Archive of Our Own ^beta

Morph: quentin is fucking dead

Hindsight: again? Lmao

Morph: no dude. dead like DEAD, dead.

(Hindsight is typing...)

(Hindsight stopped typing)

Morph: im not joking

Hindsight: That doesn't make any sense

Hindsight: What about the five

Morph: cerebro fucked up or something they won't tell me for sure but they can't bring him back

Morph: logan told me himself

Morph: theyre having a funeral and everything, do you think we should go?

Morph: nathan?

Hindsight: jesus christ

Hindsight: hes really dead?

Hindsight: what about the future phoenix?

Morph: i dont know. i dont think the future works like that

Morph: the funeral is on friday.

"Each of us," Xavier says, "strives, every day, to make this world a better and safer place for mutantkind; and yet, even with all of our technology, all of our ingenuity, not everyone can be saved."

The land around Dead Mutant Cove is largely undeveloped, unaffected by the encroaching society of young mutants and the white curves of their houses. Green, and quiet except for the crashing of the waves, but not too far from everything; a good place for Krakoa's first and only funeral.

"On behalf of the Quiet Council, I would like to offer my condolences to those close to the deceased, and our deepest sadness at the loss of such a bright young mind. With heavy hearts, we on the Quiet Council and everyone involved in the care of Krakoan citizens will strive to do better..."

It feels more like a press conference than a funeral, despite the setting. Xavier with his back to the cliff, Cerebro gleaming in the sun, facing the standing congregation. A few key players lined up behind him - Marvel Girl, Proteus, and even Sinister, all dressed in black, though none in suits. Beast and the rest of the Five couldn't be spared. The attendees are mostly mutants curious or alarmed enough to want to hear Xavier's speech.

The first permanent mutant death after the establishment of the Five.

Whispers of alarm spread across Krakoa in the days since Quentin's death - that the Five had stopped working, that Cerebro was glitching. The people are restless. It's less than ideal that they know about the death at all, but never mind that; Xavier works his magic over all of them, steady words and a fog of psychic sweetness. There is nothing wrong with the process. This was a temporary glitch, a once-in-a-lifetime anomaly in a frequent flier, nothing more.  There's nothing for the residents of Krakoa to fear.

A scant handful of attendees wait for the speech to be over: Gwen Poole, arms crossed, popping bubblegum. Nathaniel Carver, fidgeting with his gloves. Benjamin Deeds, appearance wavering from the redhead on his left to the squidlike mutant in front of him. Idie Okonkwo, rosary in one hand, Broo's hand in the other. Logan looking like he'd rather be anywhere else. Phoebe, crying.

The rest of the Cuckoos are nowhere to be seen. Jean and Xavier can see the reason why, while the rest can only feel it: the raw edge of Phoebe's heart rolls off her like mist, filling the air with a heavy, tight echo. This is my fault. The attendees who only wanted to hear Xavier's reassurance shift, queasy and uncertain. The Cuckoos certainly have it worse.

Phoebe sees:

The mind of Nathaniel Carver, wandering slightly, he is fidgeting, tapping a foot, wondering whether he should go out for dinner or stay in; kicking himself, how could you think about something like that at a funeral; he is thinking about Quentin Quire, teenaged still, and his vicious grin, and how lonely he had been, and wondering if he was still lonely at the time of his death; he is missing the Jean Grey Institute, and his eyes wander to Jean Grey herself and he wonders at Krakoa.

The mind of Benji Deeds, in a tunnel, in a school, in an auction by the Hellfire Club, wondering if he'd ever have kissed Nathan if Quentin hadn't been there, wondering, too, what Nathan is thinking; wondering if he belongs here, and his hair is turning pink at the roots and shorter at the sides, and then he is resisting the transformation with a certain petulance because he'd rather be caught dead than looking like Quentin fucking Quire, and then feeling like scum for thinking that at his funeral, but I'm not wrong, am I? That guy was a fashion disaster. All the big fighters are.

Idie Okonkwo, then, shot through with guilt and hesitation: Hail Mary, full of grace. The Lord is with thee. Blessed art thou amongst women, and blessed is the fruit of thy womb, Jesus. Holy Mary, Mother of God, pray for us sinners, now and at the hour of our death, Amen.

And Broo, confused and concerned as to the state of Cerebro, remembering that he will not get a revival if it comes to that; feeling an odd sense of kinship with Quentin, then, both locked into mortality, except Quentin is gone, and Broo is still here, and he really didn't think that Quentin would be the first to die of all of them, but he wasn't, now, was he? That would go to Evan Sabah Nur. But all the same Quentin was the future Phoenix, and while yes the future doesn't work like that it just seems wrong for Quentin, larger than life Quentin, I'm gonna be king of the world and sleazoids like you are gonna lick my boots someday you mark my words Quentin to die in some irrelevant scuffle that wouldn't even have ended the world, just for one girl who had dumped him already.

Logan is trying, for his part, trying not to think about gambling and graduations and homework and Hellfire, trying not to imagine a younger Quentin groaning and squirming at each new sentence of his own eulogy, saying, I'd rather have my nails peeled off one by one than listen to another second of this tripe. Logan is trying not to think about the school. Trying not to think about Evan and Broo and Idie and Quentin, Angel and Glob and Eye-Boy, all the students that used to mill around the courtyard and clog up the hallways and harass the bamfs. It is gone, and has been gone for a while now, only the loss seems more immediate every time another classmate disappears. It's stupid. He never thought about this sort of thing while Quentin was alive. Too busy being annoyed at the little asshole.

Gimme a fucking break, says mental-Quentin. Look at all of them pretending to be sad. Puh-lease. Don't pretend anyone here remembered my name. Hell, this would be a celebration, if you all weren't so attached to ceremony.

That's not true, thinks Logan.

Yeah, but I died believing it. Doesn't that bother you even a little bit?

Of course it does.

He rolls his eyes. Right, I forgot. You think you're everyone's dad. Heartwarming. Well, newsflash, furball. You can't save everyone.

I know, Logan thinks. I know...

If the next words that come out of your head are "I'm sorry," I'm going to mindblast you so hard your brains will turn to oatmeal and back again.

And finally, Gwen Poole. Not sad. Not even confused. She is thinking about - the taste of bubblegum and the fact that the rest of the West Coast Avengers aren't here, that at least Kate Bishop should be here, since she was his team leader, isn't that odd; and why are they making a big funeral for him, anyway, when he died in some lame no-name fight and this definitely isn't gonna last, not for the future Phoenix nor for a character Grant Morrison invented - although that didn't turn out so well for some of the others so who knows. Though, wouldn't it be hilarious if they just wanted to get rid of him? And how come Gwen's allowed to be here? Isn't X-Force supposed to be, like, a serious X-Men book? Is this even X-Force? Doesn't seem like a series that'd have time for an extended funeral scene for one of the many deaths of Kid Omega.

But now - a smattering of applause which dies quickly once the attendees remember they're at a funeral and that was technically a eulogy. Gwen's gum bubble pops. There are no more eulogies.

The crowd disperses quickly pretty much as soon as Xavier walks away, and the representatives follow. Some don't move - Logan is leaning against a nearby tree, and Phoebe's still crying, softer now. Domino casts a glance at a few of the lingerers, but leaves all the same.

"He didn't even say Quentin's name," Benji mutters. Nathan shakes his head.

Idie hasn't finished praying the Rosary yet, and Broo hangs by her side, fidgeting as she says a Glory Be. Logan drifts over to her side, eyes flickering from the crashing sea far below to Idie's fingers on the beads of the rosary. Broo gives him a shy wave and mouths, long time no see. Nathan, Benji and Phoebe observe at a distance. Gwen examines her fingernails.

Idie finishes up and crosses herself, and Broo squeezes her hand. Silence falls across the clearing.

"Didn't think I'd be seeing you," Logan says.

Idie doesn't look at him. "It's not every day someone dies on this island."

"No, it's not."

"Was there really no body?"

He grunts in the affirmative.

"Did he suffer?"

"No."

"Was he happy?"

Logan pauses for a little too long, then, and Idie makes the connection and closes her eyes. Broo shakes his head, as if to say, what a shame.

(Gwen watches the pair and thinks about how grim they are. Surely they weren't this grim in Wolverine and the X-Men.)

"He was gettin' there," Logan says. Which isn't strictly a lie, but it isn't strictly the truth, either.

"Still just as much of a tool?" Benji asks bravely.

Logan laughs for the first time. "Yeah. Just as much of a tool."

"God, I knew it," Nathan says, bolder now that the silence is broken. "I'd always see him around Krakoa still wearing those stupid graphic tees and think, new mutant CIA, same old Quentin. How the hell did he qualify for X-Force?"

"Same way he qualified for not being thrown in jail," Logan says. "He's-"

"An Omega-level threat," Nathan and Benji groan together. Then - "Jinx! You owe me a soda! Jinx again!"

(Logan has a suddenly vivid mental image of Quentin pretending to gag himself. Get a room!) Phoebe giggles, despite herself.

"What's funny?" Logan says, turning his gaze to her standing off against a tree, and she makes like a deer in headlights.

"Oh!" Nathan turns and jumps when he sees her. "Wow. Didn't see you there."

"Um, hey. What's your name?" Benji asks. "I'm Morph."

"I know," says Phoebe. "I'm sorry - you just all have such strong mental impressions of Quentin. I - oh, I'm sorry. I'm Phoebe. His girlfriend." (Idie glances up at her.)

"Ex-girlfriend," Logan corrects somewhat stiffly.

"Since when are you up to date on Quentin's love life?" Benji ribs.

"Since he wouldn't shut up about the heartbreak during critical missions."

Nathan lets out a stifled laugh and a burst of yeah, sounds about right; Phoebe shrinks.

"Honestly," Benji says hastily, "can't blame you. I'd probably break up with him too. You and Idie and Gwen should, like, start a support group."

That doesn't seem to be what Phoebe wanted to hear, either. Her expression pinches. "That's not fair," she says quietly. "I didn't break up with him because of that. He was a good boyfriend."

"Really?" says Nathaniel, despite himself.

"Really."

"Really," Idie says flatly.

"Really! He was good! It just... didn't work out for other reasons."

"Fair enough," Benji says, and quickly: "You all remember the Danger Room codes he used to sell?"

"Oh my Godddd." Nathaniel puts his face in his hands. "I lost so much money. I just wanted to sleep."

Broo gasps - "They didn't work for you all either? He assured me it was only a temporary glitch!"

"No, Broo," Idie says, somewhat quietly, though smiling. "The codes didn't work at all. None of them did."

"He said he got them from Beast, though?"

"He was lying, then," Logan says. "Beast has psychic shields that I doubt he could break that many times, and each staff member only had one Danger Room override code."

"That little bastard," Nathan groans.

Phoebe laughs, again, louder and more open this time, and now nobody has to ask - her presence is light and glowing, skipping through their minds and picking up the threads of Quentin dug up by the reminiscing. And then he's among them, teenaged and illusory in pink, groaning up at the sky - "Are we all seriously about to have a heart-to-heart? Yeah, miss me with that shit."

"Oh, God, he would," Nathan says.

"At his own funeral?" says Benji.

"At his own funeral," Idie agrees.

"Just because I'm dead," illusory Quentin continues, "doesn't give you all the excuse to act like Oscar bait. You're all being so boring! Get on with your lives! Jesus!"

Logan bats the illusion away with a snort. "Alright, alright. That was a shit eulogy, wasn't it?"

"So bad," agree Nathan and Benji. Idie and Broo nod, and Gwen adds an emphatic, mmhmm.

"Give us a better one, then," says Idie.

"To Quentin Quire," Logan says, and raises an imaginary glass. "He was a dick. And he did good."

"Hear, hear!" says Benji. "Happy death day, class prez!"

It's bizarre, but better than Xavier's speech - a bright string through their minds, that this fits much more than some stuffy funeral where everyone's wearing suits. Even as they shout their mock eulogies, everyone can picture Quentin, gagging and mocking his way through them, pressing back even on the sincerity of his own funeral. It's paradoxical and stupid and silly and all too right.

And then - it's over. Logan heads to the Wild Hunt to meet up with Domino. Nathan and Benji return home, Idie and Broo go for a walk down to the beach of Dead Mutant Cove, and Phoebe wanders off to rejoin her sisters with the balm of a funeral still fresh over her heart.

And Gwen.

Gwen has been leaning on a tree this whole time, alternately inspecting her nails and laughing at the fitting absurdity of this whole situation. She's only here for the free drinks, which ended up not even being real. After all, she knows The Secret: the big secret.

Because Quentin isn't really dead, is he? Nobody ever is, not on Krakoa or anywhere else. He died in an irrelevant scuffle that wouldn't have even ended Krakoa, and his body was never seen, and the circumstances of his death are unexplained. All of this points to his eventual return. Not even a Harry Osborn, all-things-come-around return - probably a return within the pages of the same run of X-Force, honestly.

The issue is - well, the issue is this funeral. Why bother getting all these characters together to talk to each other without explaining the continuity that ties them together? She never spotted an editor's note explaining that Wolverine taught Idie and Broo, or that Quentin helped get Nathan and Benji together. Plus, Nathan and Benji got speaking roles. In Krakoa. Truly, against the natural order. It has no plot relevance whatsoever. Hell, Domino left without saying a single relevant sentence. No sane person would write this into the pages of X-Force. It's altogether too self-indulgent, amateurish and directionless. There's only one explanation.

This must be fanfic.

The one issue is, who the hell writes fanfic of Kid Omega's funeral? It has no romantic value nor really any wish fulfillment. Does anyone even like Kid Omega? The author sure did rib him a lot, too.

"So, like..." Gwen pauses to gather her thoughts. "What's the deal?"

(Okay, you got me.)

She glances up. Blinks. "Oh. Hi?"

(Hi. Nice to meetcha. I've been looking forward to writing this, you know.)

"Um, yeah. It's just a little weird, is all. What does this have to do with the funeral?"

(Well, I don't know. I thought we could talk a little bit to each other, like Animal Man. Have you ever read Animal Man?)

"Honestly, I usually read newer comics."

(Yeah, that's fair. I've been on a Grant Morrison kick lately. Read their X-Men too, though I didn't think it was as great as everyone said.)

"You liked Quentin, though?"

(Yeah. Well... Yeah? He was kind of annoying in New X-Men, and I really didn't like Phoenix Endsong. Fucking Greg Land.)

"Oh my god, Greg Land." She pinches the bridge of her nose. "Dare I ask why you're writing about him, then?"

(It's because of you, actually. I liked your little subplot in West Coast Avengers. Ended up getting me into the X-Men, though I gotta say, it's really annoying having stuff I want to write but feeling like you have to read every X-Men comic ever as homework.)

"Whatever, I'm sure the readers won't mind if you fuck up continuity a little bit. Comics do it all the time."

(I guess.)

"Sooo... Why funeral? I mean, you know as well as I that he's definitely coming back."

(Oh, yeah, definitely. Actually, he already came back during the process of writing this, so I guess I'm obsolete.)

"Wait, really?"

(Yeah, X-Force #39 brought him back with a big pink beard.)

"That's hilarious."

(I thought so.)

"Kind of takes the wind out of this fic, though, doesn't it?"

(I don't know. I thought so at first, but then I thought, you know, comics already have so many problems with lack of impact. Even the characters don't take deaths seriously anymore. How am I supposed to care about any of this? I even kind of hoped Quentin was dead for real just so there would be some sort of consequence in his story, but I guess he has to be the Future Phoenix.)

"You're not really helping your point."

(True. But my point is, if a character's feelings ever mattered at all, then surely it must matter when they die, right? I have to choose to care. And I think everyone else chooses to care, as well. Logan and Nathan and Benji and so on. You're not choosing to care, and I don't mind saying that from a character perspective, it's a choice I'm making. But also, you're Gwenpool and you have to be kind of earnest, so I think you're using that ironic meta cover to hide from your grief.)

"Maybe, but you also told me he's back within a year or something, so I'm honestly not super worried anymore."

(Yeah, kind of blew that one I guess. But does it ever really matter when anything ends, except in that you choose to let it matter? Everyone I know hates Quentin. They call him an incel and an asshole, and they're right. But I also like him. I think he's sweet when he tries. I feel sorry for him. It's sad that he's so lonely and constantly loses, but can never have a happy ending or make any real progress because of comics. I mean, did you see the regression between Wolverine and the X-Men and the start of Generation X? It kills me. He graduated, for Heaven's sake, and then they put him right back into school. And who was he, really? He changed so much over the years, but always washed out for the sake of marketability. If there's ever a time to ask these questions, it's at a funeral.)

"I never really read Generation X, to be honest."

(Right. More of a Spider-Man and Ms Marvel guy, I can respect that. My point is, I wanted to put some respect on his name. I wanted to show that he matters to me. Because how can a person ever matter if their death means nothing? Right?)

"Doesn't that argument lose impact in a medium where death doesn't mean a lot?"

(Yeah. I guess... I don't really know. I just wanted to say something like, "he matters." Like "his existence matters and there are people who care about him for who he was." It's all any of us wanna hear, really.)

"Yeah..." She sighs. "Yeah. Maybe I'll be nicer when he comes back."

(No, you won't. This fanfic is gonna end soon and this whole continuity will cease. You don't even exist in X-Force.)

"Am I even still around?"

(Yeah, you came out as asexual recently.)

"I did? Huh. Good for me."

(Yeah, congrats. Listen, I'm sorry for keeping you this long. You should go to the Wild Hunt for drinks. Logan and Domino are there. You'll have fun. I think I've said all I want to say.)

"Ah, okay. Thanks, dude."

(No problem.)

"Good luck with bearded Quentin, God unrest his soul."

(Thanks. I'll need it.)

And Gwen strolls off down the hill to the Wild Hunt to get drinks with Logan and Domino. She enjoys her drinks and has a very good time.