Work Text:
“And as for the mutant terrorist, Cyclops,” says the interviewer on the television screen. Ororo pauses on her way to the kitchen. “It’s widely known that you two were coworkers -- and even friends -- before he split off from your institute in Westchester, taking several of your teachers with him. How does it feel to be fighting against his new team, whose main goal seems to be the destruction of the X-Men?”
Ororo watches her own face on the screen -- the way she’d smiled, let her eyes show some sadness. The Ororo of two days ago says, “I can’t say it doesn’t break my heart, the way he’s turned his back on everything Charles taught us. But he’s made his choices. Now he faces their consequences.”
The interviewer nods, full of sympathy. Ororo reaches out and turns the television off.
She and Scott spent a lot of time together after Jean died. Grief seemed to permeate the whole mansion, back then -- and no one seemed willing to look Scott in the eye.
Ororo didn’t have that problem. She knew his grief.
Neither of them were sleeping very well. They had a routine: Ororo would say goodnight to everyone, go up to bed. She would lie in the dark for awhile, wide awake. Then she would come downstairs. Scott would already be in the kitchen, reviewing protocols or going over school finances or, most likely, sitting staring into space.
Every night, by the time she came down, he had a cup of tea waiting for her. Every night, as she sat down, she would reach out and grasp his hand.
They’d sit there until they couldn’t keep their eyes open, bypassing the insomnia via work -- their favorite method. Ororo learned a lot about climate patterns that summer, reading scientific papers that Charles had xeroxed for her. She’s still not sure what Scott learned.
Steve Rogers visits the school to brief Logan. On the way out, he stops by her office, leaning into the doorway. “Can I have a word, Storm?”
“Of course, Captain,” she says, closing the bookkeeping. She still uses paper ledgers -- it’s how Charles taught them to keep the school running, back before computers were on every desk. “What can I help you with?”
He steps inside, closing the door behind him. His face is serious. “It’s about Scott.”
“Yes?” asks Ororo, letting her expression flatten to match his. She doesn’t point out that he’s using Scott’s first name, but her codename -- she thinks Steve Rogers will probably never realize the significance of the choice. “What about him?”
“Do you have a sense of the next place he’s hitting?”
Ororo frowns.
“I just mean-- we’ve been trying to track him, but he’s acting unpredictably,” Steve says. He’s keeping his body language open, friendly. “The Avengers don’t know Scott as well as the X-Men. Do you have any idea what his goal is? Why is he hitting mutant bases?”
Ororo says, “Trust me, if I knew the future, we wouldn’t be in this situation.”
“I know the X-Men have been trying to track him too,” says Steve. “Logan alluded to it, but he said-- he’s not team leader right now. Apparently I need to talk to you if I want information.”
Steve seems to be chafing a little at the idea that he has to answer to a hierarchy. Ororo sympathizes. But they run a school, where rules have to mean something and manners must be modeled. One day, she hopes, the Avengers will understand that.
“We know just as much as you do,” she says. “Right now we have no idea where Scott is headed next. The second we have a lead, you’re my first call.”
“This isn’t a prime-time interview, Storm,” says Steve, exasperated. Still her codename. “I don’t want the cover story. For god’s sake, you have Hank McCoy teaching your science classes! He grew up with Scott! You’re telling me even he can’t predict where he’s going next?”
Ororo doesn’t dignify that with a response.
Steve takes a deep breath. He says, “He’s been attacking mutant bases. First Mister Sinister’s city in Subterranea, which made sense, but then the X-Corporation’s Paris headquarters -- last week, it was the New Mutants’ house in San Francisco.” He pauses. “How soon until he hits this school, Storm?”
“Thank you for your care, Captain Rogers,” says Ororo. She stands. “Again, we will let the Avengers know as soon as we’ve learned anything.” She indicates the door. “It was a pleasure to see you.”
Steve stands, his eyes on her. “He’s targeting you,” he says. “You don’t have to protect him.”
Ororo says, “I’m not protecting him, Captain.”
She and Scott fought for leadership of the X-Men once.
She won.
“So,” says Logan, later that day. They’re sitting in the teacher’s lounge, classes over for the day. He’s already halfway through a beer. “Do we know where he’s going to hit next?”
Ororo looks at him.
He says, “I heard you gave Steve a pretty cold welcome.”
“I heard,” she says, “that you told him you weren’t authorized to share any information.”
“I’m not!” says Logan.
She wiggles her fingers in his direction.
“Yeah, yeah,” says Logan, handing her a beer.
“Thank you,” she says, accepting it. “And no, we don’t know what Scott is going to do next. If we did, we would stop him.” She raises her eyebrow at Logan. “You know that.”
The door slams open. “I think I have to defect,” says Hank.
Ororo raises an eyebrow.
Logan chuckles. “Sorry?”
“I think I’m starting to seem suspicious,” says Hank, closing the door behind him with one foot. He lopes over to them and takes the third chair, grabbing a bottle for himself. “Captain Rogers stopped by and asked me about Scott. I’m making the school look suspicious by proxy. I should be able to predict Scott’s moves. My inability to do so looks intentional.”
“Don’t defect to the other side just because people expect you to,” says Logan.
“Don’t defect at all,” says Ororo. She opens her bottle and takes a sip, grimacing at the taste of Logan’s shitty beer. Then she looks at Hank. “You know that we’re on shaky ground. Scott Summers acting alone is one thing. Other prominent mutants -- Hank McCoy, former Avenger -- defecting to his side is another. Or Wolverine, for that matter,” she adds, turning to Logan.
“Don’t look at me, sweetheart,” says Logan, putting his hands up. He makes a face. “You know I dream of spending my days with hordes of screaming mutant children.”
“I find my work at the school extremely fulfilling,” Hank says to her. They’re both well-practiced at ignoring Logan’s wisecracks. “You know that. But sometimes I think about him -- all alone. The whole world hates him.”
“He’s not alone,” corrects Ororo. “Emma’s with him.”
Logan says, “Right, ‘cause they do so well by themselves.”
Hank snorts. Ororo doesn’t return their smiles. “Besides that -- Scott has made his own choices. You know that. There’s nothing we can do about it now.”
“Right,” says Logan, “because Scott’s always so confident in his own choices.” Ororo doesn’t look at him. She knows he would’ve gone with Scott, if he’d asked. If Ororo hadn’t asked him to stay.
Hank tells her, “You’re getting very good at that line, aren’t you?”
Ororo sits back in her chair and doesn’t say anything.
Scott finds her in the kitchen, the night after Jean’s death. The second one.
They both laugh until they cry. Then they cry. Then, laughing again, they come up with the quote for her headstone.
She will rise again.
“And we’ll both be here,” Ororo says.
Scott nods.
“Headmaster? Can I ask you a question?”
Ororo waits along the side of the corridor for Anole can catch up. “Yes?”
“Some of the kids-- people have been saying,” he amends, glancing around. His voice lowers. “People are starting to talk about what we’ll do if Professor Summers -- if Cyclops attacks the school.”
Ororo slows to a stop. “Are you asking if he will?”
“I’m asking if there’s a plan,” says Anole, brave and sixteen years old.
She says, “He will not attack this school.”
“We don’t know that, though,” insists Anole. “Last year I wouldn’t have even been able to imagine Professor Summers attacking Dani’s base. Now he’s done that.”
Ororo can’t say, The New Mutants’ headquarters did not contain children, even though it’s the truth. Instead, she says, “Measures have been taken. Cyclops doesn’t know our defenses as well as he used to.”
“But we don’t know how to fight him.” Anole glances around again. “I know-- I know you guys don’t want to teach us how to fight our teachers. But he’s not our teacher anymore. He’s like Mystique. And we all get lessons on fighting shapeshifters.”
For a very brief moment, Ororo-- doesn’t know what to say.
She hadn’t thought about this part. Maybe Scott had -- if he had, he hadn’t warned her. But she’s not prepared for a world where she has to teach students to defeat the same man who’s had her back for most of her life.
“I just-- wanted to bring it up,” says Anole, breaking into her stormy thoughts. He’s looking at her like he’s a little afraid. Her expression must be terrible to witness. “Thank you for listening, headmaster.”
“Thank you for looking out for the school,” says Ororo, her voice low.
Anole seems to understand what she’s trying to convey. “You’re welcome, ma’am,” he says, then turns and goes back to class. Leaving Ororo standing there in the hallway.
When she spots Scott at her wedding, it feels like life had come full-circle. Seeing him there, in the place she thought she’d live forever, feels righter even than her meeting with Charles Xavier.
“Scott,” she says, coming through the crowd to grasp his hand.
“Ororo!” he says, his eyebrows rising in that way that implies he’s smiling behind the visor. He hugs her tightly for a moment, then lets her go. “My fullest congratulations to you, our fearless leader.”
Something about him calling her that, his smile crooked, hits her where it hurts. She blinks away unexpected tears. “Scott...”
“We’re so proud to know you,” says Scott quietly. Around them, the party goes on. “I know the Professor has already come to talk to you--”
“It means more to hear it from you,” says Ororo, honestly. “The Professor-- he wanted to tell me that I’m the highest profile mutant alive, now.”
Scott chuckles. “He always knew how to set expectations.”
Ororo says, “Indeed,” grateful he understands. She glances around, looking for T’Challa. As soon as she wants him, he’s there, standing at her elbow like he was born to be there.
She takes his hand. She likes this feeling.
“T’Challa-- you’ve met my longtime teammate, Scott Summers. Scott... you know my husband.”
They shake hands, grinning. Scott says, “It’s an honor to be invited, sir.”
“Ororo’s team means so much to her,” says T’Challa. He squeezes her hand. “We’re so grateful that all of you came, even among the current political climate.”
Ororo makes an expression she knows Scott recognizes. “Stark and the captain were not so gracious.”
Scott bites his lip, hiding a smile. “What a surprise.” He turns back to T’Challa. “The X-Men are always family, your majesty. You won’t have those issues here.”
“Unless it’s about Scott stealing Logan’s motorcycle,” adds Ororo in an aside.
“That’s-- that’s personal business.” Scott puts up his hands. “It isn’t my responsibility what happens when Logan can’t act like an adult when someone plays with his toys.”
“Oh, so Logan’s the one who’s acting childish there,” says Ororo, archly. “Not the man who has to spend every lesson telling the kids to do as he says and not as they see him do on the security tapes.”
T’Challa watches them both, grinning. “What a treat,” he says, “to see my noble wife brought down to the level of name-calling! I can see what you mean about family, Cyclops.”
“Call me Scott,” says Scott.
T’Challa glances at her. She explains, “We use our mutant names to separate the team’s actions from our personal lives. But the world tends to use our mutant names to forget that we’re people.”
“It’s become a bit of a political choice, these days,” adds Scott. “Some of the kids only want to be called their codenames. Others don’t even want a codename. It started -- if you introduced yourself to Magneto, he would refuse to use your human name. Then some kids started to pick up on it.”
Ororo squeezes T’Challa’s hand. “You don’t need to know all of this,” she says. “I know it’s a bit-- obscure.”
T’Challa makes a dismissive noise. “This is where you come from, just as much as Harlem or Cairo. You have met with the panther god, accepted the deepest traditions of Wakanda. What kind of a husband to you -- what kind of an ally to your team -- would I be, if I didn’t try to learn yours?”
For the second time in five minutes, Ororo is tearing up. She meets Scott’s eyes, hidden behind his visor. He’s smiling at both of them like nothing could ever go wrong.
“I’m glad Ororo picked you, your majesty,” he says to T’Challa. “May your marriage be a long and happy one.”
At the appointed time, Illyana Rasputin whirls into existence. Next to her stands Emma Frost -- ice cold and untouchable, as always -- and a young mutant who looks far out of his depth.
Emma has her hand on the his shoulder. When Illyana swings her sword back on her shoulder and turns to give Emma a nod, she releases him. He makes a beeline across the lawn, towards where Ororo and Kitty are standing.
He stops in front of them and holds out his hand. “I’m Christopher,” he says. His voice only wavers a little. “I think I heal people.”
“Nice to meet you, Christopher,” says Kitty, shaking his hand. “I’m Kitty Pryde. I’m going to be one of your teachers.”
“And I am Ororo, your headmaster.” Ororo tries to smile at him. Then she glances at Kitty. “Take him inside to get settled, please?”
“Of course,” says Kitty. She throws a thumb towards the school building. “After you, kiddo.”
Christopher turns and heads for the building, clearly ready to find a bed. Kitty hesitates -- from across the lawn, she meets Illyana’s eye and nods, quickly. Next to Emma, Illyana’s body language relaxes. She gives Kitty a distant half-salute with her free hand.
“Good luck,” Kitty tells Ororo quietly. Then she’s gone, following Christopher into the school.
Ororo waits until they’re inside, then crosses the lawn towards Emma and Illyana. It’s late at night -- the time was chosen specifically so that kids wouldn’t be watching them from the windows. But she still finds herself grateful for Emma’s ability to shield them from perception. “Thank you for coming all this way,” she says. “We could’ve sent Kurt.”
Emma snorts. “What, and have him spend all night crossing the country? Better to save everyone the trouble.” She glances at Illyana. “Give us a few minutes, will you?”
Illyana nods at Ororo. “Good to see you, headmaster.”
Then she’s gone, the circular flash of light a familiar sight.
Emma levels a signature flat stare at Ororo. “What is it, then?”
There’s no point in talking around your feelings around a telepath. “Survivor’s guilt.”
“Seriously?” Emma asks. Ororo gives her an embarrassed look. Emma says, “If you think I cannot handle the world thinking I’m a villain when my entire time at this school was colored by--”
“I’m not worried about you,” Ororo interrupts. Not quite true, but Emma wouldn’t accept anything else. “You’ve always been happy to take on the world alone.”
Emma meets her eye. They both know half of what Emma says is bluster. Emma says, “It’s Scott, then.”
Ororo shuts her eyes.
“Scott isn’t a fool,” says Emma, gently. She waits until Ororo looks at her again. “He makes his own choices, always. He knew what he was getting into just as much as you and I did.”
“Did we?” asks Ororo. “The other day, Victor asked me when they’ll begin training to fight against a combatant with percussive eye-rays.”
“If Mr. Borkowski used the word ‘percussive’, I will come back solely to give him extra credit on last year’s final paper,” says Emma, who was the Institute’s English teacher for ten years.
“--not in so many words,” Ororo admits. “He asked what the plan was if Scott ever attacked the school.”
“Well,” says Emma. “There should be a plan.”
Ororo says, “And he called him Cyclops.” She exhales. “I don’t know why that in particular hit me so hard. For the goddess’ sake-- Anole uses his own mutant name most of the time.”
“Students with visible mutations tend to feel more connected to their mutant names,” says Emma calmly, like this is a staff meeting two years ago. “And a school that teaches combat produces students who are more comfortable when they’re combat-ready.”
“Emma,” says Ororo, quietly. “Please don’t pretend that this doesn’t mean anything.”
Emma pulls at her cape so it covers her shoulders. “It means something,” she says. “Scott has always wanted to protect mutant children. I’ve been dreaming his nightmares for eight years -- I know how badly he cares about their safety.” She pauses. “But he’s not doing this for nothing. We’re not doing this for nothing.”
Ororo doesn’t say anything.
Emma puts her hand on Ororo’s shoulder -- the physical contact a rarity from her -- and says, “Your plan is working. Public opinion is in a good place. Don’t regret that for people as insignificant as the former faculty of one school. Don’t worry about us.”
Ororo puts her hand over Emma’s. “I know,” she says. “But I just-- I can’t help doubting.”
Emma gives her a bloodless smile. “Well, that’s a comfort,” she says. “You and Scott still have something in common.”
Scott comes into her office one day, closes the door. “Do you have a minute?”
Ororo’s spent the last three hours trying to get the New York Board of Education to agree to advance notice before they come for an inspection. “Yes,” she says, fervently.
Scott hands her a newspaper. The headline reads, Mutant protections signed into law by president. Underneath is a picture of the president shaking hands with Hank in the Oval Office.
“I saw this this morning,” she says, confused. She looks at Scott, who looks grave. “Is there a problem with the article?”
“No,” says Scott. “The article is nothing but glowing. The picture is nothing but glowing. The legal protections that we’ve achieved with this bill are far past anything Charles would’ve even dreamed of.”
Ororo is beginning to understand. She looks down at the picture again -- Hank, beaming from ear to ear. The president, looking completely unconcerned to have a giant blue man in the Oval Office. The crowd, all cheering.
She feels a little sick. “Scott, was anyone opposed to this bill?”
Scott shakes his head.
Ororo says, “Well, that’s not good.”
It’s been a good few years to be a mutant. Relatively calm, after all of the turmoil of the aughts. The staff of the school have used this time to push for more protections. Legally, socially, politically. One of their graduates is pitching a tv show with a mutant main character to the Disney Channel.
There’s been relatively little pushback, which is especially notable given their decades of fighting. The X-Men have had a quiet few years, too. Most of their time is spent teamed up with the Avengers, dealing with normal disasters. The kinds of things that all superheroes help with.
“We’re succeeding,” says Ororo, with faint horror.
“We’re succeeding,” repeats Scott, grimly. “Logan thinks it’s still leftover pity from M Day.”
Ororo says, “That won’t last.” She looks at the newspaper again, thinks about the X-Men fighting side-by-side with the Avengers. “Scott, what happens when they realize we’re succeeding?”
“What happens when people see this headline and realize the mutants aren’t in danger anymore?” Scott raises his eyebrows. “I’m going to guess that people will start to get suspicious.”
“Yes,” says Ororo. “And there’s no-- Scott, people turn against the Avengers twice a year. The Avengers make mistakes.”
“We can’t afford to mess up like Tony Stark does,” says Scott. “The team knows that already.”
“Yes, but sometimes their ‘mistakes’ are something like taking down a Skrull who looks like everyone’s favorite politician,” hisses Ororo. “We can’t avoid those kinds of things. We can’t-- as soon as we get caught in one of those, people will realize what you’ve realized, and they’ll come for us.”
Scott sits down in one of her chairs. “You see the problem.”
Ororo looks at him. “This is ridiculous,” she says. “No one else has to worry about this. Reed Richards doesn’t lie awake at night thinking about something as-- as unpredictable as backlash.”
Scott doesn’t say anything about Franklin, but that’s only because he knows she hates people bringing up Franklin Richards as a way to win arguments. He just nods.
She thinks about it. The way the future will play out, if their past has taught them anything. The X-Men will mess up: something small, not even a real mistake. They’ll damage some public property. They’ll subdue someone with a good spin team. Either way, people will get suspicious. They’ll look around and ‘realize’ that mutants aren’t oppressed anymore. That no one’s ‘watching out’ to make sure that they aren’t infiltrating the government, or their schools, or anything else. That they’re not busy with anything, in the public eye -- nothing, that is, except shaking hands with the president in the Oval Office, which to suspicious eyes looks like a perfect overture to more nefarious activity. And then the backlash will start.
“We need something to do,” she realizes. “We need something to be doing, so that when people start to ask what the X-Men have been up to, we have an answer. A good answer, a foolproof answer, not something they can spin.”
Scott says, “It was easier when we had a Brotherhood of Evil Mutants to foil.”
Ororo starts to smile -- the joke isn’t funny, but she appreciates his effort. Then she realizes he isn’t joking.
“Scott--” she starts.
“Hm?”
“Scott.”
He glances at her, the same man she’s loved for so many years. He says, “We don’t have very many options. This one’s the easiest.”
Ororo stares at him, wordless.
He says, “The Professor would understand.”
“The Professor--” Ororo shakes her head, sharp. “I don’t care what the Professor would think. I care about you. What, are you going to be Erik? Make me your Xavier?”
Scott cracks a tired smile. “‘Cyclops was right.’”
“Don’t even-- goddess,” says Ororo, her voice breaking. She gestures, upset, at the desk and the papers on it, trying to encompass the entirety of their lives. “I can’t-- I don’t want to do this without you.”
From behind his visor, Scott is wearing the same expression. “I know,” he says. He takes her hand. “But...”
Ororo thinks about the alternative. “It’s the best we can do,” she says, defeated.
Scott says, “It’s what we can do.”
“Our fearless leader.” Ororo squeezes his hand, once, and lets go. “Who would you take?”
“Not many,” says Scott. His expression turns thoughtful. “Emma will refuse to stay. We’ll need transport -- I was thinking about asking Illyana.”
“She’ll go,” says Ororo, absently, standing up to come around the desk towards him. How long has he been planning this? “Logan will want to go too.”
Scott says, “I’ll tell him to stay.”
Ororo can’t speak for a moment, overwhelmed with gratitude and frustration and, above all, understanding. Finally, she says, “You’re a good man, Scott Summers.”
Scott’s expression is a familiar one. “I’m just cautious,” he says. “And I’m leaving you behind.”
Ororo tilts her head at him. He looks back at her, steadily. On impulse, she leans down and kisses him. When she pulls back his eyes are still closed.
“I’ll forgive you one day,” she tells him. “Are you sure about this?”
Scott opens his eyes, chuckling self-deprecatingly. “Ororo,” he says, “who do you think you’re talking to?”
The next time they track Scott down, he’s attacking the Hellfire Academy.
“The Hellfire students are away,” says Glob, when Ororo passes him on the Blackbird. He looks lost. “They took them out camping this week. Headmaster--”
“He knew that,” says Idie. “Right?”
Quentin Quire pops his gum. “I think he didn’t know,” he says. “I think he’s here to punch some sense into those Hellfire snobs.”
“That’s enough, thanks, Quentin,” calls Kitty. Over the kids’ heads, she meets Ororo’s eyes. “What’s the plan, headmaster?”
Ororo yields to Logan. Logan says something that’s probably tactical and well thought-out -- frankly, she’s not paying attention.
They get to the school. They go, in formation, following Logan and Kitty’s coordinated hand gestures. Ororo is charged with holding the perimeter -- and that’s when she sees him.
Scott is wearing a full-face mask with a red X down the middle. He looks like Senator Kelly’s worst ideas of what mutants get up to in their free time. She can tell the second he spots her -- he drops the defensive posture and stands up straight. His arms relax.
There’s no one in this area of the grounds, as far as Ororo knows. She says, “Cyclops.”
“Storm.”
She doesn’t let her face show any softening. “We will stop you,” she says. “You know that just as well as I do.”
He doesn’t move. She can’t read his expression under the full-face mask. “We’ll have to see about that.”
Ororo, through great effort, doesn’t reach for him. “Are you sure?”
Scott cocks his head at her. She knows he’s heard the question she didn’t ask. “Storm,” he says. “You know me better than that.”