X-Men: Civil War

Chapter 17: The Writing on the Wall

Maxine Lehnsherr
The news came like a plague, unwanted and destructive. As it registered in her mind, she stopped writing her letter.

I cry, letting the tears push their fat bodies past my eyelids, not a sound escaping my tight lips. My will is the only thing helping self-control guard the door that holds back the scream forming in my aching throat. It's not any better that I'm in the middle of writing to Dick, as more feelings start to bubble up, overwhelming me in a crushing tidal wave.

Guilt, pain, regret, but most of all guilt. It bends over me tauntingly, dangling blessed resolve just out of my reach. I can't let my friends go, I can't let another friend die.

Leah's face comes to mind, gaunt and rust stained. Her brown eyes without the light that made her so alive. I choke on a sob, and a gargled yell comes from my raw throat. It's already raw, like it's been prepared for this since yesterday, before I even knew that Christin had died.

Even though I know I couldn't do anything to help her, I should've. I should've been there at her side, protecting her from the bullets, and I should've been there to heal her. Even though she wasn't that close to me, I still consider her a friend. My friend. Because, isn't that what a friend is? Someone who was there when you needed them, who still picked you up when you were at your lowest, who fought for you when they didn't know who they fought for... and I didn't realize how close to that definition she was until she was gone.

And then there's Captain America, Who was the face of everything the X-Men stood for, and he's gone too. The nightmare of death and regret is never ending. I stand up, slide the mostly finished letter into my jacket pocket, and make my way to the Avenger's tower kitchen is. A sink full of dirty dishes waits there for someone to wash, and I need a distraction.

Logan's jacket slides off easily and I roll the green sleeves up to my elbows. I let the faucet run until it heats up. The soap is lemon scented, and it covers the musk of my unwashed body. I should probably take a shower.

I let the suds fill my vision and the rhythmic movements of the rag against pots and ceramic plates. Bits of food float around in the luke-warm water and I stir it around with a sponge, I don't realize that I'm finished until a hand lands on my shoulder, breaking my gaze.

Fear leaps into my chest, I unsheathe my sword, and whirl around, only to find that the blade rests on Tony's neck. I turn back to the sink in a huff, not wanting to look at him.

"It's partially your fault." I say, surprising myself.

"Haven't heard that one in a while, it's a nice break from the apologies." I swallow and release the stopper in the drain.

"He would've said that to me to." He's still talking.

"Well, get used to it, because it's the truth." I state blatantly, not pausing as I pass him to get out of the kitchen. This conversation will only lead to angry tears. Again, his hand grabs a hold of my arm and I look back at him, his eyes are glazed over.

"Don't let the thoughts drown you, I've already gone through the grief of loss." I pull away.

"You don't know the half of what I've been through to tell me that." My words cause my lip to wobble.

"I do know that the past is overwhelming, and that the feeling that a survivor feels is worse than the pain of actual death." I start to cry again.

"And what about the pain of a murderer, and a survivor, and a failure, and a clone?!" The question comes out in a yell.

"What about the shadowy thoughts that plague me when I'm alone, that my own mother killed me, that I am a helpless lunatic who can't even take a breath without hurting someone?!" He stands there with his mouth agape while I pant and take shaky breaths with tears streaking down my face.

"That I killed someone. Someone who I didn't even know, and someone who I was supposed to protect." Now my voice is barely a whisper, and it rakes bloody claws deeper into my heart. He doesn't say anything as I fall to my knees, but he bends down and his arms drape around my shoulders.

Things that I had never dared speak aloud had just flowed out in a waterfall of emotion. Another pair of arms surround me and when I look up I see Pietro smile slightly down at me. Then more hands, Wanda, Natasha, Peter Parker, Carol Danvers, and more who are out of my eyesight. These people all heard what I said, and are trying to comfort me the best they can, I embrace them with tears knowing that I have to leave soon.

"I have to go..." Tony lifts his head and I see the desperation in his eyes, he doesn't want me to leave.

"Wait, Maxine, we're going to have a funeral for Christin and Steve tomorrow, will you stay for that?" I bite my lip, the answer is already on the tip of my tongue.

"Ja." A sigh of relief follows from everyone in the room.

They pull away, but I'm almost knocked to the ground by a hug from Pietro, who I only know by the silver streak. All these people who care for me... I didn't realize some of them even knew my name.

I'm waking up from a fitful sleep that I didn't know I was in.