Subject: [OTL]: Leaving (Wisdom, Rahne) 1/1
Date: Sun, 31 Dec 2000 15:21:22 -0800
From: JumpTB@aol.com

Title: Leaving

Author: Omega

Summary: This is another fic about Pete and Moira, regarding her death. In my
own delusional world, Wisdom is still alive. Moira is still dead, however.
Feedback welcome, archiving ok if I have a map to find my fic again.

    I turned the envelope over in my hands, looking at the American postage
stamps and the slightly bizarre handwriting, scribbled by a three-fingered
hand. It can't be any good if Kurt is the one sending the news, I thought
glumly. No news was good news, and I hadn't heard anything from Kurt in close
to a year; now, all of the sudden, there was a letter in the post.
    Pouring a double of Daniels and wrenching at my tie, loosening the knot,
I sank heavily onto the battered sofa and propped my mirror-polished black
shoes onto the cluttered coffee table. To open, or not to open? I wondered,
holding the envelope up to the light. It looked as though all it contained
was a folded sheet of white paper. Sighing, I ripped the top off and pulled
out the letter.
    Oh bloody hell, I thought after reading the first few words. I should
have known better; I should have known it was only a matter of time before
this came. I had to brace myself by finishing my whiskey first and then
attempting to read the letter.
    Get a grip, you bastard, I thought, disgusted at the way my hands shook,
holding the letter. You're acting like you've never had a friend die before.
You're acting like death is some evil, monstrous thing never to be mentioned.
Death is your friend, remember? She's your constant companion, the gentle
lover who waits at the end of the road. Angrily, I kicked at the coffee
table, stubbing my toes painfully.
    Letting the letter fall to the table, I poured another drink and
immediately wondered about Rahne. Poor girl... she must be devastated.
Rahne... I should be there for her. No, she doesn't need me. She's got a
baker's dozen worth of better people there. Kurt, for instance. Or even the
Tin Man. Besides - I checked the date on my watch - the funeral was two days
ago, in Scotland. Must be a clan chieftan thing. Maybe I should write a
letter.
    Kicking off my shoes, pulling off my jacket, and rolling up my sleeves,
I searched for something to write a letter on. I didn't have any stationary,
though... I'm not sure I've ever owned stationary. And I was out of computer
paper. All I had was a stack of sticky notes and a yellow legal pad. One
could hardly write a condolence letter on either. I could telephone... no,
bad time. Besides, I didn't want to get stuck on the line with Rahne sobbing
on the other end.
    There was nothing I could do for her, I reflected, hands on hips, peering
around at the bedroom of my flat. A sheet of paper on my nightstand caught my
eye. A flight schedule for planes departing from London and going to NYC. I
had printed it out for a mate two weeks ago but had never given it to him. I
guiltily considered it from across the room, and then grudgingly walked over
and made a phone call.

It was Rasputin who met me at the door. For a moment we eyed each other, and
then we both broke into weak smiles and I clasped his hand in a shake. There
wasn't a single word exchanged, and as I followed him into the Mansion I
could feel an almost palpable sense of grief in the air.
    "Pete," Kurt said, sounding surprised as he walked out of the kitchen. He
was in a pair of old jeans and a T-shirt that was rumpled just like his blue
hair. "You got my letter, then."
    I nodded, setting my carryon by the sweeping staircase. "Got on a flight
within three hours of reading it. I, um," I cleared my throat, feeling a bit
out of place, "I was worried about Rahne."
    Kurt's tail twitched as he sighed heavily. "She's not too bad. She's
better here than she would be somewhere else."
    "What else has been happening? This place feels like a morgue, and it's
not just Moira," I commented.
    "Cecelia Reyes is going through withdrawal, and it hasn't been easy on
any of us. And then there's the whole controversy over Mystique..." Peter
explained, making a helpless gesture. "I don't know what happened on the
Blackbird, but you can feel that everyone wants their part of the revenge.
Remy tried to get at her with a knife while she was in the hospital. Ororo
stopped him."
    I knew that the place must be filled with people, some of whom I wanted
to see and some of whom I would never want to see again. But, strangely, the
place was quiet and the Amazing Lightning Rod and Kurt were the only two
people I'd seen. "Is...?"
    Peter made a grumbling noise and excused himself, murmuring something
about telling Rahne I was here. Kurt tried to hide the pained look that
flashed momentarily across his face, and said, "Kitty's not here."
    "Oh." I would have expected her to be right by Rahne through everything.
"Where is she?"
    Kurt turned and started walking, motioning for me to follow. "She's just
not here right now, that's all. We've got a spare bedroom upstairs. I'll take
you up."
    I grabbed my bag and looked around, ogling at the place as I was lead
down spotless hallways filled with exquisite and sophisticated rarities. I
thought of my modest flat; the most sophisticated thing in it was an abstract
aluminium statue some crazy bird had given to me. It looked like a pile of
silver dog shit.
    "Any idea as to how long you'll stay?"
    "Not long. I only came to see Rahne, make sure she's all right, pat her
back and say some mumbo-jumbo, and then I'm out of here. It's like being in a 
museum, here." The feeling that I shouldn't touch anything without washing my 
hands only grew when I saw the bedroom. A four-poster with crisp cream sheets 
stood opposite of an antique wardrobe, and the bedside table had a black
marble statue on it. Ornate African masks adorned the walls.
    "There are clothes-hangers in the wardrobe. No doubt you have a few more
suits to hang up," Kurt said with a small smile.
    "I've graduated to navy," I said. "Did you notice? It's very liberating."
I stepped into the room and set my bag on the bed, unzipping it. "Thanks,
Kurt. If you see Rahne, will you send her up?"
    "Of course. And Logan is cooking chili tonight, so I suggest taking some
Pepto Bismol before coming down for dinner."
    "Thanks for the warning," I called after him.
    I was hanging up my other suit when I heard rubber whispering against the
floor. I didn't turn around, but greeted the man cordially anyway. "Professor
Xavier. How are you?"
    "Don't feel the need to put your manners on, Wisdom. They don't seem to
fit well anyway." The words might have been harsh, but his voice was
friendly, if exhausted. "Rahne will be glad to see you."
    I refrained from snorting. "Yeah, she might be, but what about everyone
else? I haven't exactly been voted Mr. Congeniality lately."
    "They don't dredge up the past. Why do you?"
    I didn't answer. Instead, I asked, "Where is Kitty? Kurt and the Tin Can
Man were acting like she was dead too."
    "Kurt and Peter have both been under a lot of stress lately." He wheeled
in and then steepled his fingers under his chin as I met his gaze for the
first time. "We don't know where Kitty is. She had met a man named Seth. She
and several others were on NASA's Starcore station, and Seth turned out to be
one of the Neo, who had planted bombs with the intent of killing all of the
X-Men present. The hull ruptured, but she phased everyone on board out, and
phased a loose girder through the ship. She stayed behind..." He trailed
off as he watched my reaction.
    Keeping my face an unreadable mask, I nodded slowly. "I'm sorry that
things have been so rough around here. Really." I tried to keep my mind as
blank as my face so that Xavier wouldn't pick up on the black hole that only
a moment ago had been my stomach.
    "P-Pete?"
    My gaze shifted from the Professor to the beautiful girl who had appeared
in my doorway. "Rahne," I said involuntarily with a rush of relief, moving
past Xavier to her. If I had stopped to think, it would have been awkward,
but just then it felt natural to envelope her into my arms, smoothing her
short, fiery hair with one hand. "You're not a girl anymore," I said finally,
holding her at arm's length. "You're a gorgeous woman all of the sudden."
    "All of the sudden? It's been much longer than 'all of the sudden,'" she
said, looking at me with sad eyes.
    "You're right. Rahne, luv, I'm so sorry..." I didn't know how to tell
her I was sorry about her mother's death and for my actions - my actions, not
my decisions - years ago, so I left it open for her interpretation.
    She rewarded me with a wavering smile. "I know. Mummy knows. Pete...
it's okay. You've got to believe me."
    It was the same story Xavier had fed me - "everyone forgives you, it's
okay." I nodded in reply, suddenly feeling a bit relieved. I'd come expecting
harsh words, dirty looks, and lots of angst, but instead I got a warm
welcome, forgiveness, and smiles. "I'm surprised you decided not to stay in
Scotland."
    "The lady Moira isn't in Scotland... just her body. And Professor
Xavier has been working with others on the cure she found - that's her. Her
work and her friends. I'm where all of that is." She wiped the back of her
hand across her eyes, looking slightly embarrassed. "The only thing that
really gets me angry..."
    When she trailed off, I ventured out, "Mystique?"
    She nodded, her hands unconsciously turning into fists. From the corner
of my eye, I could see that even Xavier's expression had hardened a bit. "But
she's worthless," Rahne spat, not transforming at all but looking more feral
all the same. "Her justice will come."
    "I'd forgotten how much you're like her," I said to the girl, thinking of
Moira.
    "Don't tell me... she'd be proud of me. I know. Everyone's said that."
    "It's the truth," I offered.
    "The truth is that Mum died," she said spitefully, and I cocked an
eyebrow. I'd been waiting for this. "She left me. She was stronger than that.
She could've hung on until we landed!" This time, when her eyes glimmered,
they were tears of rage.
    I remained silent, understanding her rage. For me, anger set in before
grief, but she had worked through some of her grief and now fury was sliding
in.
    "Rahne, why don't you have a seat?" Xavier began in a soothing voice.
    "Shut up!" Rahne screamed, making both Xavier and I wince. Her shoulders
were quivering under the stress of trying not to fall apart.
    Xavier thought briefly and then wheeled out past Rahne, giving me a look
of warning. I wondered if he blamed me for the way she was losing control.
    Cautiously I took Rahne's elbow and guided her over to my bed, perching
her on the edge of it. Barely audible sobs broke the silence.
    "Moira wouldn't have left you if she had a choice," I said carefully, for
once thinking before I talked. "Rahne, listen to me for a minute, all right?
I'm not worth listening to on a regular basis, but try this once?" She
nodded, meeting my eyes, and I continued. "This isn't her fault. It isn't
yours either, or even Mystique's. You know that. You've seen enough of the
big, bad world to see that it's hell at times. This just happens to be one
of those times. Don't try to work through it like you would someone else's
death. Don't try to do anything. Just live day by day. Go talk to Jane." I
chewed my lip, wondering if that was good advice. I hadn't seen Jane, and
didn't know if she were suicidal and on enough Prozac to dope a rhinoceros,
but I was hoping she'd be sane enough to help Rahne.
    "Sometimes, if you try too hard, you make things worse." Uh-oh. Now I
was speaking from experience, which was always a scary thing. "Take things 
as they come. That's the only advice I can give you. I'm not a sodding
head-doctor, or some empath or anything else. There are people like that,
though, and you know them. Use your resources. Hell, you've even got a
terrible chain-smoking acquaintance if you need him," I added with a
self-deprecating smile. "So long as you call me and you're paying the
long-distance phone charges."
    She was staring down at her lap, where her hands lie motionless. I looked
at her for a long minute, then moved over to the wardrobe and started
systematically packing again. When everything was tucked back into the bag,
I turned to see her watching me. "I only came for you," I said, explaining.
"I've said my piece. Good-bye, Rahne."
    As I was walking out of the room she said, "Pete... it's okay." She
didn't smile, but her mother had just died. She didn't need to smile just to
make me feel better.
    I was grateful that I didn't see anyone as I used a hallway phone to call
for a taxi. I waited at the wrought-iron gates, and then left. On the way to
the airport I thought about the last time I'd left. No regrets on my part,
and now I knew there were none for them, either. When I was offered coffee on
the flight home, though, I had to turn it down.

Escribir es alegria.