Pulling the van to a halt in front of the mansion Hank glanced uneasily at Piotr who shrugged. Things were silent, too silent.
“What do you think?”
“Perhaps they’ve been here and gone.”
“Maybe.”
Shutting the doors of the vehicle the two men walked uneasily up the stairs and into the cool, silent foyer of the mansion. Nothing seemed out of place, there were no obvious signs of a raid or an attack.
Hank nodded down the hallway toward Charles’ office and started for the soft, muted sound coming from that direction. Opening the door to the office unannounced he stared.
Sitting in the middle of the floor was Charles, soaked with blood, his usual crisp attire wrinkled and askew.
“What happened?” Hank demanded looking at Jean who lay with her head in Charles’ lap.
“They killed her.” Charles whispered sadly as he glanced at the two men. “Last night while you were away! You should have been here, you should have…”
“No we shouldn’t. You knew the risks Charles and you chose to ignore them. Logan told you not to give her power, not to let her back into the world.”
“Then you’re just as much a traitor as Scott.” Charles glared at him. “We needed her, she was…”
“Your favorite.” Piotr replied stiffly. “That may be but you forgot something or rather someone. You forgot the girls who spent how many months being tortured because she wanted Logan in bed. Do you think that Logan and Scott don’t have a right to their grief, their anger?”
“They killed her. The girls are alive, they will wake tomorrow morning and Jean won’t. Jean won’t be there…”
Hank sighed as he moved further into the room. “The girls are dead Charles.”
Charles glared at him. “No they are not! They’re somewhere north…”
“No. The girls we knew, that group of young women is dead. They died because of Jean’s lust. The women that you speak of are merely the bodies. Inside, in the deepest part of their hearts those three women are not anything like those girls. Jean had a hand in that and so did you. You abused the system, abused your power just as Jean did. You chose to ignore the signs, chose to pretend that there was nothing wrong and now we’ve all had to pay.”
“What are you babbling about Hank?” Charles snapped laying Jean’s head on the floor gently and dragging himself to his chair. He would not stand for being spoken down to like some recaliant child; he was after all a powerful man.
“You made very few attempts to find the girls when they first disappeared. You let Jean make that choice and you left them to be tortured, to be raped, and mutilated without a moment’s guilt. Then you did the same thing with Storm. You left her in that place to be abused, to be tormented and filled with mind numbing drugs. You’re just as bad as Jean was!”
“How dare you!”
“I dare plenty!” Hank roared. “I see it in Ororo’s eyes on a daily basis. I hear it in the long, drawn out showers that barely muffle the sound of sobs. I’ve seen the results of being a beautiful woman in one of those places. I blame you for that!”
“Hank we should do something with her.” Piotr pointed out staring at the dead woman at his feet. “Storm’ll be back later with the children and they don’t need…”
“Of course. We’ll lay her to rest beneath the alder tree. Roll her in the rug. I’ll bury her if you will be so kind as to clean up the blood stain from the hard wood. I have a chemical solution for cleaning up the med-lab after a particularly bloody battle.”
“I’ll grab it.” Piotr grabbed the rug and began rolling. With Jean rolled up tight he glanced at Charles who glared at both of them with open disdain and anger. “What about him?”
“Let him be.” Hank drawled as he hefted Jean into his arms. “He has nothing left. Just a broken old man surrounded by empty possessions.”
Charles watched the two big men leave his office. His eyes slid to the floor and remained on the dark stain upon his floor. His team had abandoned him, they’d turned away from his dream.
Rolling to behind his desk he turned to stare out the window. Jean was dead, the X-Men were falling apart, and he was alone. His world had crumbled and all because he’d allowed his favorite to follow the dictates of her own mind and heart.
Granted he’d always known her mind had a darkness within it, a shadow the even he couldn’t control but he’d hoped and prayed that she’d have the strength he did not have.
Now he would have to face the truth. A truth he did not want to deal with. A truth that was more painful than anything he’d dealt with before. Jean’s hands may have been bloodied with innocent blood but he hadn’t escaped unscathed or clean. His soul was just as tarnished as hers; his hands had just as much blood on them.
Charles watched without seeing as Hank made short work of burying Jean beneath the old tree. To hide the freshly dug grave he watched the tall man place several large bloom filled pots atop the fresh soil.
~ “I told you old man…I would destroy your soul. You have to admit I’m much better than you at keeping my word. But then I’ve always lived by an honorable code something you forgot along the way!”~
Charles flinched at the soft echo in his mind and closed his eyes. Uncaring of the tears streaking down his face he sat in the growing light of day and sobbed, trying desperately to regain what he’d thrown away.
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