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Henry didn't have much luggage when he left. Aside from personal clothing and essentials, he only had the computer he'd brought with him to Switzerland—which would now be shipped back to his apartnt in Los Angeles. Other than that, he owned very little.
Early the next morning, the taxi arranged to take him to the airport arrived at the quiet farmhouse, the sa one that had hosted the funeral gathering the day before.
As Henry loaded his luggage into the car, he had to fend off five dogs that were enthusiastically "helping." Robert laughed from the side.
"Henry, look—they seem reluctant to see you go."
"No, they're just trying to make trouble," Henry said, shooing away a mutt that was about to lift its leg on a cardboard box.
Then, rembering sothing, he asked Robert, "Yesterday, during the will reading… it didn't sound like Miss Hepburn left you anything?"
"How could she not?" Robert chuckled, scratching one of the dogs behind the ears. "She left these five rascals.
"The things Audrey wanted to have, she gave long ago. The words she wanted to say—she'd already said them.
"A will isn't about love or sentint. It's just what's left to distribute afterward. She ntioned you in it precisely because you never asked her for anything."
"I wish she'd told herself, while she was still here," Henry said with a faint sigh.
"Haha, that was my privilege," Robert grinned. "Anyway, safe travels. If you ever need help, you can always reach ."
Henry shook his hand. "I will. Please take care of yourself too."
Just as he suspected, neither Robert nor Audrey's sons, Sean and Luca, made any attempt to keep him on. Even if they had considered it, the ntion of that five-hundred-thousand-franc bequest—though declined—was enough to make them think twice.
Whatever they planned to do with their mother's inheritance, having one less outsider around to comnt or interfere could only be a good thing.
So they tactfully said nothing about Henry's upcoming book publication or the signed photograph Audrey had left him. After all, those weren't really part of her estate—nor valuable enough to fight over.
So that's the end of this chapter of life, Henry thought. He felt no real regret.
---
Waiting nearby was soone else ready to leave—Jean Grey, the Phoenix herself.
Having helped through the funeral and wake, she finally found her mont to slip away. Truthfully, she had hoped to find a place for herself here, but with Audrey gone, there was no reason to stay.
So, taking advantage of Henry's departure, she decided to leave with him.
Since he was the one who'd brought her here, Henry wasn't heartless enough to abandon her. Acting the gentleman, he opened the car door for her. When both were seated, he told the driver in French, "Geneva International Airport."
The taxi rolled onto the road.
"You're going back to Arica?" Jean asked.
"Yes."
"How?"
"By plane, of course." Henry waved his passport with a grin. "Stamp in, stamp out—legal entry."
"Tch." Jean clicked her tongue. Technically, she was leaving Switzerland illegally. But then again, what did that matter to soone who could cross continents with a thought?
Still, she asked, "Where exactly are you going?"
"Wow, lady, that's an awfully detailed question," Henry replied. "You're not planning to follow , are you?"
"No!" Jean turned away sharply, clearly annoyed. But after a pause, she added quietly, "I've decided to go back to New York."
"Good for you. I'm heading back to Los Angeles."
Jean's sudden glare made Henry nearly consider jumping out of the moving car. He quickly changed the subject.
"You're going back to Xavier's School for Gifted Youngsters, right?"
Jean didn't admit that the school had since been renad the Jean Grey School for Higher Learning under its new headmistress—Mystique. One of her goals in returning was probably to tear down that sign.
"Aren't you worried the U.S. governnt might co after you?" Henry asked.
"I've been in touch with Raven," Jean replied calmly. "She doesn't think the governnt's a real problem. If I want to return, I can do it anyti."
Sure—just change the na and deny everything. What's the governnt going to do?
Genosha, Magneto's mutant refuge, sheltered far worse fugitives. Unless soone caused a major international incident, no one ca knocking.
The U.S. governnt didn't really want justice—it wanted control. How many so-called terrorists and fugitives were really on the CIA's payroll anyway?
---
During the ten days Jean spent helping Henry care for Audrey Hepburn, sothing in her had begun to thaw.
Her confusion hadn't lifted during her long, lonely wandering—it had only deepened, trapping her in an emotional maze of her own making.
But human connection—simple human warmth—had cracked that shell of isolation. The frail but gentle touch of that kind lady had rekindled sothing in her: a longing for warmth, for contact, for belonging.
So Jean had secretly begun reaching out to the X-n again. She didn't necessarily want to stand in the public eye once more—but she did want to go ho.
Henry didn't mock her for it. Instead, he said softly, "That's good. Having sowhere to go back to is always better than having nowhere at all."
Jean looked at him. "What about you? What are you going to do in Los Angeles? Why not co with to New York? With your abilities, you'd be a great help to the X-n."
Henry gave her a look that very clearly said, 'What nonsense are you talking about?'
Go to New York—the epicenter of every cosmic catastrophe? Live in a mutant madhouse? No thanks.
If he'd had psychic powers, maybe his life would have been different—but since he didn't, he wanted nothing to do with the X-n.
Sensing the faint surge of killing intent from Jean, he quickly added, "Los Angeles is fine. I still have an apartnt there, and I'm still paying rent. Wouldn't want it to go to waste."
Jean fell silent. She'd lost all interest in continuing the conversation.
Whoever said "playing hard to get" worked clearly hadn't t her—she preferred affection straight up. She was already thinking about going back to Scott. Sweet, jealous, predictable Scott.
Seeing she'd quieted down, Henry was happy to do the sa.
He wasn't sure how far his abilities could take him—but one thing was certain: Jean Grey, with the Phoenix Force, was one of the most dangerous beings on the planet.
And by his philosophy—the greater the power, the greater the trouble that cos with it—it was best to keep as much distance as possible.
Still, her question made him realize sothing important: what was he going to do once he got back to Los Angeles?
Keep freeloading around film crews as a bit actor?
Didn't sound appealing—not after seeing the glamour and filth of that world up close.
Maybe he could ride the tech boom of the coming years, carve out a na for himself in the IT world, and quietly build up the legend of "CK."
But that alias could never go public. The louder a hacker's na, the faster the cops co knocking.
So yes, he could build the myth of CK—but quietly, in the shadows. Publicly, he'd still need a day job as cover. His savings weren't enough to retire early anyway—he'd need a steady inco.
Being a lazy ass was fine—but even a lazy ass needed food to eat.
He'd learned firsthand that starvation was not a fun experience—and he had no intention of repeating it.
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