Charlotte Xavier - A Thousand Years

Funeral

"She may be gone but her teachings live on in through us: her students. Wherever we may go, we must carry on her vision and that's a vision of a world united." Storm says.

...

Once the rest of the funeral attendees left the graveside, a lone man—weathered, aggrieved face hidden by his hat—stood before the headstone.

He had waited patiently for the twins to leave. The pair were too wrapped up in their grief to notice their father behind them, waiting to see the grave himself.

'Not even truly a grave.' Erik thought numbly. A memorial, perhaps, but not a grave. There was nothing left to bury. Nothing remained of her but the wheelchair.

Erik Lehnsherr knelt in the dirt before the gravestone.

Charlotte Xavier

Mother. Teacher. Leader.

Above those words was her profile carved into a metal circle, set into the stone of the marker. It was a good profile of Charlotte—her gentle features, the knowing slant of her eyes, the welcoming quirk of her lips.

Mourners and students had left a small pile of various roses at the foot of the stone beside the small flame that flickered on in the breeze.

The marker itself was in one of Charlotte's favorite gardens or so it had been so many years ago, before Cuba. It was the same that their daughter was buried in, now beside her mother's headstone. In fact, not far behind was the very spot where she had found that lost memory of Erik's mother...where he had moved the now-gone satellite...where she had told him. "There is so much more to you than you know"...where she had first kissed him...

Erik was certain that was where he had fallen for Charlotte, if it wasn't when she had dived into the ocean after him.

And somehow, Charlotte had always loved Erik. After all he had done—the killing, the attacks, the anti-human violence and plots—she had loved him still. After all he had done to her, she had forgiven him: after Cuba, after leaving her, after paralyzing her, after fighting on the opposite side of a war from her, after betraying her, after hurting her, after letting her die right in front of him...she had always forgiven and loved him despite it. He had always tried to protect her, but he only seemed to end up hurting her instead.

Charlotte's words, too fresh, too raw, too painful, echoed in Erik's mind from an argument. "All you've ever done—all you ever do—is hurt me! It's like every time you touch me...something breaks." She had said it in anger, but truth rang through her ire.

Erik blinked away the tears.

Reverently, Erik's fingers traced over the letters of her name before he set his sights upon the metal inset in the stone.

When Erik stood, he studied his work for a moment before brushing his fingers atop the stone. "I've lost you twice now. Once on a beach in Cuba when I shot you and left. And now..." He faltered as his voice cracked.

"You weren't supposed to be the one to die first of the two of us." Erik said softly. "I was supposed to be the one who died in the ceaseless war...but it's never been that way, has it? Not in Cuba, certainly not now.

"Verdammt, Charlotte." Erik cursed vehemently, nearly falling to his knees in the grass. "You weren't supposed to die at all. Not before our dreams of mutant success were reality, not before our children were grown and starting families of their own...Not in the least before I could actually tell you I loved you." He finished softly.

With a long last look at the stone, Erik turned and left the garden.

...

With the school in a state of mourning, the students were out of class but were all quiet and withdrawn at the lost of their Professor. They seemed preoccupied with their contemplations or tears and, either way, no one seemed to notice the unfamiliar visitor walked through the halls to her office.