THE ILLUSIONIST WOMAN

eight. The Wind Blows

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THE WIND BLEW ITS REPETITIVE CARESSES. It was comforting in the moment Ximena needed it most. It twirled the fallen leaves in a wistful late autumn dance. It rustled the dark chocolate strands of her hair against her cheek like a maternal kiss. But what Ximena knew is that the wind wasn't just a natural act of God.

It was a hollow feeling. A lonely sign of the times. A realization of the changing seasons. The old was passing away and the new was just arriving. It had been a week since Stryker. A week since Jean... and Ximena wasn't ready for new. She was terrified, but it seemed she was always terrified these days.

Scared of the unpredictable, of all perishable things. One of those just so happened to be life itself.

Ximena knew eventually that she would be alone one day. She never aged anymore; it was inevitable. However, she always hoped and prayed her friends wouldn't be taken from her in an untimely way, before their rightful time.

She didn't care what anyone had to say, Jean sacrificing herself wasn't her rightful time. Her gut knew it, whether she was in denial or simply headstrong - she did not fully comprehend. Ximena just knew her chest hurt like a cavity had been drilled out and left to drain.

The Illusionist woman was adorned in black. A color she didn't typically wear often, but one she would wear as she honored Jean's life. Ximena stood on the marsh of the graveyard with the rest of her fellow mutants who knew and loved Jean just as she did.

The sky wasn't crying for her fallen friend, it too had betrayed Ximena. The clouds were bright with the sun's rays. The trees were various shades of burning red and vibrant orange, flying around without hurry. The lake which stretched on from afar rippled with noisy ducks, tadpoles and other prevailing things. A perfect late autumn day. It seemed as if everything insisted on moving on in spite of what Ximena was feeling inside. 

She was a stagnant rock in a babbling brook, collecting algae, stray vines and tripping up imaginative wanderers with its stubbornness. Ximena's mood was unwanted, yet necessary.

Logan stood beside Ximena in an aggressive silence. Lips pulled tight in a seemingly permanent grimace. His black shirt and dark washed jeans, with its rips and immovable stains, were all he really had that made sense for today. It was probably the first time he truly cared about what he was wearing. It was probably the one aspect of this day that he could control.

He wasn't an emotionally available person, but for Ximena, knowing she'd need him most on this day and all days after, motivated him to try. Even if she was irritable and didn't necessarily want his company, he would stand by her side. He promised her he was serious, and this was him putting his words to action.

His arm was loosely wrapped around her waist. His thumb rubbing over the fleece material of her dress. Logan could tell she was trying not to shed tears. Her nostrils flared every so often. The sightline of her brown eyes drifted to the clear sky every other minute, and the tension in which she held her note cards fluctuated.

Logan didn't know if she wanted him to address her obvious signs of distress or act like they aren't happening. He had never experienced Ximena in mourning.

It was explosive and unexpected.

One day she would be unresponsive and stoic, going through the day with little reaction. But in the night, all those emotions of which she kept at bay would attack her violently. Her sobbing kept him up at night no matter how much she tried to hide it. Every time, he'd roll over towards her side of the bed and embrace her silently. He never got a response from her, just more painful inhales until she drifted to sleep.

Other days, she was most intensely angry. Not aggressively towards others, but at herself. She would spend the day running for miles without stopping, pushing to her absolute limits. Logan knew Ximena was practically unaging, but that didn't mean she was invincible. Her body had its limits, and he would have to meet her a few miles from the school by car and carry her back due to overexertion.

It concerned him, her grief. It was so all-consuming.

Scott wasn't much better off.

"... Jean looked out for us all. She and her love, will be missed." Professor Xaiver finished his eulogy with a somber end. He rolled his chair beside Jean's empty casket and placed a gentle hand on it, his face although not obviously expressive, spoke volumes. He, along with everyone was saddened.

Ororo squeezed Ximena's leather clad shoulder from behind to get her attention. Dominguez blearily blinked away from the natural elements to the present. An exasperated sigh shuddered past her lips as her grip tightened on the note cards between her fingertips.

"You can do it, honey." Storm murmured in a soft tone. Her intentions to encourage Ximena to walk up the makeshift stage to say her few words. "We've got ya."

Ximena's jaw trembled only minutely before she swallowed tight. A lump remained in her throat no matter how many times she tried to push it down. The universal bodily reaction to holding tears at bay when you really wanted to openly sob.

She glanced to Logan for a reason she couldn't quite place. Maybe it was for strength, or reassurance that she could leave any moment she wanted to. Either way, the intensive stare in his hazel eyes gave her exactly what she needed.

"Okay," Ximena whispered with a hesitant nod.

On the way, she passed by Scott. His black sunglasses shielded his eyes from sight, but his tension filled face, dotted with wet stripes gave away his emotions. Ximena squeezed his hand shortly before she walked up the two steps to the platform.

Her hands were lined with sweat. She wanted to do right by Jean, whether it be by reading these words she fought over for a whole week when writing them or, to speak from the heart. Such a vital organ thumped unevenly in her chest, weighing her down and making her sluggish. It was as if every second that went by was actually an hour. All time seemed to slow as she was being watched from above. The podium provided little armor for her bleeding heart.

Licking her lips, Ximena curled her hair behind her ear. Cocoa eyes ghosting over the pearlized white of Jean's casket. It was covered in vibrant flowers, filled with things that reminded the crew of her. But Ximena couldn't shake the fact that it was empty, missing its inhabitant.

Finally, Ximena looked towards her friends and students. Hank was able to fly in from Washington. Bobby comforted Marie as she set her gaze down to the damp ground below. Ororo took to consoling Scott, holding hands in a way Jean would most definitely admire. Kurt, the new friend they met along this mission from hell, hung back, signing the cross, praying lowly with wistful eyes. It was in the company of her loved ones that she decided to flip the note cards over to its blank side, resolute on speaking naturally.

"If there was one thing about Jean, it was that she was optimistic. She had a hope, a desire that one day mutants and humans would reconcile their differences and unite together for the better. She saw the best in everyone and she," Ximena choked on her words, growing emotional as she bit her bottom lip. "She only wanted to make everyone proud of her, to be dependable, to be... needed. What she didn't realize is that we did need her, and we still do. To love, to laugh, to teach us even now, especially now."

Ximena wiped at her cheek, sniffling as she sent Scott a melancholy smile. "Love exists beyond time and like it, our love for Jean will never end."

She took out the gold-plated name tag of Jean's from her presentation at the Senate meeting. It not only held her name, but it represented what she stood for. What Jean fought for - equality. Ximena set it on the casket and stamped it in with her fist. If Jean wasn't in there at least her essence would be.

When the service finally ended, and the casket was lowered into the ground, Ximena and Logan found themselves by a great Norway maple tree. Its branches stretched wide, and it was hypnotizingly colorful, casting them in a warm hue from the sun.

Logan stood before her, probably the proudest he had ever been about anyone. The feeling was new for him and shockingly intimate. He gazed at her with a serene admiration, completely different from his usual fervent expressions. It was a passionate display in the most un-Logan way he could imagine.

As she leaned against the tree, hair rustling in the breeze, he found himself falling deeper and deeper. "Alright?" he spoke in his lower register, reaching his large hand out to brush a few strands from her damp, heart shaped face.

Ximena shook her head, eyebrows furrowing intently. "No, it's just..."

"What's up?"

"It's just this feeling I have and," She glanced up at him from her feet, staring between his hazel eyes as they glowed in the warm sun. "It feels like Jean. I don't know how to explain it. I don't know - my powers have been acting weird ever since I 'woke up,' maybe this is another hitch."

Logan's rough, warm hand grasped her own, pulling it to his chest. The rhythm of his heartbeat drew her one step closer to sanity, just like during her episodes in the night. "Hey, we all miss Jean. Just take it one day at a time, alright?"

"Y-yea, yea." She nodded, averting her gaze to nature once more. The wind caressing her damp cheek again. A shiver went down her spine, yet it didn't make her uncomfortable or set her on edge, quite the opposite. That feeling of Jean from before stayed with her as Professor Xavier rolled up to them.

He lightly cleared his throat, gathering their attention. Their moment appeared incredibly intimate from the outside looking in. A consoling conversation between lovers against the sunset backdrop of the New York estate. Xavier's face was sympathetic yet serious all the same. A concept in his mind no one could predict.

"Doc," Logan nodded, partially turning to face him.

"My apologies for the interruption, but if I could have a moment of Ximena's time."

Mena shared meaningful eye contact with Logan. An expression of solidarity passing over her soft features. When he believed she would be okay, he left them to their devices.

Running a hand through her thick hair, she sighed with exhaustion. She felt so out of sorts. Ximena was usually the one to crack jokes in the midst of un-comfortability, but right now she felt humorless. It was a revisit to her long mourning of Daniel. Hopefully, it won't be as bad or as long.

"I know... this has been very challenging for you. Your relationship with Jean, save for Scott's, was the strongest. I am sorry for your loss." He leant back in his chair, fingertips to his thinned lips with considerable sorrow and compassion. "You know, even when Jean was a student, she was always hesitant about her powers. Always looking to others... feeling that, in some way she was left behind."

"I believe you finally helped her feel like she belonged somewhere."

"...She was my best friend. My soulmate," Ximena said. Turning her eyes up to the clouds, her nostrils flared like they usually did as she tried to stop the tears from flowing. Her teeth grinded together and yet the salty fluids fell with gravity. Her rushed hands wiped at her chapped skin for what seemed like the millionth time today. It was frustrating. "Do you- do you think we could've done anything, anything at all to save her?"

The Professor turned wistful. "In the past... she may have let us. But she made a choice... and I am in need of you to make one of your own."

Ximena furrowed her brows in question, crossing her arms over her chest somewhat defensively. "What kind of choice, Professor?"

He seemed apprehensive. "Jean's sacrifice has presented an absence in the role she held in the board. As you said in your eulogy, Jean was an active part in legislation, advocated for mutants who couldn't stand for themselves, and I believe you feel just as passionate about the cause as she did."

Almost immediately, Mena started shaking her head. An objection on the tip of her tongue. "I'm not a public speaker, even when Jean was up there, I never once wished to be in her place."

"You attend every meeting. You know the system."

"They'll see me and instantly shut down." She raised her arm and matter-a-factly pointed towards the tan color of her skin.

"My dear, that is precisely why you should do it. But I think, working more closely with the President. I believe we need a stronger voice in our corner."

"No one can replace Jean," She muttered in a ghost of a whisper.

"Yes, no one can and yet, someone must carry-on her legacy. The real question is, will that be you or someone else, potentially less suited?"

Xavier left her with those words, the sweeping trees and the familiar wind to think. It wrapped around her like a tender embrace, stealing her breath and cooling her flushed cheeks.

When Daniel died and she awoke with no one but her guilt, Ximena made it her mission to save all those who could be helped. Dedicated her second chance at humanity to being the compassion and patience she felt she had failed to show Daniel.

Now that Jean was gone, she realized her goals had not changed, only deepened. They had broadened and grown impossibly fierce and tangible. Her heartbeat faster for the lonely and oppressed. Jean's demons had slipped through her fingers and stolen her friend. Maybe that didn't have to be the end of Jean.

It was possible that Daniel and Jean's stories could live on in her. Their lives wouldn't be for naught and yet, she was still hesitant.

When the wind had finally left her alone, stale and stagnant once again, Ximena began to feel the chill in the air. She stared one last time at the fresh grave where Jean's casket was buried. The flowers and trinkets arranged in an honoring way. Mena sucked in a deep resonating breath, feeling the rattling in her rib cage. A piece of her broken heart knocking around in there. Only for a second more did she stay, before she walked back towards the school to turn in for the evening.

Classes had been cancelled for the entire week they had been back from the mission. Professor allowed everyone time to mourn, but schedule would be back on track next week. Ximena didn't necessarily feel like mentoring and art wasn't incredibly important for childhood development. However, she knew the liberty in putting your emotions on a page. There was power in that. Being vulnerable if not to a person, but a canvas for anyone to see.

Expressionism could help her, and her students mourn.

So, she spent the rest of the evening tidying up her classroom for the following week. By the time she had finished, the sun had long disappeared. Daylight savings caused the days to be shorter.

Sweat lined her brow as she tied her hair up in a bun a top her head. A few strands falling down messily, sticking to the side of her face. Her black dress was dotted with paint and dust from dried clay, but she didn't really mind it. Ximena was used to getting dirty in her classroom. If anything, the familiarity made her feel that much more humane.

Logan was walking out of the shower when Ximena came into their shared bedroom. Well, it was originally hers, but Logan hadn't left her side since Jean.

His presence was a remedy for the emptiness she felt. She hadn't really told him how much she appreciated him staying by her or voiced her thanks. Truth be told, she wasn't a very affectionate lover at the moment, reasonably so. She sometimes wondered why he really stuck around, especially when she was having one her low days.

Her heart fluttered at the loyalty as she briefly glanced at him by the dresser. His back was freshly dried. Some wet spots stubbornly lingered along his spine. The muscles flexed as he took out a pair of boxers.

With a fragility Ximena couldn't explain, she padded up behind him silently and gently laid her temple on his bare back. Her soft hands wrapped around him from behind. Fingertips touching his hair riddled, muscular chest. A sigh, that could only be characterized as the feeling of home, slipped from her plush lips. Full of exhaustion.

Logan murmured low at her embrace, acknowledging her presence. His rough, heated hands grazed her own.

She loved the feel of his pulse against her cheek. It made her sleepy, causing her clumped lashes to flutter. Sniffles could be heard in the quiet of the room.

"Tired?" He questioned, to which she hummed.

"I need to shower," Her voice lowered to a whisper in the serenity that was their moment. Some peace in the recent chaos.

Logan turned over his shoulder and pressed a chaste kiss to the side of her head. Her head suddenly jerked back as she scrunched her nose. "Did you just sniff me?"

"Smell alright to me." He joked, to which she pushed him playfully. It was probably the first time she smiled in amusement since Jean died. A short burst of light erupted in her chest, one she wanted to savor for however long she had it.

"Down fido, before I get you spaded." He chuckled, throwing his towel at her head as he pulled on a pair of boxers. "You're insufferable, dios mío."

When Mena stepped out of the bathroom with one of Logan's shirts thrown on haphazardly, the lights were turned off in their bedroom. Her freshly washed and blow-dried tresses hung loosely with volume around her shoulders. Her face cleared of whatever makeup lasted through all her crying today.

Logan laid on the bed with his arms behind his head. His eyes were closed, but she knew he wasn't asleep yet. She slid in the cool cotton sheets and shivered. As if by habit or instinct, Logan reached across the bed and pulled her closer till she was practically under him. His heavy thigh laying on top of her own. Immediately the heat began to take hold of Ximena, she sighed comfortably, nuzzling her face near his.

She stared down the side of his unshaven face. Carefully outlined the shape of his chiseled jaw with her eyes as they adjusted to the darkness. After a while, when he figured she wasn't going to sleep, his hazel eye peaked open.

"Professor wants me to be our direct line to the president, y'know like Jean with Hank in Washington. Do all that legislative stuff."

He made a sound in the back of his throat akin to a groan, but it was less exasperated and filled with drowsiness. "You don't think you'd be a good fit?"

Mena shrugged matter-a-factly, curling her hand under the blanket on his chest. Her fingertips drawing imaginary lines along his scarred skin. Cocoa gaze lifted to hazel with a curious plight. "What do you think, James?"

He grunted, getting comfortable on the mattress as it creaked into the stillness of the night. Logan shook his head, thinking to himself as he subconsciously ran his fingers through her hair. "This is the same woman who sent me visions from another state just to make sure Rogue would be safe? Who told me to feed the damn girl, encouraged me to protect her?"

"That's different, she was a kid," She dismissed.

"And there are plenty more who need your guidance... your leadership and all that." He looked down at her with a confidence that exhilarated her. "All I know is I would've been lost without you, imagine how everybody else is."

His words made her twitch a glimpse of a smile. "I always wanted to hear you finally admit that I was right about Marie. Was only a matter of time." Her small smirk grew into a grin as Logan rolled over to be slightly above her. Resting on his arm till he had a bird's eye view of her soft feminine features blushed with a rosy hue in the moon light from their window.

Logan's gaze turned smoldering. A heated furnace of pure magnetism. Ximena paused in her gloating. Her fingertips slowing in their ministrations against the coarse hairs on his arm. She bit her bottom lip in suspense, practically holding her breath.

"You were right." Logan stated adamantly, looking surer than she's ever seen him. Her cheeks heated further.

"Really?"

He nodded once, "Yeah."

Ximena stared at him from below before breathlessly leaning up to capture his lips in a small bite of a kiss. It scalded him, kept him desiring for more. "That has got to be the sexiest thing you've ever said to me."

"Hm," He hummed, gratefully accepting another passionate brush. Her lips ghosted over his own, branding his soul with her delicate sounds. Enticing him with her unconditional affection.

Ximena slid her fingers into his dark tresses, clutching them desperately. Tying him to her rapidly beating heart and wanton frame. In a moment of catching, one's breath, Ximena parted her lips to say the three words that had been on the tip of her tongue since they came home from their long, backpacking excursion. She almost said them. Confessed the tender speech in a moment of ecstasy, but she reframed. Hesitated.

She was still hurting from Jean's death. Although, this untimely circumstance would usually make people want to rush into life with the realization of its fragility, Mena was gripped viciously with the fear of life's recklessness and unabandon.

Death played no favorites and savored very few.

Such a concept made her kiss Logan harder one last time before choosing to brush his fallen strands from his face to stall the moment. She curled her arm around him to fix him to her side once more and cuddled close enough to nudge their noses together.

Logan beheld her actions and without her saying anything, he knew exactly what she meant by them. His chest never hurt so much from his hearts pounding. He relaxed in the comfort of the bed with her being his other half. His arm covered her frame, protecting her for anything that dare to decide to separate them.

"I want you to know I appreciate you and... what you've done for me lately. Everything-just everything..." She felt the words wanting to vomit out of her mouth again, but she tapered off inside. Her lashes brushing the tops of her cheeks as she tried to keep her rushing emotions at bay.

"Go to sleep, Mena. You're tired." He murmured with a good-natured smile. The scratchiness of his jaw rubbing against her palm.

"I'll do it, the position, I mean," Ximena sighed sleepily, finally closing her eyes.

"That's my girl."

That made her smile and she realized; it was the first night since Jean died that she didn't cry herself to sleep.

...

A STORM WAS BREWING OUTSIDE. Ximena could see it from the window of the Presidential office. The President was in the middle of giving a live televised broadcast to the United States about the incident at Alkali Lake when Professor Xavier stilled the room.

She stood in between Marie and Logan, her rightful place as of late. The entire team was here. Her hair was tied in a low bun. Only a single strand out of place to frame her heart shaped face. Give herself enough fidgeting distraction while they stood and waited for the game to begin. 

The room was shrouded in darkness. The only source of light coming from the lightning strikes from outside. Thunder crashed and the chandelier hanging above them swayed from the vibrations. All of this was for show, persuasion and it was majority Storm's doing. Her grey eyes going eerily opaque. In her opinion, all of it was very theatrical and also, incredibly necessary.

"Good morning, Mr. President." Professor Xavier greeted with a friendly expression. A complete contrast to the stunt they were playing. The President startled, slowly standing from his chair in defense. "Please, don't be alarmed. We're not going to harm anyone."

"Who are you people?"

Xavier rolled forward, inclining his head towards the team. "We're mutants. My name is Charles Xavier. Please, sit down."

The President minutely shook his head. "I'd rather stand."

"Dr. Dominguez," Professor addressed Ximena, to which she stepped forward. With her movement, her once silhouetted frame was now exposed to the light. She was dressed in a crisp navy-blue suit unlike her fellow team members. The outfit was intentional, as she presented herself as serious. A woman with a motive to appear approachable and simultaneously unrelenting.

In her hands were a thin blue folder. She met direct eye contact with the President, placing the folder down with a definite swat. Ximena's lips briefly twitched with a compelling smize. "These files were taken from the private offices of William Stryker. It's alright, have a look," She encouraged.

He did exactly that. Picking up the file warily before flipping through the pages with a prominent grimace. "How did you get this?"

"Now, I'm not Jesus, I can't walk on water, but going through walls... mm, that'll do." Ximena slightly lifted her chin as her friends quietly laughed behind her.

He took that into consideration, having to sit back down to comprehend it all. Ximena didn't blame him; it was a big pill to swallow. However, she'd happily gag it down his throat if it'll finally make him see. The doctor may not be eloquent speaking or well-tempered like Jean, but she was effective and spirited. She knew the people she was fighting for, understood their struggles, spent time hearing their hearts desires.

Yes, she would do the legislative position, but she would do it her way.

The President shook his head. "I've never... I've never seen this information."

"I know, " Professor Xavier said.

"Then you also know I don't respond well to threats."

"Mr. President, this is not a threat. This is an opportunity. There are forces in this world, both mutant and human alike, who believe that a ware is coming. You'll see from those files that some have already tried to start one... and there have been causalities. Losses on both sides."

Ximena averted her eyes to the carpet for only a breath. That damn lump in her throat returning as she pulled herself together. "Mr. President, what you are about to tell the world is true. This is a moment. A moment to repeat the mistakes of the past, or to work together for a better future. We're here to stay, Mr. President."

"The next move," Ximena spoke up, gaining his attention as she arched a conclusive brow. "Is yours." She walked back to Logan's side, intertwining their hands tightly.

"We'll be watching," Logan added, smirking as the lightning struck - lighting up the room erratically before they disappeared from sight altogether.

The Illusionist woman would be back, no doubt. And next time, she would be back with a vengeance.

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Unedited. 11/6/22

Okay what in the absolute hell is this!? Ximena and Logan own me. Also, Yes Ximena! She's going to be playing with the big boys now. This Act isn't over even though the movie timeline is. I have another mission/plotline I have planned for this Act so stay tuned.

Have you ever dealt with grief and overcome it/ learned to live with it? What or who brought you back, I'd love to read. Xx

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