July 19th, 2005


Lost All My Mirth (What’s Past is Prologue 2/18)

The funeral was private. It was held at St. Paul’s Chapel of St. John’s Episcopal Parish in South Salem, of course. That had been the venue of every Xavier family funeral since that of Erasmus Xavier in 1903. No one attended but the priest and the X-Men. Current X-Men only, and all of them in uniform. They filed in silently, Cyclops in the lead. If Father Charlton thought it strange that they were in black leather rather than dark suits and dresses, he didn’t say. And if any of the others thought it should have been a more public event, they weren’t saying, either. Private and in uniform was how Scott said it was going to be, and nobody was arguing with Scott these days.

They had discussed it among themselves, though, in the days between the Professor’s death and the funeral. Rogue had returned to Westchester a few days before Charles’s death, and had stayed around to help out. She had offered to take charge of answering calls to the mansion, to free up the current X-Men for other duties. Quickly inundated with questions she was unable to answer, she had set incoming calls to go directly to voice mail and gone looking for Jean. She found her in the teacher’s lounge, with the other X-Men. All except Scott, who was right then meeting with Father Charlton to make plans for the funeral. “How long has he been in there?” Rogue asked.

“Going on two hours,” Bobby replied, glancing at his watch. “He’s telling him a million stories about the Professor, I bet.”

“And ending every one with ‘don’t forget to put that in the eulogy,’ no doubt,” Warren added, eliciting chuckles of recognition.
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