It was a cold, grey day. How fitting...

They came off the jet, weary, bloodied and bruised. And I ran towards them, looking. Searching for your face... But you weren't there.

They told me you were dead.

Poor Storm... She looked into my eyes and tried to tell me. Tried to tell me that you were still inside when the building exploded. That no one, not even you, could've survived a blast like that. But I couldn't hear her words. Not over the sound of someone screaming in my ears... Over and over again, 'no'. No. No...

You couldn't be dead. Not you... You'd promised me you'd come back. You'd hugged me before you left, laughing and telling me that, since you'd already survived touching me twice, you could survive anything. Anything...

And I'd believed you.

I'd stood there, in the hangar, demanding to see your body. Jean wouldn't meet my eyes when she told me the building was demolished, up in flames, and they hadn't been able to look for one. God help me, if Scott hadn't jumped in front of me, Jean, I would've hit you. How dare you not bring him back to me. How dare you not bring back something for me to mourn...

So I didn't believe them.

You were still out there. Alive, somewhere, somehow. I knew it.

And I clung to that belief. I held it to me each day, when I had to drag myself out of bed. Force myself to eat. Stare vacantly while I sat in on whatever class I was suppose to be in at the time. I would've forgotten all about classes, if it hadn't been for Jubilee. She never spoke about it. Just put my books in my bag and gently herded me to where I belonged.

Belonged.... Such a strange word. I never belonged anywhere but with you...

I held on that first week, never wavering. Always looking out the window, waiting. Waiting for you to come back and prove them wrong. Waiting for you to come back to me and make me whole again...

But the week bled into the next, and then the third. And my fingers grew numb and I couldn't hold on so tightly anymore. It ended when Scott came to my room after dinner that one night. I sat at my desk, while he took a seat on the bed and stared at his hands. When he started to speak, I tried to drown him out. Tried not to listen. Listen as he told me how sorry he was... How he'd wished he'd been quicker, stronger, able to stop you from charging recklessly ahead of the others. How he wished he could've brought you back for a proper burial. How he wished he could take the pain away...

And the tears started then. They started and they wouldn't stop. They fell down my face, splattering on my gloves, on the desk. Like a river, they just kept coming... Scott hugged me then. Not like you held me. No one ever held me so naturally, so unafraid, as you did... But he held me while I cried. And then he put me to bed, and waited. Holding my hand until I fell asleep finally. Still crying...

The days were harder to face after that. The pain... It was so raw, so strong, I couldn't deny it anymore. You were gone and you were never coming back. I didn't know how to keep going. The others, they stepped so warily around me then. They didn't want to do the wrong thing, to say the wrong thing. They never said your name...

It was the Professor who suggested I spend time in the gardens. He knew I couldn't bear to be with anyone else. Couldn't bear to look around and see the smiles, hear the laughter. Not when it felt like I was dying inside. So he told me to go into the gardens. To spend time there, reading, or thinking, or gardening. Whatever I wanted. Whatever I needed to do. Mostly I just sat. Sat and stared at the growing things. Even in the cold chill of early winter, leaves still clung to so many branches. And I hated them. I hated those plants. For their life. For their tenacity... I hated them just for being alive. For not being you...

So I just sat there. On the cold bench. And stared. Lost in my own pain...

Maybe that's why I didn't hear it at first. Maybe I didn't want to hear it... Motorcycles passed by the gates to the school all the time. After that first week, I'd given up on hoping, each time I heard one, that it was you. Coming back to me...

But this time the engine didn't drone off into the distance. It got closer and closer to the mansion. When the roar suddenly cut off, I could hear my own heart thudding in my ears. And I could feel the pain surging up inside again. And I hated myself for hoping. So I drowned it all out. Wrapped my pain around me and let the world fall away again. It couldn't be you. You were gone. You were dead. They'd said so.

"Marie." God, I must be going insane, because now I can hear your voice. Can hear the soft sound of my own name from your lips. This isn't real. This can't be real. I can't hope again... So I close my eyes tighter and I can feel my shoulders starting to shake. Can feel the tears starting again, tracing old familiar paths down my cheeks...

Then someone is kneeling in front of me. Someone is taking my hands and holding them tightly.

"Marie... open your eyes..."

So I do. And you're there. You're there, kneeling in front of me. Your face so worn and tired. Barely faded scars crisscrossing it... Your eyes so gentle as they look up at me... And the tears come harder, and the shaking gets worse as I realize you're there. You're really there and you're alive. Not dead. Not dead...

And then you're holding me tightly, whispering urgent words into my ear. About how sorry you are to have hurt me. How it'd taken you this long to heal enough to come back. But it doesn't matter. None of it matters. All that matters is that you're alive. The arms that hold me are warm, strong and alive. You're alive. And you've come back to me... Nothing else matters, because we're together. And I am whole again.