existed, that we didn't send the X-Men to save you, because we would have, if we'd known, we would have moved heaven and earth. I'm sorry they hurt you so much. Nobody should have to bear that." He swallowed hard, wiping his eyes. "I'm sorry I killed you. I don't know if anybody could have helped you, but I wish I'd tried. I hope . . . I hope if there's anything left of you, that you're somewhere where you don't hurt anymore, somewhere you can rest. I hope you can rest here, because it's nice here, and it's where you wanted to get back to. I wish I could give you more." He sniffed loudly, tears rolling down his cheeks, and tightened his arm around Kitty.

Kitty leaned her head against Jamie's chest, as much a gesture of support for him as for herself. She lifted a hand to brush away the tears forming in her own eyes.

Jamie stood there for a while, just holding her and crying, but finally he wiped his eyes. "I think I feel a little better now. How about you? You . . . haven't really had a lot to say about . . . all this."

Kitty nodded slightly. "I'm... glad you're better, even a little," she said, not really answering the question.

Jamie tilted her chin up, gently, so he could look her in the eye. "I'd feel even better if I knew you weren't bottling stuff up so you could help me. Remember right after the love potion, how hard that was?" He kissed her softly, tasting salt. "Don't be strong for me, just be with me. We hold each other up."

"Oh..." she sighed softly. "It's not that... not really. I just..." Her arms tightened around his waist as she leaned up to kiss him again. "He acted like... like he cared about me. Like he loved me. But... I didn't stop him. I couldn't. The only thing I could have used to help everyone, and... I couldn't."

"The way I remember it, he acted like you were a prize he'd win if he could just be me hard enough. And you're wrong, you know." He brushed his hand along her cheek. "After he'd absorbed me, I was sort of . . . floating, in nothing, and it was like I was drowning. And the only thing I could think of was, I had to get back to you. If you hadn't been there . . . I don't know if I could have made it back. So you did help everyone."

Reaching up, she caught his hand. "But... Oh Jamie, I just kept thinking that if only I could find the right words, or the right thing to do, then he'd... he'd let Artie and Miles go, or come talk to the professor, or something. But he scared me so much..." She was shaking slightly as she spoke. "And I couldn't. I just couldn't."

"It's okay, it's okay . . ." Jamie held her close, shivering himself. "He scared me too--I've never been that scared, that's why I sent people to the warehouse, why I went to fight him instead of talk to him. I was too scared to try and help him. I don't think words would've been enough anymore, not after he took the kids."

"I... I know that, I think. Dr. Samson keeps reminding me that... that he wasn't my responsibility, and I couldn't be expected, and..." she trailed off.

"But you expect it of yourself anyway?"

She nodded silently.

"That's the same way I feel--like I should have tried to help him, like I made all the wrong decisions that day and that's why he died . . . and everybody keeps saying, no, you did the best you could, you did a good job . . . and I keep thinking, wait, he's dead, and he used to be me, and how is that a good job? And people got hurt, and traumatized, and . . ." He sighed. "Nathan said . . . we don't get do-overs. And look, I'm still here . . . and you're still here, and the kids are going to be okay . . . maybe it could have been better, but it could have been worse too, really easily, and we can't really know what would have happened if we'd done things differently. It's . . . we can get better from this, if we stop fighting it all over again all the time. And maybe, another way, we couldn't have."

Kitty nodded again, sniffing. "Nathan's right. They're all right. But... Damn it," she suddenly said. "No more buts."

"Aww, but I like yours." Jamie smiled wryly. "Bad joke. You're right. We did what we did, and we didn't do what we didn't do . . . and tomorrow the sun comes up again?"

"Yes, exactly. Tomorrow and tomorrow and tomorrow, cause we can't do anything about yesterday."

"I can live with that. But we still have to deal with what happened yesterday, because it's how we got to today . . ." He cocked his head. "Bucket of ice cream up in the parlor, and we talk some more? Both of us talk, not just me talk and you listen? And whatever else happens . . . happens, unless it's the ice cream melting. There's still . . . it'll still be hard. But I think we'll be okay, in a while."

"I think that sounds really good," Kitty said. "I know we'll be ok. It may take us a while, but we'll get there."

"And we can have fun at the party, before you have to leave. That's why I wanted to do this now, so we could have a good day then."

"A wise plan," she said. "Come on." Tugging at his hand, Kitty glanced down at the stone again. "Good bye, Skippy," she whispered.

"I'll come back and visit," Jamie promised the stone. "You won't be alone anymore." He smiled sadly at Kitty, and ducked under the branch. "Fudge ripple or chocolate chip?"