A Midnight Clear
by
Zerelda X
X-Men belong to Marvel. No quibbles from me. I'm borrowing them for entertainment purposes only. ::grin:: That sounds so bad, considering what I do write in my spare time.
Charlotte and Thomas Ascroft, that odd mother/son duo, and Matthew Brouwer, sidekick extraordinaire, belong to me. As does Delaney Bennet, Del for short. They're really not bad people, just a little century-confused sometimes.
There had to be a Christmas story; and, so far I've written these two in just about every other facet of their lives, it's probably time I actually get them married.
Charlotte stared out the window in the room adjacent to hers, Thomas sleeping in the bed close by. The moonlight streamed through the window to touch her face, silvering her hair and skin. It wasn't hard for Matthew to imagine she was a ghost, the Quapoan deathwatch in progress.
Thomas would live, but no one could tell it from Charlotte's face. She still behaved as though he would slip away without her there to ward off Ililla. The knife on her hip was symbolic of her determination to ward off any and all threats to her child, and she was fully capable of using it, even against one she considered an almost son.
From the doorway, he took a deep breath and crossed the threshold. He moved quietly for a large man, but not quietly enough. Her attention was drawn away immediately, her face turning toward him blindly.
"It's Christmas Eve," he reminded her.
It didn't make an impression on her numbed mental state. She stared at him blankly. "What?"
"The eve night?"
"Oh." She moved to the bedside. "I don't have time," she murmured, running gentle fingers over her son's cheek and stroking his rich black hair from his forehead. The strands of silver grew more numerous every year. Why she hadn't seen this before? He was aging before her eyes, dying a little more every day just like all the rest.
"Make time. You've gone out every year I've known you to listen to the star song."
Thomas stirred. "Wha...?" he muttered irritably, although he knew the presence next to him. She was the one true constant in his life. If she hadn't been here, he would have been sure he was dead.
"Shh," she soothed him. "It's all right."
"Come on," Matthew tugged at her arm. "I'll stay with him. Logan is waiting for you."
Thomas struggled to sit up, his head begging to give in to the darkness that swirled around him. Hank told him the headaches would persist indefinitely. Joy. "What is it?" If he could just get Charlotte to stop worrying about him, life could get back to normal.
"I'm trying to send her outside. It's Christmas Eve," Matthew explained.
After a few deep breaths to calm the dizziness, Thomas covered her hand where it rested on his shoulder. "Go. I'll be fine." ~Please.~
"But..."
"No buts, impichi, go on."
They were defeating her, both of them, and she resented them for it. "If you're sure you won't need me," she said, giving in with very little good grace.
"Logan hasn't seen much of you the last few days," Matthew pointed out. "You need some fresh air. You look terrible."
"I don't need you hanging over me like the Shadow of Death," Thomas said, a touch exasperated. He softened at the stricken look on her face. "Stop playing Mom and go play Charlotte for awhile."
"I'm putting coal in your stockings," she muttered, allowing herself to be ushered out.
Logan waited outside the bedroom door, her parka, gloves and scarf in hand. He'd already received instructions from Matthew on what to do and had dressed for the trip out in the freezing weather. "Hi, darlin'," he said softly.
"Hi," Charlotte answered. She realized Matthew was right, she hadn't seen Logan since they'd brought Thomas to the mansion at Hank's insistence. She didn't realize how much she'd missed him until this moment.
He helped her on with her coat, then waited patiently while she tugged on her gloves and scarf. After adjusting the scarf around her face, he took her hand to lead the way downstairs and out the back door.
In silence, he guided her up the hill behind the mansion to the clearing at the top.
From that vantage point they had a view of the velvety night sky, white sparkles of stars glittering against the black. The moon glowed, silvering the already blindingly white snow. With her back turned to the mansion, Charlotte could imagine they were the only two people on top of the world.
They stood in the cold without speaking, the night closing in around them.
Logan couldn't stand the silence any longer. For two days she hadn't said a word to him from the moment she struck him and demanded he leave her alone. He tried not to take it personally, tried to understand the stress she was under, but the continued silence from her made it hard. He was the one who gave out the silent treatment, not the other way around.
Matthew told him it was her way. Nathan tried to tell him that, too, but he didn't want to hear that, especially from *him.* He still stewed over finding the two of them in bed together, no matter how innocent it had been.
It was just how she reacted to upheavals she couldn't deal with any other way, Matthew explained to him more than once. He'd even said she wouldn't have hit him if she didn't care so much, which made no sense to him at all. She didn't hit Gumbo, and it was clear enough she thought of the Cajun as another son.
Would he ever know this woman enough to understand even the smallest part of her?
"Char-," he began in a hoarse whisper, his breath a silvery mist in the air between them. His voice rang out in the equivalent of a shout in the silence.
She hushed him, shaking her head slightly. Her eyes were closed, her expression indicating her level of concentration. The moonlight paled her skin, making him want to touch her to see if she was real or not. She looked cold, aloof, as elusive as the moonlight itself. Slipping away from his grasp. Gotta grab her quick before.....
~Do you hear it?~ she asked him.
Logan listened intently, straining to hear what it was that had her so enraptured.
Without opening her eyes, Charlotte reached for his hand, holding it tightly between her own, drawing him closer to her.
~Close your eyes,~ she instructed gently, ~open yourself to me.~
After a brief hesitation, he let his hard-earned mental barriers fall a bit only to find himself drawn into her, instead of the other way around. She hadn't invited him in since that first night in the library when she gave him the memories of their time together. This felt like coming home.
~Listen.~
A breeze flowed through the trees as thick as satin, its touch an almost tangible presence, wrapping snugly around their still forms. The trees whispered back, evergreens rustling, bare branches protesting more vehemently against the caress. The silence of the night stretched on, neither sad nor empty, a waiting quiet. He faintly heard the clear, pale tones of the stars echoing around them.
Logan experienced the night as she did, all the wonder and magic she found in the old traditions she still kept over the centuries. She shared something precious to her with him.
~My mother would take me out to listen to the stars~ she 'whispered' to him. ~They were so much more brilliant, the night sky alive with thousands upon thousands stars. You could see the Milky Way then. The star music was so easy to hear. It was my first lullaby.~
He pulled her closer still to wrap his arms around her as tightly as their thick clothing would allow.
Charlotte went to him willingly, resting her head against his. Letting him into her mind was risky, the feel of him inside too comforting to be depended on, but she wanted, needed, to share this moment of renewal with him.
"Marry me."
Charlotte didn't answer, she wasn't listening. Her attention was caught up in the star music and the warmth of his soul; her forehead pressed to his, her eyes closed to the outside world.
"Charlotte," he whispered against her cold lips.
"Hmm?"
"Marry me," he repeated.
Her eyes opened slowly to look into his. "Why?"
Logan wasn't expecting that answer. "Whaddaya mean?"
She tried to pull away, but he held her fast. She closed her eyes to him instead. "Why would you want to marry me?"
"I don't want to lose ya." He didn't want her out of his sight, depending on anyone else but him. That he wasn't always the most dependable kind didn't cross his mind.
"I'm here right now," she said softly. "This is as permanent as it gets. I don't need a ceremony to stay with you, if this is what we both want."
"Marryin's a promise you'll be here even if things don't go right."
"My word's not good enough?" Her mouth twisted in a wry smile at his reasoning. "That's still no guarantee."
"I want everyone to know you belong to me."
"Wouldn't it be simpler to just brand me?"
Logan felt the faint humor in her and hope rose. "Mebbe just a little one," he smiled, tracing a finger across her cheek. "Right here."
Charlotte chuckled. "A little blatant, don't you think?"
Stripping off a glove, he reached into his shirt pocket. "Mebbe this." He withdrew a small box and set it in the palm of her hand.
Her hand closed over it reflexively. "Logan...."
A finger pressed against her lips to stop her words. "Don't answer me just yet, Char. I can wait, mebbe even an hour."
~*~*~*~*~
Thomas stood at the window leaning on the sill, watching his mother and Logan on the hilltop. A slow smile crossed his face. He was supposed to be in bed, but he had to see if she would unbend long enough to enjoy the night with Logan.
A knock on the door drew him to a chair to sink into it, his legs feeling weak. He didn't know how long he'd feel this way, but he supposed it was better than what might have been. "Come in."
Del poked her head around the door. "If you're busy I can come back," she said hesitantly. She still wasn't sure how to deal with him, or even what to call him yet, but she wasn't giving this up. He had the answers to all her questions, whether she wanted to hear them or not.
"I'm not busy," he assured her. This was another issue he was having a problem dealing with, but he didn't have a choice with a new found daughter. She was his child, that he had no doubt of, inspite of Hank's assurances.
"What are you doing out of bed? Dr. McCoy would be very unhappy about that, not to mention your mother."
"How did you know I was out of bed?"
"I have ears, I heard you move around." She leaned against the door.
"Are you going to tattle on me?"
She grimaced. "It would be a bit counterproductive, don't you think? I want you to like me, yet I want your mother to accept me. Opening my mouth would alienate someone around here."
"Charlotte's already accepted you, otherwise you wouldn't still be here," he told her.
"And you?"
"Sit down," he gestured to the other chair.
Was what he had to say so bad she had to sit for it?
He waited a long moment, trying to gather his thoughts in coherent order. "I don't remember who your mother was. I wish I did. I wish I'd known about you long before this."
Del motioned him to be quiet, then they heard footsteps pass by the door.
He glanced at her inquiringly.
"Charlotte and the other man, the grumpy little one."
"That grumpy little man is her bondmate, not that you'd know from the way she's been acting. How did you know it was them?"
Del glanced away for a moment, then looked him in the eye. "I'm a mutant, an empath."
Thomas smiled at her expression. "If you haven't noticed yet, this place is filled with mutants."
"Yeah, the Muppet in the basement was a dead giveaway." Del breathed easier. Her new-found father didn't care. In her experience with the Mutant Support League, the families of mutants were generally the worst when it came to discrimination. "I have questions, but they can wait until you're better."
"I can't promise the answers will be easy, but as soon as I get a clean bill from Hank, we'll have all the time in the world to talk, the three of us."
"She is really your mother?"
"She really is. I see I've got a lot to tell you."
Del smiled, his own mirrored back to him. "An entire lifetime's worth."
~*~*~*~*~
Back inside the mansion, after removing their coats and hanging them up, Charlotte took Logan's hand and led him to her bedroom. It was hard, but she managed not to look in on Thomas when they passed his door.
Logan followed her, noting how cold her hand was in comparison to the warmth he could still feel inside her. Warmth and nervousness. She was scared. Scared and trying hard not to be.
With an unsure smile, she dropped his hand and moved over to her bureau. Opening a drawer, she produced a wrapped gift.
"It's after midnight, the first night now, and I wanted to give you this in private," she whispered softly, feeling shy in his presence. Like a child expecting to be slapped back down, she offered him the box.
He took it from her, puzzling through another of her mood shifts, lifting back the hinged lid to reveal the raven medallion resting on a black velvet bed.
Charlotte took a deep breath. She was baring her soul to him, again, and it terrified her. This time he would remember.
Logan stared at it, his face unreadable.
She couldn't take it. She turned away, blinking back the tears.
He stopped her, his hand wrapping around her elbow, drawing her back to face him.
She refused to look at him. She could bear it if she didn't look at him.
She had to look. It was killing her not to look.
"Are ya gonna marry me or not? I don't have nothin' but me to offer, but I'll love ya an' be wi' ya for whatever time we got." He lifted her head to look in her eyes. His expression was tender, expectant.
"You don't have to marry me," she said quietly, her heart pounding double time. "I don't need a ceremony to stay with you."
"*I* need it. I want everyone to know ya belong to me." He took the small box back from her and removed the ring, slipping it on her finger, then kissed it.
Charlotte decided to chance a breath. Relief weakened her, tears welled up and trickled down her cheeks. She kissed him lightly, "yes," then hugged him with all her strength. "Yes." Over his shoulder she could see the diamond solitaire in a platinum setting, sparkling in the low light. He wanted her. She wrapped that knowledge in her heart to savor at her leisure.
"Soon, darlin', it'd better be soon." He swung her around, in a rare, playful gesture. Setting her down, he wiped the tears from her face with his fingers. "Don't cry. I want ya to be happy."
"I am." She reached for a tissue from the dresser to rub her eyes. "Will you wear the medallion?"
He took the pendant from the box and handed it to her. Slipping it over his head and adjusting it around his neck, Charlotte murmured the bonding spell, this time in the Quapoan language, pressing it into the skin over his heart.
"Is Tom gonna mind?" he asked her.
Charlotte shook her head. "He's been telling me for more than a half a century now that I'm lonely. I really hadn't noticed until you came back." She stroked the medallion reverently. "Too mystical for you?"
"Naw." He swung her up in his arms and carried her to bed. "As long as we're together, I don't care what rituals ya use."
~*~*~*~*~
Much later, while they laid entwined under the comforters, Charlotte propped herself up on one elbow to look in Logan's face.
"After all, who else would put up with you?" she asked, a teasing light in her eyes.
Logan stopped rubbing her back. "Hey!"
She only smiled wider and brushed her fingertips along his bristly cheek. "I am ready to put up with you for as long as you want me," she whispered.
"That long?" he asked.
She nodded, a solemn expression crossing her face. "That long."
He gathered her closer to him, one large hand sliding into her hair to hold her securely against his chest. "Then ya better be ready for the long haul, darlin', 'cause I don't see me ever lettin' ya get away."
"Good," she said with a small sigh, burrowing into his skin, a delicious feeling of completeness washing over her. "I'd hate for the guy I love to get tired of me too quick. Maybe after 60-70 years."
"Not a chance."
Charlotte kissed his shoulder, then closed her eyes. "I don't see how I could bear to let you go again."
"That a fact?" he asked, his voice rumbling beneath her ear.
"Yeah," she murmured a bit sleepily. "Don't forget, I knocked you on your butt once, and I can do it again."
Logan chuckled and kissed the top of her head as his hands traced warm trails over her shoulders and back. "You got me shakin' now, darlin'."
"Not yet, I don't," a hint of faint mischief colored her voice, offering promises for the years to come. "But give me a few minutes to rest up, and I'll see what I can do."
Ilillia -- Death.
Impichi -- Mother.
All references to characters belonging to the X-Men Universe are (c) and TM the Marvel Comics Group, 20th Century Fox and all related entities. All rights reserved. Any reproduction, duplication or distribution of these materials in any form is expressly prohibited. No money is being made from this archive. All images are also (c) and TM the Marvel Comics Group, 20th Century Fox and all related entities; they are not mine. This website, its operators and any content used on this site relating to the X-Men are not authorized by Marvel, Fox, etc. I am not, nor do I claim to be affiliated with any of these entities in any way.