𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐎𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐒𝐢𝐝𝐞 || 𝐗-𝐌𝐄𝐍 ||

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟖

˗ˏˋ꒰🃏꒱

The group gathered outside the X-Mansion, rain cascading down as Charles addressed them. His voice cut through the downpour with a solemn gravitas.

"We are all at war," he began, his words resonating through the steady patter of rain. "At war with ourselves, and Raven had been waging that war for most of her life. I hope now she's found peace. Raven died doing what she did best... helping a friend, a friend in need. She is not gone. She lives on, through me, through us... and through the spirit of the X-Men."

As Charles spoke, everyone clutched their black umbrellas, their faces somber. Milo, however, stood apart from the group, her eyes locked on the grave of her beloved. The rain dripped down her face, mingling with the tears she no longer bothered to wipe away. She didn't make eye contact with anyone, lost in the profound sorrow that consumed her.

Everyone went back inside the X-Mansion, where some of the kids had gathered, waiting anxiously. Milo followed Scott, Storm, and Kurt into the main area.

"Is it true? Jean killed her?" one of the kids asked, their voice trembling.

Milo looked up and glanced at the kids, her heart heavy. Scott stepped forward, trying to offer some reassurance. "She didn't know what she was doing. Jean lost control. But she—she's still Jean. She's still our friend. We can still help her. We can find her and bring her home. That's... that's what we're gonna do, okay?"

Milo stood a few feet away from Scott, struggling to reconcile his words with the reality she faced. As Scott spoke, Milo's disbelief and frustration mounted. She walked past him, intentionally bumping into his shoulder, and made her way toward the kitchen.

˗ˏˋ꒰🃏꒱

The rain pattered against the kitchen window of the X-Mansion as Milo sat at the table, still dressed in black from Raven's funeral. She stared vacantly at a glass of water, lost in her grief. The sound of Charles's wheelchair rolling into the kitchen broke the silence. He passed by the counter, grabbed a bottle of alcohol, and poured himself a drink before settling down at the table.

"This is where I first met Raven," Charles began, his voice carrying a note of nostalgia. "She was just a little girl who broke in looking for food. I told her she could stay and that she'd never have to go hungry again. I think I promised her a better life." He took a sip from his glass.

Milo continued to stare at her glass of water, her voice barely a whisper. "And then you took it from her."

Charles paused, looking at her with a mix of confusion and concern. "I beg your pardon?"

"You heard me," Milo said, finally looking up at him with tear-filled eyes.

"Lo—" Charles began, but she cut him off.

"This is all your fault, Charles. It's your fault she's dead." Milo's voice was heavy with accusation, her gaze unyielding.

Charles looked visibly pained. "Come, that's not fair."

"Fair?" Milo shot back, leaning forward in her seat. "Don't talk to me about fair."

For several minutes, Milo's anger poured out, her words sharp and accusatory. Charles listened in silence, his expression a mix of sorrow and defensiveness.