Cinders

by Phil Hartman

Damnit. I hate marble. It's like the gaudiest rock there is ...

Warren would say it was fitting. He never has any taste, not even in headstones.

Why did I come back ? To you ? To this place ?

Because reality can't be denied.

(Franklin Richards notwithstanding - that's a joke.)

No, SHE isn't here. She's no doubt off on some corner of the astral plane - I hope she's found some peace.

But no, Rachel won't be reborn here.

Like you, she's moved on.

It still aches. It probably will for the rest of my life. But Nathan and Ororo and Kitty and Logan are right.

... no, I didn't say hello to Charles. He's afraid to talk to me. I'm not going to lunge at him; you threw yourself at Apocalypse.

(That's no excuse.)

You were my other half, Scott. It's just so DAMN UNFAIR ...

Especially when we finally moved past all the angst. We just didn't know it then. And now you'll never know our children.

Two boys and a girl; I'm six months along.

Your last shot was your finest, darling. And our children will know that.

(OK, maybe not all the details. At least, not until they're much older ...)

Logan keeps trying to convince me the boys will need a strong male role model.

(Hell-OOOO ! Does the name Nathan Dayspring Askani'son ring a bell ?)

I've already slipped him Elektra's phone number. He's always been there for me, but I can survive without a man.

Besides, when I've got two more on the way, why do I need some large, sweaty, breadwinning ...

To fill that oversized bed in the Anchorage woods. To make your face go away over time.

Like that'll happen.

Sleep, my love. I'll see you someday. And our children will know their father, in memory and in tale.

For now, I have my pain, and my ashes.

My cinders.

Farewell.

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