Don stood, arms behind his back, just outside the doorway to the room where the bodies were laid. The state funeral offered for Professor Xavier for his great work in genetics and mutant rights activism had been rejected; the X-men would take this final trip together with their mentor and friend. Don had helped plan the funeral with the families. He had been surprised to find that he had been named co-executor to many of the wills--and not displeased that his friends had trusted him enough to make him responsible for such a thing, although because Donatello could not meet with lawyers or funeral home workers, a human co-executor had been named as well: Alex Summers. It was ironic that where Don had to be calm and reasoning to perform his duties, he was a psychological mess.
Don felt a hand on his shoulder. Emily. She frowned at him, her green eyes bright. "Uncle Don? Where's Uncle Raph?" So confident, so sure that Raph would be there. Dammit, Raph! How can you do this to them? They need you now, more than ever, and you aren't here! Selfish, selfish, selfish! Don bowed his head. Now it would be him, not Raph, who had to watch Emily's eyes turn dark as she learned of Raphael's betrayal.
"I-" Don stopped. How to say it? "Raph's not coming." Emily gaped.
"What?"
"He was upset, and he couldn't handle it. So he ran away." Don's voice was heavy with bitterness. Damn him! "Don't cry, Em." He cradled her against his chest.
"Will he be back?"
"I don't know Em. Maybe. He usually does come back, but he's never been this upset..." Don shook his head. "Let's go." It was almost time for the private funeral to begin. Just the families and close friends, and the minister who would lay their spirits to rest. And Alex had promised that the minister was an honest man; he wouldn't betray Don's secret. Or the X-men's, either. (A Christian burial had been decided upon; those of the X-men who were not Christian were generally atheist, and all had expressed, in their wills, a desire to be buried with the other X-men...Their spouses and children might later join them on in the burial grounds.) Don gently led Emily into the room. The coffins were closed, hiding the terribly mutilated bodies that even morticians couldn't repair. So sad....everyone always had to die.
Most of the guests were already there, dressed in fancy black clothes. Sure, thought Don, Let's depress ourselves even more. He sat with Emily, next to Jeremy. Poor kids. Both their parents dead in one cruel blow. Half the wills had been read already, Scott and Jean's among them, and the twins were to be under Alex's guardianship. They would have to leave the X mansion, but at least they would have a family who cared for them. They were determined to return to Salem Center when they turned eighteen. Stubborn as their parents, Raph would have said. No! Don thought. Don't think about him! He's gone. But Don couldn't keep the pain of his brother's desertion away. They all needed Raph here, for support.
The rest of the families straggled in as the minister stepped to the front. Don tried not to meet eyes with anyone; he knew that if he looked at the Professor's widow or kid one more time, he was going to cry. I must try and be strong. He had a feeling that if he started crying, he would set off every other person in the room in a chain reaction of sobbing.
"Blessed be the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, the source of all mercy and the God of all consolation. He comforts us in all our sorrows so that we can comfort others in their sorrows with the consolation we ourselves have received from God." He blinked back tears. Not already! Stop crying, he ordered himself. Taking a few deep breaths, he tried to remain calm as he spoke with the others, "Thanks be to God." He didn't mind the service or the emphasis on God; in fact, he had been baptized into the Lutheran faith a few years before. But of late he had been extremely negligent of his faith. I shouldn't be, he reminded himself, and silently promised to do better.
"When we were baptized in Christ Jesus, we were baptized into his death. We were buried therefor with him by Baptism into death, so that as Christ was raised from the dead by the glory of the Father, we too might live a new life. For if we have been united with him in a death like his, we shall certainly be united with him in a resurrection like his." Don had accepted the beliefs of the Lutheran church, namely that the only salvation was through belief in Jesus Christ. What then, happened to those who did NOT believe in Christ? Don considered the people he knew, his brothers especially, who had rejected Christianity....Was hell in store for them? Don didn't like to think about it, and tried to avoid the subject. Especially now, with the X-men dead, the idea seemed grim and worrisome.
There was a movement to Don's left and he saw Jubilee's husband, Jonothan, staring towards the door in the back. The whole room turned to follow his gaze.
Wolverine stood beside the door, in a suit and tie, amazingly, but undeniably alive. Don mouthed his name. He nodded grimly. "Hey, kids," he growled. "Not too late, am I?" Don offered him a seat, but he shook his head. "I'm just fine right here." He nodded to the minister, who swallowed and continued the service: "The Lord be with you."
"And also with you," Don echoes, as he savored his thought: Wolverine, alive! It was almost too good to be true. Or not. Speculation had arisen among the X-men's survivors...who had offed the team on a peaceful night in the mansion? Who had known they would be there, besides the X-men themselves? Was it possible that they had been betrayed from the inside? No, thought Don fiercely. Wolverine and Gambit couldn't do a thing like that. They wouldn't betray their friends and families. Even Wolverine, though he had no wife or children, even the X-man who was heralded as having the attitude of a wild animal, would not do such a thing, Don was sure. Later, you can think about the murderer's identity. Now pay attention.
He tuned out the minister's prayer and sank deeper into his memory...
("Cripes, I feel like throwin' up," Jubilee moaned. Don was busy, using his teeth to rip a blanket into strips. He crouched next to her in the brush as she held her leg tightly where it had been torn open by the bullet. Don cocked his head. No damn Genoshans had found them yet--but they were in it deep. Where the hell was Cyke with reinforcements?
Don tried to stay calm as he spoke to the disturbed young woman. "Haven't you ever been shot before?"
"Nah, have you?" Jubilee was experienced in combat, but she had a lot too learn. Don sighed.
"Several times, yes. Not exactly a pleasant experience, I confess, but you must learn to cope somehow." He put down the strips and examined her wound. Then, as her eyes widened, he removed a knife from his belt.
"Hang on--what are you doing?" Jubilee sounded close to panic.
"Have to get the bullet out," Don said calmly. He grimaced. "Wish it was a little more sterile, but this is the best we can do. Hang on, this is gonna hurt like hell." Grimly, he inserted the point of his knife and levered it under the bullet, which fortunately had lodged fairly shallowly. Jubilee gasped and swore at him, but Don ignored her. He had to get this wound bandaged before Jubilee bled to death. Pulling the knife at slight angle, he levered the bullet out of the hole in her leg. Rapidly, Don began to wrap her leg with the blanket strips. He grabbed his knife as a figure burst into the area with a growl, then relaxed. Finally!
"Finally found ya," growled Wolverine. He assessed the situation with one glance. "C'mon, Julilee. I'll get ya back to th' Blackbird.")
Don frowned to himself. He felt a finger in his side. "Don," hissed Emily. She was poking at him urgently. "The eulogy."
Don suddenly felt sick. They had asked him to do the eulogy. ("Why do I have so many friggin' responsibilities!" Don snarled.
"Because you're responsible. They trusted you, and we trust you, to help when there's trouble. You always have. And we need you; most of us...well, we're too emotional to be much good right now." Alex was calm, assured. He'd always been the volatile one, Scott the calm and commanding. But now Scott was dead, and his little brother had troubles and responsibilities to bear.
"And I'm not?" growled Don. His head was spinning. Everything was up to him! The wills, the bodies, the funeral, and now the eulogy. If not for Alex, he would have gone totally insane.
"You can do it, Don. I myself am glad of it...Keeps my mind off what's really going on," Alex said softly. "You fall apart if you don't have anything to do." Don shrugged.
"I guess."
"Well, then, do it. If you need help, I'm here, and the others are here." Alex touched his shoulder, a warm and confident presence.
Don heaved a sigh. "No, Alex. If I have to do this eulogy, I'm going to do it all by myself.)
Don slowly stood, clutching the papers full of notes with sweaty hands. As he got to the pulpit, the minister stepped aside for him. Gulping with nervousness, he stood in the pulpit, laid his eulogy down, and closed his eyes for a moment. When he opened them, everyone was looking at him. He drew in his breath slowly, then exhaled. "Ah-I prepared a eulogy for this...occassion," he began shakily. Then he stared at his eulogy. Last night he had been glad to get something down that looked and sounded halfway decent. But now, reading the words again, they seemed forced, unweildy. Was this really the testimony he wanted to give to the X-men? The last words he would say before they were gone forever? "No," he murmured to himself. Then, aloud, "But I have decided to ad-lib." Without another glance, he turned his sheets of paper over, and began.
"When I met the X-men sixteen years ago, it was not exactly under the best of circumstances. My brothers and I were in Genosha, when the oppressive 'democracy' was still in power. We wanted to do something about it, but even Raphael admitted that frontal assault on the Genoshans, who were highly technologically advanced and well-defended, would be a mistake. Instead, we chose an indirect way of ending the problem; we would return to the U.S. with extensive proof of the oppression of mutants in Genosha, spread it around the media, and wait for the American system to do its work. But the night before we were scheduled to return to the States, guerilla rebels attacked five military installations. All civilian craft were grounded, and the four of us were trapped in a mutant-hating country."
"It was then that we encountered the X-men. The meeting involved myself, an X-man, and a Genoshan soldier. I was on the wrong end of an AK-47, and the Genoshan was holding it. The X-man was Gambit. He saved my life."
"How that conflict was resolved is too long a story to tell now, but suffice it to say that it gave me my first impressions of the X-men: they were brave, courageous, and willing to sacrific themselves to free a country full of people that had no direct impact on their lives. I admired that. And eventually, when we returned to the U.S., I had the opportunity to meet Charles Francis Xavier. Xavier was always a sort of role model for me. I studied genetics and mutants, and his work had always been a source of great interest for me. I also was aware of his humanitarian efforts, and supported his work in mutant rights--for quite obvious reasons."
"So for me, it was a dream come true, a chance to meet someone whom I felt would be one of the great movers of history; a man who pressed other people to action, and who pursued his work as far as humanly possible. Professor Xavier was the man I'd expected in some ways. But in others, I found he was not. Like many people, he had a habit of doing the unexpected or incomprehensible. But never without good reason, because everything he did had a purpose. I liked him from the moment I met him, and I believe he liked me, because a few weeks after we first spoke, he invited me to study with him, along with my brother Raphael."
"Professor Xavier felt that he could help me with what seemed to be an inherant clairvoyant ability. Raph is a telepath and a telekinetic, both powers with which Xavier was very experienced in dealing. I was thrilled to be a part of his school, even if I was only a part-time student, since I chose not to leave my family and live at the school. He was able to help my brother, but unfortunately not me. Despite this, I decided that I could still learn from Professor Xavier. With him I delved deeply into genetics, and into the study of mutant powers. But he did more than just teach me science and theory. He instilled in me a sense of his dream: that all mutants and humans could live peacefully together."
"I think that this is a dream which all people have. Some subdue it, some pervert to match their own goals, some just dream about it all their lives and never act to fulfill it. But Xavier was different. He was the first person to let the world know that it WAS possible, that mutant-human peace was a realistic goal. That's something that all of us can understand, having lived and worked with the X-men. That peace was no dream, it was a reality, and it was coming soon. That's the hope we lived for, still live for. That's the hope that we will have until the day we see it come true."
"The X-men always believed that. That hope for peace was what they dedicated themselves to serve when the first joined Xavier's school. The X-men spent their entire lives trying to solve the mutant-human problem. They attended countless state dinners, diplomatic meetings, and peace treaty signings. But they didn't back out when things got harder. No, they were willing to risk their lives for OUR sake; for the sake of every single person on the planet, on the offchance that the battle they were fighting would convince the world that mutants weren't so bad after all, and that the dream was still worth fighting for. And for all the years I've known them, they've held on."
"I can't say they've never faltered or had trouble; because they have, and there have been occassions when they fell, and fell hard. I saw those times, and the X-men survived them. And over the years, as Raph and I grew closer to these extraordinary people, I was proud to be an honorary X-man, to serve the dream along with the rest of them. I was proud to be a part of the love, the hope, and the honor that made the X-men what they were; and what they still are."
"I don't know anything about life after death. I don't know if the X-men are now dwelling on another plane of existance. What I do know is that the X-men were more than the few wonderful people who we honor here today; they were the dream of a better, more peaceful future. And while we can honor those who died while still trying to fulfill that dream, we cannot honor the dream itself; because it is not dead. The dream is still good; it is a part of us. And as long as one person who believes in it still lives, the dream lives. And through the dream, the X-men, too, will live on."
Don was in a fog as he stepped down from the pulpit, breathing heavily, and almost sick with sadness. Through his haze, he saw Erica, holding him at arms length. Tears were running down her cheeks. "Oh, Don," she whispered to him. "Thank you." He hugged her, and both found that they were crying helplessly, with great heaving sobs that left them hollow. They didn't know if anyone else was crying, and they didn't care. All that mattered was the bond they felt growing between them, even as they laid Erica's husband to rest.
So sunk was he in his own emotions was he that he didn't notice Emily standing at the pulpit until she began to speak. "I wrote a poem," she said softly. "To read. For my parents...and the others." She bit her lip and began to read off a sheet of paper. "Darkened Roads."
"A lonely trumpet toots its last,
The day has come to end,
And now the trumpet sounds its note,
The wearied souls to send.
Off to the longest rest of all,
They move without a cry,
But only go, not wondering,
Why they should have to die.
Some are there that died too young,
Their lives were not half lived.
But some are old, and go in peace,
Their murders they forgive.
All were brave and true and loved,
Their work would make us free,
To live a life as equals of
A kind humanity.
But now they're gone, we must adjust,
To live without them near,
For though they have their peace at last,
We must endure life here.
But as we traverse darkened roads,
Be comforted, my friends.
For those who've died still live with us,
Until our own road ends."
Emily almost ran back to her seat to hug Jeremy and Don close to her, tears running down her cheeks. "It was beautiful, Em," whispered Don in her ear as he stroked her hair. "They'd be so proud of you; they always were." Emily nodded through her tears, sat back into her seat. Don bowed his head again as the minister stepped back to his place, wiping away his own tears as he resumed the service.
He skipped over some of the more conventional parts of the service; the creed, the lessons, the gospel, and the sermon. Instead, he began the prayers. Mechanically, Don followed along in his hymnal, taking his cues from the rest of the company, chanting "Hear us, Lord," after each prayer.
Finally, the preacher stood to read the commendation over each of the coffins. "Into your hands, O merciful Savior, we commend your servant, Charles Francis Xavier. Acknowledge, we humbly beseech you, a sheep of your own fold, a lamb of your own flock, a sinner of your own redeeming. Receive him into the arms of your mercy, into the blessed rest of everlasting peace, and into the glorious company of the saints in light. Amen." Again, talk of heaven. Don tried to put it aside, but he cried silently as he prayed for it to be over. Gladly, he went forward with most of the other family members present. His stomach turned as he lifted a coffin; he didn't know which X-man lay inside it, and didn't want to. Jeremy and Alex exchanged sympathetic looks with him. Jonothan rubbed his shoulder comfortingly as he passed by. Then, they proceeded out to the hearses.
The drive to the large burial plot on Xavier land was totally silent.
Once there, they were all silent underneath the unyielding sky, on the cold, hard, barren earth. How appropriate, Don thought cynically. Even in their death, the entire planet rejects them. Hank McCoy's son James read aloud a lesson from the Bible, something about eternal life. Then the minister spoke up again. Oh, God, Don thought. Get me through this. Each of the bodies would have to be commited individually, and Don did not know how much longer he'd be able to deal with his overwhelming urge to break down and scream.
"In sure and certain hope of the resurrection to eternal life through our Lord Jesus Christ, we commend to almighty God our brother, Charles Francis Xavier, and we commit his body to the elements; earth to earth, ashes to ashes, dust to dust. The Lord bless him and keep him. The Lord make his face to shine on him and be gracious to him. The Lord look upon him with favor and give him peace. Amen." Don helped to shovel the dirt back into the dark holes, covering the coffins which contained the bodies of his friends. The enormity of it was too much to comprehend. His mind was a blur as the other commitals proceeded. When her father's name was read, Emily clung to Don with a sob, but he was barely conscious of her presence.
With the final "Let us go in peace," the service was over, and the gathering began to disperse. Don crouched in the center of the burial plot, unheeding pleas for him to come inside, it was too bloody cold out for this. Finally, Alex said, "Let him alone," and they did.
Donatello sat there, lost within himself, with his own silent prayer.
The Lord bless them and keep them.
The Lord make his face to shine on them and be gracious to them.
The Lord look upon them with favor and give them peace.
Peace, indeed. Don started back to his car for the long drive home.