CHAPTER 172 — THE FUNERAL
The sky was heavy with gray, a ceiling of clouds pressed low over the cemetery. The autumn air bit sharp, the kind that carried the smell of wet earth and wilted flowers. The hole in the ground was ready, its edges dark with freshly turned soil.
Jean Grey-Summers. Beloved daughter. Beloved sister. Beloved friend.
The stone was too clean, too final.
Her parents stood closest. Professor John Grey stiff in his suit, jaw set, eyes like glass. Elaine Grey clutched Sarah's hand like a lifeline, sobbing into a damp handkerchief. Sarah, red-eyed but trying to hold herself together, looked at the coffin as if it might open again, as if her sister might sit up and laugh this all off.
Xavier sat in his chair a step away from the family, silent. His hands were folded in his lap, but his knuckles showed white. Lilandra stood just behind him, draped in her Shi'ar royal garb, her head bowed. Alien royalty at a human grave.
The X-Men formed a half-circle around the pit.
Cyclops stood like a man hollowed out. His glasses hid his eyes, but his posture screamed despair. His hands twitched at his sides, restless, empty. The engagement ring still weighed in his pocket — a cruel reminder.
Storm placed a hand gently on his shoulder. "Scott," she whispered, her voice soft, like a breeze through reeds.
He didn't answer.
Colossus held his cap in his massive hands, his young face wet with tears. "She… she was like warmth to us all," he said under his breath, his accent thick with grief. "A flame in the cold."
Nightcrawler pressed the rosary between his fingers, blue face tilted skyward. "Gott, give her peace. She bore too much burden." His tail swayed behind him, restless, curling and uncurling as if it couldn't bear stillness.
Beast, in human guise with his fur combed flat, muttered low. "We were children together, bright-eyed, idealistic. Now one of us lies under the dirt." His voice cracked, the usual eloquence weighted by mourning.
Angel stood apart, his wings folded tight, his jaw set like stone. His golden hair blew in the cold air, but he didn't speak. He stared at the coffin like it was an enemy he couldn't strike down.
Thunderbird, newly among them in death's shadow, growled low. "Another warrior gone before her time. Spirits take her where they will." He spat into the earth. "This world's cruel. She deserved better."
Lilandra finally stepped forward, her eyes wet. "I… I am to blame," she whispered, her voice trembling. "Jean saved my people, saved my throne. And yet it was I who condemned her. If the stars have mercy, let her soul be free."
Xavier reached for her hand. "You are not alone in guilt, my dear," he said, his voice hoarse. "The burden was all of ours."
And then there was Logan. Standing a step back, arms folded, face unreadable. His eyes under the shadow of his brow stayed locked on the coffin.
'If I was faster. Stronger. If I had gutted the Phoenix before it gutted her. Maybe she'd still be here. Damn it, Jeannie. You deserved better than me failing you.'
The priest's voice rose, words of scripture fading in the wind. Logan only half-heard them. His senses painted the scene sharper than anyone else's. The wet sting of salt from tears. The iron tang of nails sealing the coffin. The perfume of Jean's mother, choked by grief. Even the faint ozone trace of Storm's restrained power, swirling above to keep the rain from breaking.
It was all too clear. Too real.
Cyclops finally spoke, voice breaking like glass. "She was my life. My heart. And now…" He stopped, unable to finish. His fists clenched. "Now there's nothing."
Storm squeezed his arm, but her own tears rolled freely. "There is everything she left behind, Scott. Her love. Her courage. Those remain."
Nightcrawler nodded. "A soul like hers does not vanish. She is with God now."
Angel's wings twitched. "She should be here. With us. Not in the ground."
Beast sighed. "And yet she is. The cruel arithmetic of existence leaves no room for what should be."
Thunderbird's voice was harsh. "Then we owe her vengeance. For what took her away."
Xavier's eyes hardened. "We owe her remembrance, John. Nothing more."
Logan snorted. "Remembrance don't stop the nightmares, Chuck." He spat into the dirt, jaw tightening. "But hell… it's all we got left."
The coffin began to lower. Elaine Grey wailed, clutching her husband. Sarah's voice broke on a sob. "Goodbye, Jean… goodbye…"
Scott turned away, unable to watch. Logan didn't blink. He owed her that much. He'd watch her go into the earth, because she deserved someone strong enough to see it through.
And as the ropes creaked, lowering her down, he thought again, sharp and raw —
'If I'd been stronger. You'd still be here.'