THE END OF THE WORLD

Aftermath: Perchance to Dream

By Jason Kenney

Have I failed them?

Have I failed myself?

I could live with failing myself, my own dreams, but theirs, after filling them with so much hope and seeing all they have gone through for me and my dream…

A doubt has crept into my mind, something I’ve told myself was never there before, but, just recently, I’ve realized it has always been there, only ignored.

There is a world falling apart around me, apart at its seams from its own hatred and anger and ignorance and fears. I’ve tried to save it, they’ve tried to save it, but my students… no… I have failed.

There is little hope in dead dreams.

The sky slowly overtakes a late day sun as a man stares across the horizon. Darkness floods over the hues of color the sun leaves at dusk, pinpricks of light slowly making their presence known in the new cover of sky.

Light from now-dead stars still reaches the world, light sent on its way years ago, before many were born. The star lives on, if only far away from where it used to be.

Years since a dream was instilled in five young souls it still lives on. Many fight for this dream, while their means may vary, their goal is the same.

Peace.

The dream lives on, if only far away from where it used to be.

Charles Francis Xavier sits on the balcony of his Westchester school, staring at the horizon. He has sat in this spot many times these past few days, usually doing nothing but staring and pondering.

Pondering the end of the world.

Days ago events occured which will perhaps forever change everything for Charles Xavier and his X-Men. But, that is only one of many things that have been on Xavier’s mind since his students’ latest defeat at the hands of their oldest and most respected foe, Xavier’s old friend and compatriot, one-time sharer of his dream.

His first thought was consciousness. Blackness that has engulfed him slowly brightened, bringing him into the world he so desires to help. He was held in the arms of Storm, the field leader of his half of a divided team. She tried to comfort him with words, but his mind was already active beyond his other senses.

Mental images leapt from others’ minds into his own.

Images of unconscious Acolytes being taken into custody by S.H.I.E.L.D. as the Helicarrier hovered above the darkened American capital.

Images of a former Israeli agent leaning over the body of the son of the Master of Magnetism.

Images of doubt from his beaten and downtrodden students.

Images of concern for those left in the harsh Siberian elements.

His mind called out, and a response was given, it was already being taken care of.

Xavier passed out again as S.H.I.E.L.D. medical personal arrived to help him.

S.H.I.E.L.D. had already alerted the proper facilities of the situation, and personnel were dispatched to a location thought to be nothing but a patch of frozen wasteland. Their arrival was greeted by cries for help as a woman hunched over a body, trying desperately to pump a beat back into the heart of a man who saved her life as another body laid unconscious near by.

It was Gabrielle Haller’s continuous efforts to revive Maggott that allowed S.H.I.E.L.D. to easily being him back to the land of the living. Wolverine’s unconsciousness was a problem solved a few hours later and the man woke up on his own.

A medical checkup showed that it was simple lack of oxygen that affected Charles Xavier. Luckily it did not last long enough to affect his brain, but it did make him tired.

But, there was an unexpected finding though this medical examination. One that was not the result of the current events, but one that was significant enough.

Charles Xavier will share that soon enough.

Maggott’s condition was not as good. While he was indeed alive, his degree of living left something to be desired. The blast he endured from Magneto’s servant would have killed most men twice as stong as Maggott, it was either shear luck or skilled care that saved him.

While not necessarily killing him, it did the next best thing, leaving him technically braindead, a vegetable if you will.

He was taken to Muir Island for care, an island whose medical facilities were unfortunately unable to support much of anything at the moment, causing Maggott to be transfered to the mainland.

But, he was not alone.

Sabra accompanied Joseph to Muir and then to the mainland. Joseph’s case was a curious one, one that Charles Xavier still has yet to figure out himself, for it is all in his mind.

Magneto spent a lot of time inside Charles Xavier’s head, a lot of time devoted to studying and getting to know what parts of the mind did what. The mind runs on electrical impulses form nerves, pulses that can be controlled by the Master of Magnetism.

Some pulses cause an eyelid to flutter, others cause the heart to skip a beat or an arm to lift. Some pulses cause the mind to go beyond the five senses and affect other minds, invade them, make them work how they please.

Some pulses cause one man to mentally put another to sleep.

One pulse very similar causes one man to mentally forget how to wake up.

Joseph has forgotten.

The end of the world. Maybe not THE world, but one man’s world. Not because of his losses, physical or theological, not because of his dreams or subsequent doubts, not because of the loss of those around him, but because of a simple medical examination and its results.

The dream is dying.

Remember this phrase for now.

They come running at the sound of his voice. Not sound as perceived by the ear, but sound as perceived by the mind of his X-Men as he calls to them.

They gather in his study, all waiting silently to hear from their teacher. Here is the man who has led them for so long, who they would sacrifice themselves for, simply because they believe in him and his dream.

“My X-Men,” he slowly says with a sigh as he enters his study from the balcony. He pushes on the wheels of his wheelchair to his desk and then stops, resting his arms on the armrests, his fingers steepling at his chin. “My X-Men,” he says again, seeming to ponder this statement. “I am sorry for my mood as of late, there have been plenty of things on my mind. These past few days have been hectic for all of us.”

“There is a doubt in my mind that has been troubling me greatly, a doubt in the dream.” The others look at him quizically, Bobby Drake, Iceman, one of his original students opening his mouth to speak, silenced as Xavier hold up one of his hands. “Not a doubt in you all, or your faith, or my own. No, the doubt actually is more… physical in its origin.”

“My students, my X-Men, after all we have been through together, I do not question you or your faith towards the dream, and for that I am thankful; not only because I feel vindicated by your faith, but also because there are times when I need your faith to keep me faithful. This is one of those times.”

“Times. Time. Time is short, my X-Men.” Xavier drops his head in his hands for a moment, trying to collect himself.

Remember, the dream is dying…

“Professor…” starts Storm, resting a hand on Xavier’s shoulder after approaching him. He looks up to her, his eyes wet. He looks to the others.

Because…

“My X-Men, I have the Legacy Virus.”

…The dreamer is dying…

NEXT ISSUE: Xavier dying? Can the X-Men cope and continue on with the dream?