Author's Chapter Notes:
My response to the October challenge posted on the board. Okay, I'm not that great with the whole ghost story... and I'm a sucker for happy endings. Feedback is always welcome.

Tissue Warning!
Jerked from a sound sleep Jean bolted upright in bed her eyes scanning the room fearfully. Blinking as she realized that she was alone in the room she glanced to her right and sighed, Scott slept on. Chilled, she slid from the sheets and pulled on her robe. Perhaps a cup of hot chocolate would ease her mind because she didn’t think anything else would help.

Walking down the hallway she paused as the faint tickling at the back of her mind skittered through her. Turning around she stared hard at the wall thirty feet away. It had been years since that part of the mansion had been destroyed, years since the rooms at that end of the dormitory had been devoured by fire during an attack by the army.

With a sad sigh she turned and hurried away from the reminder of destruction, of death. She didn’t want to remember that night, didn’t want to remember the stench of burning flesh, of heated metal, the screams that were animalistic and filled with agony as death came to call.

Slinking into the kitchen she moved on auto-pilot as she made the warm drink before sitting at the table. Turning her head she frowned as she caught the edge of a figure in the pale moonlight.

“Those kids don’t understand curfew.” She muttered under her breath and rose to go to the patio doors. Pressing in the code she heard the lock click open before stepping out into the cooler night air.

It was fall, and the temperature showed it as the frost glistened in the pale glow of the full moon. Wrapping her robe tighter around her she moved to the railing of the patio and froze. The figure she’d seen earlier was gone, disappeared like a puff of smoke.

Turning back toward her hot drink and the warmth of the mansion Jean froze as she heard the distinct sound of boots on the hard ground. Frantically she spun about, searching every shadow for the intruder even as she reached out with her mind.

Desperately she backed toward the doors, fear clutching at her as she glanced at the charred foundation that had remained even now, ten years after the fact. As she watched a familiar figure long since gone from the mansion seemed to stroll across the gravel and out onto the grass, a cigar clutched in his hands, his head lifted as though smelling the wind.

“Logan?” Jean called moving toward the figure only to gasp in shock when the figure didn’t even acknowledge her presence. “Logan wait. What are you doing here? You’re not supposed…” The words froze in her throat as he seemed to vanish like the smoke from his cigar.

“Jean? What are you doing out here?”

Jean whirled around to stare at her husband who stood eying her with a confused look upon his face. “Did you see him?”

“See who?”

“Logan. He was right there! I saw him he was smoking a cigar and walking across…”

“Jean, honey, Logan died a long time ago. You can’t have seen him.” Scott replied soothingly, moving to hold her gently. The death of several of their friends at the hands of those they’d tried to help had stayed with Jean, eaten away at her with guilt over the years and obviously still bothered her.

“No, I saw him, Scott. I saw Logan!”

“Come back inside.” Turning her away from the constant reminder he led her back inside and closed the door. Gently he ushered her over to the table, pressing the steaming mug into her hands and pointing her toward the kitchen door.

A gentle nudge and she moved out of the kitchen, her steps sluggish, her shoulders hunched against some unseen weight. Scott sighed sadly and turned to stare out the window at the night.

It seemed so senseless now, so foolish. It had taken death to show the living that sometimes loves was more powerful than fear. He shuddered as he recalled the horror of that night. The screams, the smell of smoke, the flames that licked at the foundations of his world as helicopters hovered above the school.

Confusion had reigned. Students and teachers alike had scrambled to protect themselves, to escape the unknown.

The sound of the alarm seemed dwarfed by the distinct sound of gunfire, by the roar of helicopters as Scott raced through the corridor. Catching sight of a black uniform he paused for a fraction of a second before blasting the semi-automatic weapon holder into a thousand pieces.

Driven by fear and rage he pushed his tired legs harder as he tore through the darkened corridors. Stumbling over the fallen he barely registered the pain of a bullet grazing his arm as he stared down into the still, pale face of one of the students. Feeling the rage building within him he looked up at the man firing at him and reached for his visor only to freeze as the man seemed to gasp before three glowing tips exited his chest.

“Thanks.” He grunted as Logan shoved the man away before hurrying away with a growl.

Scott hit the ground as a loud explosion rocked the foundation. Ducking he tried to hurry the students that were rushing toward him, “GO! Go! Hurry now. Don’t look back.” He ordered as he pushed them past him. Frantic calls from students and other team members seemed to fill his mind, echoing within each thundering beat of his heart.

“Logan we have to get the kids to safety. WOLVERINE!” Scott hollered at the other man as he tore back through the corridor rapidly filling with smoke.

“Scott! Come on, get everyone into the escape corridor!” Jean called waving a hand toward the opening in the wall. She barely flinched when Scott blew a hole through the man standing behind her with a hand gun pointed at her head.

Glancing over his shoulder the last Scott saw of Logan was him disappearing through the door into Rogue’s room. Maybe Logan was searching for kids who had been hurt or were trapped, he thought before the panel slid back into place and the sounds of battle continued.

The roar of thunder competed with the roar of guns; the screams of the attackers seemed louder than those of the victims. With a glance at Jean, Scott slipped back into the mansion through another panel. They had to defend, had to stop this attack no matter the cost.

Ducking a punch Scott came up with a hard, upward jab, smashing the man in the face and breaking bones. A kick in the midsection drove the man backwards and Scott whirled to blast another just as Hank came tearing through the corridor grabbing men and throwing them ruthlessly.

“Are there any more children?” Scott gasped as he realized that the smoke he’d smelt earlier had spread, another indication of a fire somewhere.

“Not that…” Hank froze as the sound of an animalistic roar filled the air. He caught the faint but distinct sound of a voice pleading, begging for something although he couldn’t understand what it was. He knew though that the voice did not belong to the man screaming out his agony.

With each second the shriek echoed with an eerie, pain filled, terror driven sound. It drew shudders from both men. The screams echoed through the hallway, even as another, fainter scream filled the night.

“What was that?”

“Wolverine?” Hank suggested as both caught sight of Colossus racing toward them. “What’s going on?”

“The entire west wing is on fire. Can’t get through the flames.”

“That section is empty. Logan did a sweep.” Scott panted sinking to his knees even as he lifted a communicator off a fallen soldier. Holding it to his ear he listened to the army calling the attack off. “They’re leaving. Come on we’ve got to get that fire under control.”

Racing outside the trio froze. Torrential rain was falling, smothering the flames that had devoured a quarter of the dormitory wing. Through the flames, through the stench of death came a new smell one that had Scott gagging.

“Oh my God what is that smell?” Bobby gasped joining them.

“Flesh.” Hank replied. “Burning flesh.” He replied slowly.

“Good should let ‘em burn.”

“We’ll have to.” Scott replied before barking out orders to contain the fire. They couldn’t expect Storm to do all the work by herself.


It had been hours later before anyone had known. Scott had been digging through the charred remains in search of embers, a heavy duty extinguisher in his hands, and his mind on removing the damage when he’d stumbled upon them.

Stumbling, tripping over something hard, Scott set the extinguisher down on a pile of soggy charcoal. Turning he braced himself as best he could before he began moving burnt beams and other debris out of the way.

With each board he moved he felt a wave of unease creeping up on him. Lifting a beam out of the way he tossed it aside and stumbled back, landing on his ass. The glinting, winking of silver didn’t bode well for the hope of the remaining residents. Head count had been taken and now they knew how many had been lost, and how many were still missing.

“Scott you okay?” Piotr called from a few yards away..

Shaking his head, Scott scrambled onto his knees and began digging furiously in the soggy mess. The glint of metal only drove him to hurry more. Slowly the distinct shape of a humerus bone became even clearer. Throwing rubbish aside he clawed at the soot and ashes, uncovering more metallic bones.

“Scott what did you find?” Jean’s voice drew his attention and he glanced at her for a moment before shifting, following the arm bones until he reached the twisted tangle of what had once been a hand. “Scott?”

“Logan.” He muttered softly, picking through the ashes gently as he realized that there were more bones. Bones unfettered by metal were tangled within the charred chain.

“What do you…?” Jean gasped as she glanced down at the tangled mess of metal, bones, and tags. “Dear God! I…I…”

Staring into the shocked, horrified gaze of his wife, Scott felt the guilt raking through his body. Turning back he stared down at the remains beneath him and sighed. He should have known, should have done something…



“You seem pensive, my friend.” Hank’s voice drew Scott from his musings and he turned to stare at the blue furred man he called a friend.

“Jean said she saw Logan…”

“He has been dead for ten years now.” Hank reminded Scott gently. “There is no way she could have seen him.”

“I know. Every year she does this, every year she keeps reliving the attack, finding Logan. I’ve tried to get her give it up but…”

“Sometimes old friend, you have to let things happen as the may.” Hank replied as Scott nodded on his way out of the room. Turning to the window, Hank walked over and stared out. It had taken the mansion years to deal with the death of two and even now he still felt a twinge of grief.

Frowning he stared hard at the slim figure dressed in a dark cloak that fell to mid-calf. Shocked speechless he watched as the figure turned to stare at the mansion, the pale light a halo around the head.

From the shadows another figure joined the first; the tall man strode across the gravel toward the first and stopped inches away from it. Hank stood still and watched as the man wrapped an arm around the cloaked figure, pushing back the hood to reveal two-tone hair and an angelic face. Together, their arms wrapped around each other they strode away from the mansion, vanishing like a puff of smoke into the hedges that lined the rose garden Ororo loved so dearly.

“How blind we were,” Hank whispered sadly, “How foolish and small minded not to see.” Turning from the window, Hank headed for the lab.

Outside in the pale glow of a full moon two people walked alone, their lives cut short. Only the grounds saw them embrace, saw the love they shared as they walked through eternity together. Two lost souls that loved too strongly to cross over – two souls that refused to leave the one place they’d been accepted.
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