![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
apachefirecat posting in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
halfamoonTitle: Goodbye
Fandom: X-Men/Avengers
Author: Apache Firecat
Characters: Ororo, mild Tony/Emma, past T'Challa/Ororo
Rating: PG-13/T
Summary: Ororo always goes home when searching for the most important answers.
Word Count: 1,850
Written For: HalfADay 2025: Day 5: Nature
Date Written: 3 February 2025
Warnings: Spoilers
Disclaimer: All characters within belong to their rightful owners, not the author, and are used without permission.
This wasn't where she wanted to be. It wasn't where she wanted to be in her life, in her world, or in her career. Nothing had ever felt right again after she had left the X-Men to wed T'Challa. She should have known it was a mistake, but she had always been torn when trying to help two, or more, different sets of people. And it seemed that her life was destined to always bring her back to that very dilemma.
She had failed with the Morlocks. She had failed with her husband, with her marriage and her own blood people. She had failed with Krakoa. She had failed so many times, and she didn't want to keep failing.
She had survived. She always found a way to survive, powerless or not, X-Man or not. Even during the times, as now, when she had grown weary of surviving, she had always, in the end, survived. She knew her beloved Goddess had more in store for her. She must, for why else would she keep bringing her back to these harsh decisions? Why else would the Bright Lady keep having her to survive?
There had been a time, a time when she had cut her hair and dressed solely in black leather, when Ororo had come to very nearly believe the worst in life and the people that populated hers. She had had dear friends then who had helped her to see reason. She could easily reach out to them now. There would always be a place with her beside Logan, Kitty, or amongst nearly any of the X-Men, surely amongst any of their teams. She had heard Scott was back in Alaska, and that the Professor was believed to be being held at Westchester. She should work to free him, and she would, if not for the dreams that kept filling her head.
Ororo sighed, and a wind whistled throughout the tall trees currently housing her. She looked out over the savanna, watching the tall, spotted giraffes and noble antelope graze. The lions were not too far away, but they were sated for now. She'd heard, too, the chilling laughter of the hyenas on the wind earlier. But she knew she had to let Mother Nature take Her course.
She had to let Mother Nature take her course, dictate her fate -- and she had to do what the Goddess wanted, or else more disaster would rip forward in her life. She had had dreams about marrying T'Challa, but she had dismissed as her subconscious fears and wed him anyway. She should have listened, just as she recognized she must now do as her dreams are telling her. She must not go back to the X-Men, not yet anyway. The time is not right, and more heartache awaits them all.
Besides, she can help the world more by taking the position offered to her with the Avengers. Their team is still strong and active in saving the world. They have not been relegated to the shadows, forced to withdraw from heroics to simply survive. Her people need her, but the people of this whole world need her, as they always have. The Avengers help the whole world, and surely in their vast number and amounts of knowledge and resources, she will be able to find ways to help more, rather than to simply keep having to choose the lesser of two evils.
She should regret Mars, and in a way, she does. She should have seen the trouble it would come to cause, with the people of her genes populating an entire different planet. She had thought it would be a way to make peace, but she should have known better. She'd been blinded, though, by her own superiority complex, upon which she had later been called out by a child she had watched grow to manhood, a child to whom they all would have done well, or at least better, to have listened.
But they had not, and blood had rained as it does still in her nightly nightmares. The only dreams she has these nights that do not end in heartbreaking deaths or complete massacres are those where she wields a hammer, those where she claims to be what she knows, deep down, she is not. Charles was right. She is not a goddess! She is a mutant, forged to be a weapon of the true Bright Lady instead.
Her white head bowed, her eyes closed against the tears that seemed so frequently to still be springing to her eyes these days. She had not cried so much since the annulment of her marriage. She has cried far too much over the last several decades, endured too much heartache, chosen far too many wrong paths... And so many good souls have died because of her poor decisions.
But a decision made purely from her instincts could not be a wrong decision. She ached to return home to the X-Men, but her family, her top chosen family, no longer had a home. It was destroyed, turned into a prison against their very people, the very lives it had sheltered for so many years. They should have moved long ago, made better decisions long ago. Honestly, they should have taken their people into Krakoa and then closed the portals for good. But had she not been chief among those who had decided to continue helping mankind, at their own risk? It was yet another decision she should have made differently, yet another choice she had made that led to many deaths, this time across multiple planets.
Have you decided? The touch to her mind is surprisingly gentle for the woman with whom she once held so much enmity. She sighed again but did not reopen her eyes. She waited for a moment, but no further communication came. Emma had grown patient and would wait -- but Ororo recognized the truth of why she wanted to know. She knew too that the other woman held as many deep regrets about her wrong choices over their years as she herself did. She was in mourning, too, with a broken heart from another annulled marriage, one she'd chosen to annul not because it could not work or because her husband had proven to be a cruel master but because she felt she could not continue to help their people to the best of her abilities if she stayed relegated to being a wife.
It wasn't fair, a pair of her thought, all these choices they had to make. It wasn't fair, how much they had to sacrifice in order to help their people who needed them. It wasn't fair, that they themselves could never be happy for long. Another tear trailed down her dark, beautiful face, but this one was not only through self-pity. Emma had allowed her to feel just a touch of her pain over the thousands of miles that currently separated them, just enough to remind her she understood and she was not the only one suffering and grieving.
She recalled a previous conversation they had had, the last time their paths had crossed, Ororo because of her current allegiance with the Thunder God Thor and Emma because she had still been wed to Iron Man at the time. She had asked her, her own heart so heavy she had desperately sought the advice of another woman of her own genes and shared past experiences, another leader who had had to make so many painful decisions in her long, brutal life. Do you ever have regrets?
Emma had raised her blonde head, proudly as she always did, and looked Ororo directly in her eyes as the men around them chattered. Only ever day of my life, darling, she had answered truthfully, allowing Ororo to feel a very brief surge of her own, private emotions. Only every day of my life.
Ororo reopened her eyes and gazed once more across the savanna. She noted the tall grass where the predators began to move. The sun was sinking low, and they would soon need to dine again. She had not realized the hours she had stayed here in this, one of her favorite trees in the whole world. Time always lost its meaning in the African wilderness, but it kept marching forward no matter what. It kept marching forward for them all. And just as the predators again needed to help, and the prey must again flee, she needed to help people again. She needed to help them for her own sake nearly as much as they needed her aid.
She stretched, not unlike a jungle cat herself. She would fly in the morning. The pit of her stomach told her Thor already knew her answer. But then, she realized, she had always known her answer. She would go where she could most provide genuine assistance, but perhaps this time, the decisions -- the harsh decisions of who lived and who was sacrificed -- would not have to all be hers.
She had not had to come out here to the womb of Mother Nature, she realized, to know her answer as she at last answered Emma's gentle probe, I suppose I always knew.
She was not surprised by her friend's answer softly whispering within her mind, I know, nor by the request that followed, Watch after him, Ororo, please?
You know I will, Emma. She had loved the man, truly loved Tony Starke, something even Emma herself had not believed herself capable of, but she had sacrificed their marriage for the better good of their people. They had both made so many sacrifices over the years. Good night.
Emma did not respond, but Ororo knew from their time spent in shared grieving over Kitten that she no longer always told the people she cared for goodbye. It hurt too much, and some survivors like themselves understood a shared concern: Sometimes goodbye truly was goodbye, so perhaps it was best not to speak amongst people to whom you were not ready to say goodbye. She felt Emma's mind withdraw from hers, as gently and subtly as it had first reached out, and returned to her own thoughts as she surveyed the prairie.
The night was drawing near, and she was alone. She so often felt alone, even when she was surrounded by people, yet she was never truly alone. The Bright Lady was always there. She only had to ask, listen to, and most of all, accept Her answers. Her winds whistled through the tall, regal trees. Tears still shining in her blue eyes, Ororo began to sing softly. It was the only song she could still remember her mother having sang to her. It was an old song of belief and acceptance, a song that spoke that time would continue to turn but all would come full circle in the Bright Mother's caring arms. Ororo sang and cried, but tomorrow, she would fly and would help again.
The End
Fandom: X-Men/Avengers
Author: Apache Firecat
Characters: Ororo, mild Tony/Emma, past T'Challa/Ororo
Rating: PG-13/T
Summary: Ororo always goes home when searching for the most important answers.
Word Count: 1,850
Written For: HalfADay 2025: Day 5: Nature
Date Written: 3 February 2025
Warnings: Spoilers
Disclaimer: All characters within belong to their rightful owners, not the author, and are used without permission.
This wasn't where she wanted to be. It wasn't where she wanted to be in her life, in her world, or in her career. Nothing had ever felt right again after she had left the X-Men to wed T'Challa. She should have known it was a mistake, but she had always been torn when trying to help two, or more, different sets of people. And it seemed that her life was destined to always bring her back to that very dilemma.
She had failed with the Morlocks. She had failed with her husband, with her marriage and her own blood people. She had failed with Krakoa. She had failed so many times, and she didn't want to keep failing.
She had survived. She always found a way to survive, powerless or not, X-Man or not. Even during the times, as now, when she had grown weary of surviving, she had always, in the end, survived. She knew her beloved Goddess had more in store for her. She must, for why else would she keep bringing her back to these harsh decisions? Why else would the Bright Lady keep having her to survive?
There had been a time, a time when she had cut her hair and dressed solely in black leather, when Ororo had come to very nearly believe the worst in life and the people that populated hers. She had had dear friends then who had helped her to see reason. She could easily reach out to them now. There would always be a place with her beside Logan, Kitty, or amongst nearly any of the X-Men, surely amongst any of their teams. She had heard Scott was back in Alaska, and that the Professor was believed to be being held at Westchester. She should work to free him, and she would, if not for the dreams that kept filling her head.
Ororo sighed, and a wind whistled throughout the tall trees currently housing her. She looked out over the savanna, watching the tall, spotted giraffes and noble antelope graze. The lions were not too far away, but they were sated for now. She'd heard, too, the chilling laughter of the hyenas on the wind earlier. But she knew she had to let Mother Nature take Her course.
She had to let Mother Nature take her course, dictate her fate -- and she had to do what the Goddess wanted, or else more disaster would rip forward in her life. She had had dreams about marrying T'Challa, but she had dismissed as her subconscious fears and wed him anyway. She should have listened, just as she recognized she must now do as her dreams are telling her. She must not go back to the X-Men, not yet anyway. The time is not right, and more heartache awaits them all.
Besides, she can help the world more by taking the position offered to her with the Avengers. Their team is still strong and active in saving the world. They have not been relegated to the shadows, forced to withdraw from heroics to simply survive. Her people need her, but the people of this whole world need her, as they always have. The Avengers help the whole world, and surely in their vast number and amounts of knowledge and resources, she will be able to find ways to help more, rather than to simply keep having to choose the lesser of two evils.
She should regret Mars, and in a way, she does. She should have seen the trouble it would come to cause, with the people of her genes populating an entire different planet. She had thought it would be a way to make peace, but she should have known better. She'd been blinded, though, by her own superiority complex, upon which she had later been called out by a child she had watched grow to manhood, a child to whom they all would have done well, or at least better, to have listened.
But they had not, and blood had rained as it does still in her nightly nightmares. The only dreams she has these nights that do not end in heartbreaking deaths or complete massacres are those where she wields a hammer, those where she claims to be what she knows, deep down, she is not. Charles was right. She is not a goddess! She is a mutant, forged to be a weapon of the true Bright Lady instead.
Her white head bowed, her eyes closed against the tears that seemed so frequently to still be springing to her eyes these days. She had not cried so much since the annulment of her marriage. She has cried far too much over the last several decades, endured too much heartache, chosen far too many wrong paths... And so many good souls have died because of her poor decisions.
But a decision made purely from her instincts could not be a wrong decision. She ached to return home to the X-Men, but her family, her top chosen family, no longer had a home. It was destroyed, turned into a prison against their very people, the very lives it had sheltered for so many years. They should have moved long ago, made better decisions long ago. Honestly, they should have taken their people into Krakoa and then closed the portals for good. But had she not been chief among those who had decided to continue helping mankind, at their own risk? It was yet another decision she should have made differently, yet another choice she had made that led to many deaths, this time across multiple planets.
Have you decided? The touch to her mind is surprisingly gentle for the woman with whom she once held so much enmity. She sighed again but did not reopen her eyes. She waited for a moment, but no further communication came. Emma had grown patient and would wait -- but Ororo recognized the truth of why she wanted to know. She knew too that the other woman held as many deep regrets about her wrong choices over their years as she herself did. She was in mourning, too, with a broken heart from another annulled marriage, one she'd chosen to annul not because it could not work or because her husband had proven to be a cruel master but because she felt she could not continue to help their people to the best of her abilities if she stayed relegated to being a wife.
It wasn't fair, a pair of her thought, all these choices they had to make. It wasn't fair, how much they had to sacrifice in order to help their people who needed them. It wasn't fair, that they themselves could never be happy for long. Another tear trailed down her dark, beautiful face, but this one was not only through self-pity. Emma had allowed her to feel just a touch of her pain over the thousands of miles that currently separated them, just enough to remind her she understood and she was not the only one suffering and grieving.
She recalled a previous conversation they had had, the last time their paths had crossed, Ororo because of her current allegiance with the Thunder God Thor and Emma because she had still been wed to Iron Man at the time. She had asked her, her own heart so heavy she had desperately sought the advice of another woman of her own genes and shared past experiences, another leader who had had to make so many painful decisions in her long, brutal life. Do you ever have regrets?
Emma had raised her blonde head, proudly as she always did, and looked Ororo directly in her eyes as the men around them chattered. Only ever day of my life, darling, she had answered truthfully, allowing Ororo to feel a very brief surge of her own, private emotions. Only every day of my life.
Ororo reopened her eyes and gazed once more across the savanna. She noted the tall grass where the predators began to move. The sun was sinking low, and they would soon need to dine again. She had not realized the hours she had stayed here in this, one of her favorite trees in the whole world. Time always lost its meaning in the African wilderness, but it kept marching forward no matter what. It kept marching forward for them all. And just as the predators again needed to help, and the prey must again flee, she needed to help people again. She needed to help them for her own sake nearly as much as they needed her aid.
She stretched, not unlike a jungle cat herself. She would fly in the morning. The pit of her stomach told her Thor already knew her answer. But then, she realized, she had always known her answer. She would go where she could most provide genuine assistance, but perhaps this time, the decisions -- the harsh decisions of who lived and who was sacrificed -- would not have to all be hers.
She had not had to come out here to the womb of Mother Nature, she realized, to know her answer as she at last answered Emma's gentle probe, I suppose I always knew.
She was not surprised by her friend's answer softly whispering within her mind, I know, nor by the request that followed, Watch after him, Ororo, please?
You know I will, Emma. She had loved the man, truly loved Tony Starke, something even Emma herself had not believed herself capable of, but she had sacrificed their marriage for the better good of their people. They had both made so many sacrifices over the years. Good night.
Emma did not respond, but Ororo knew from their time spent in shared grieving over Kitten that she no longer always told the people she cared for goodbye. It hurt too much, and some survivors like themselves understood a shared concern: Sometimes goodbye truly was goodbye, so perhaps it was best not to speak amongst people to whom you were not ready to say goodbye. She felt Emma's mind withdraw from hers, as gently and subtly as it had first reached out, and returned to her own thoughts as she surveyed the prairie.
The night was drawing near, and she was alone. She so often felt alone, even when she was surrounded by people, yet she was never truly alone. The Bright Lady was always there. She only had to ask, listen to, and most of all, accept Her answers. Her winds whistled through the tall, regal trees. Tears still shining in her blue eyes, Ororo began to sing softly. It was the only song she could still remember her mother having sang to her. It was an old song of belief and acceptance, a song that spoke that time would continue to turn but all would come full circle in the Bright Mother's caring arms. Ororo sang and cried, but tomorrow, she would fly and would help again.
The End
