The Quiet Before the Storm: Epilogue

Disclaimer: The X-Men belong to Marvel, the Coda to Wildstorm, and the story to me.

New York City. 

The offices of Frost Enterprises, atop the Chase Manhattan building.

It was dawn. 

A new day. A fresh start.

Ororo Munroe entered the reception area attired in white leather, her 
hair cut into a daring style once again, heads turning at her striking
appearance, her face composed, though inside, she was a maelstrom
of emotions.

But now she's free. Free to be anything she likes...

The receptionist guided her to an conference room, where two women,
one she'd once called a friend, and another she'd called an enemy,
waited for her.

"How are Bishop and Remy?" she asked nervously.

The White Queen looked up at her, "Recovering...."

And the Black Queen answered the second part of her question, "The trauma was
more psychological than physical. How do *you* feel, Ororo?"

The former leader of the X-Force sat down, placing her purse on the table,
"Guilty, ashamed. About the way I treated you and the others. You were trying
to help me... And I am angry, to think that it was so easy to control me for 
all these years. I know I was young, but there should have been something 
inside me that could have fought harder, Liz."

Emma looked at her serenely, "Don't punish yourself, Ororo. Such Aspects exist
in everyone, with the reins of reason and rationality removed, who can say how
any of us would react if confronted with the idea that everything we thought
was true, everything we believed in was a sham... a cruel lie?"

"Your will is stronger than you think Ororo," Liz told her, "After helping 
free you from the effects of the brainwashing and the blocks, we withdrew
the psychic links, and when you spared Xavier's life, we knew you were in
control of your own faculties, shaky, but in control. I don't know what I
would have done, had it been otherwise, but the thought of someone I call
a friend enduring what you've endured...I...."

Ororo moved around the table to her old friend, "Blessed Lady, Liz...."

No more words. 

None are needed. Each woman has endured mind-bending experiences, just tears
on one another's shoulders, and a weight lifting from the heart of the storm.

Elsewhere....

And in the shadows of Central Park, a couple meet, exchanging a passionate embrace.

A man's voice. A rich, velvety tenor. Almost a baritone.

"She's merely a means t' an end, claire d'lune. One that require a little bit
o' charades on my account." he said between kissing the light of his love, 
"My darling Candra, shoorly you know I *always* put th' business b'fore pleasure...
except where, *you* concerned, mon cherie."

The woman's sigh indicated that she was appeased with this answer, "I'm glad
to hear it. I'd hate to have to remove that pretty face of yours... And if our
plans go accordingly, I will be the sole Majestrix of the Coda...just in time to
enjoy Mardi Gras..."