Old Friends
By Tarot

Note:  All Characters belong to Marvel Comics Group.  I'm not making any money
off this, etc.  Please ask before archiving or circulating this story.  I love
getting feedback so send some to Tarot666@aol.com

Old Friends

        Harry's Bar, a small tavern in Salem Center.  It's a quiet bar, nothing 
much ever happens there.  It's a peaceful place for five old friends to sit around
and talk.  Harry had known these people for years, laughed and talked to them.
He knew more about them than they probably realized.  That's why tonight, of
all nights, he left them alone in the dark booth at the back of the bar.  Nancy,
a new waitress, came back from the table, and ordered five beers and a glass of
chardonnay.
        'So Ororo's drinking tonight', he thought as he took out the bottle and 
poured her a glass.  He placed five Budwiesers down on the tray next to the
chardonnay.  "Tell Logan this round's on me."  Nancy looked at him -- she had
only been working at the bar for a few weeks, but in this town it was well
known that Harry never bought anyone a round.  Harry started cleaning glasses
and, with Nancy still staring at him, said, "Close your mouth, girl, and get back
to work".  Startled, she quickly turned and walked back over to the table.
        The booth was dark, for some reason, Harry had the lights turned down so 
low that the booth was cast in deep shadows.  She walked up to the table.  They 
sat in silence. 'Why five beers?' she wondered. 'The black chick's drinking wine
and there's only four other people sitting there.'  She placed the wine down in
front of the "black chick", although most people would have been afraid to use
those words.  She sat there looking like some kind of African princess, 'More like 
a goddess,' Nancy thought.  Next to her was a short, unshaven man who smoked one
of the most hideous-smelling cigars in the world.  On his other side sat a very
good-looking young man, a body builder or something.  As Nancy set the bottle
in front of him, he looked up with sad eyes, eyes that had seen too much for
someone of his age.  Across from him, sitting in the darkest shadows was a
small man, who was covered from head to toe.  He was hard to make out -- in fact,
if he had not thanked her (or at least that's what she assumed Danke meant) she
might have missed him.  And beside him sat an Irish man.  She was looking at
his red hair, when he winked at her.  He pulled out his wallet, and grabbed
some money.
        "Uh, Harry told me to tell you that this round's on him, Mr. Logan."
        "Ye got it wrong lass, the midget over there's Logan.  Me name's Sean.  
Tell Harry thanks."  And with that he threw a couple of dollars on the tray.
        "Thanks."  And with that Nancy turned around and walked back over to Harry,
placing her tip into her apron pocket.  "Hey Harry, who are those weirdos?"
        Harry turned around and glared at her.  Just as famous as Harry's drink 
buying record so was his inability to get upset.  "Don't ever call them weirdos,
Nancy."  Nancy jumped back.
        "Sorry Harry, I didn't mean anything.  I've just never seen a group like 
that before."
        "They're old friends, Nancy.  And no, you've never seen anyone like them 
before... or ever again"

        They had been sitting in the bar for hours now. They talked about good 
times mostly, trying to keep their spirits up, but tonight it was harder to do than
on any other night.
        "So Sean, how's Jubilee?"  Logan asked, taking another puff.
        "The lassie's a handful.  Aye, and ye know that if she dinnea stop talking
about her time with the X-Men, the others 're gonna kill her."
        Storm smiled. "You have my respect, Sean. I am not sure that any of the 
rest of us would be able to handle her, much less the rest of your charges."
        "Da, although it must be very calming, my friend," Peter piped up from 
behind his beer -- he had been drinking quite a bit more than usual tonight.
        Sean laughed. "Aye, my friend, about as calming as Onslaught."  It was 
meant  to be a joke, of course, but one in bad taste, Sean realized as it came out 
of his mouth.  Thanks to the entity known as Onslaught, the dream they all fought
for was in peril.  They had all lost a mentor and -- to some -- a father figure.
They had lost friends, and comrades.
        It was Storm who broke the silence. "So, Kurt, how is Kitty?"
        "She's still upset over breaking up with Wisdom."  At that Sean and Logan
turned and looked at Peter.  He hung his head trying not to show how much that
hurt.  Logan kicked Kurt under the table.
        "Uh, she was also upset about not being invited to our little get-together
tonight.  I tried to explain it, but..."
        "Yes, it is difficult to explain.  But just as the original X-Men need 
to get together from time to time, to reaffirm their friendship, so do we, the
'second generation' of X-Men need to get together.  We have all been through so
much, together and alone, that we need to touch base."
        Logan released a puff of cigar smoke.  "Come 'Ro, it's more than that, 
every year we all meet on this same night."
        "Except for that time your three were dead," Kurt said, looking at Ororo, 
Logan and Peter.
        "Yeah, except that time.  But you and Irish got together, didn't you?" 
Logan replied.
        "Aye, although we had more to think about then."  And with that they all
looked at the empty place and the warm beer that had been there all night.  "I
could have saved him," Sean said.
        Ororo reached across the table and placed a hand on his.  Kurt put his hand 
on Sean's shoulder. "Sean don't, it wasn't your fault".
        "We all should have stopped him, but the kid was too headstrong,"  Logan 
said. Peter spoke up, "He died like a hero, none of could have stopped him, and
any one of us would do the same thing.  We all have, we've just been lucky.  He
was a hero."
        "Yes he was, we should all aspire to be like him.  He was the first of us 
to die in the line of duty, fighting to save the lives of those who, excuse my
plagiarism, hated and feared him.  So let us raise a glass to an old friend,
one who is gone, but I swear will never be forgotten as long as we all live.
To John Proudstar, our Thunderbird!"
        They all raised a glass, and said "To John Proudstar!"

        Nancy was standing at the bar talking to her friend Marsha, when they heard
the toast from the back booth.  Marsha turned to Nancy and asked her, "Who are
the weirdos?"
        Nancy had been serving that table all night, had caught bits and pieces of
their conversation, she heard them laugh, and had seen tears swell up in their
eyes.  She turned back to Marsha and said, "Don't call them weirdos, Marsha."
Marsha looked at her about to say something, when she noticed that Nancy was
looking at the table, smiling.  "Believe me, Marsha, they aren't any different
that you or I."