ATTENTION! This is purely a word of fiction that came from my demented mind late in the night. It does not completely follow the X-men "canon" when it comes to Jason's abilities—I know that. This is merely a "What If" idea I came up with. So if you do not like the idea of Jason's mutation being able to work on his own mind—turn back now.
Disclaimer: I do not own the X-men. If I did, I would be off writing the script of X3 or something.
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Jason's Last Moments
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It was collapsing.
All around him, Dark Cerebro was falling to pieces.
As a large piece of debris fell behind him, the teleporting mutant disappeared
with the white-haired woman who had made the room so cold. An instant later,
the blue mutant had returned, and with a burst of smoke whisked Charles Xavier
away.
For a moment Jason held out the hope that the Teleporter
would return—to save him, like he had the others.
But the blue-skinned German never came back.
Jason's only chance for survival was gone.
He was left to face his end…alone.
And he was scared.
It's because I failed Him…I'm being left here because I failed Him.
Jason couldn't think of Him—Stryker—as his father. The man's cruelty had long ago
driven away any ties that had once existed between them.
Now, he considered Stryker only as a slave would its master. With
fear, and complete subjugation.
He no longer even truly considered himself "Jason". He was "Mute 143"…had been
for more years than he could remember.
A low moan broke from his lips as another piece of Cerebro
came crashing down beside him. He wanted to get away—to escape. But how…?
He knew of only one way.
Summoning up his strength, dragging his mind away from the impending doom,
Jason attempted his last and greatest illusion—on himself.
Suddenly the Cerebro room faded away. And in its
place…
…he lay on a bed in a brightly lit room. The tubes and wires had disappeared
from his body. The room was…peaceful.
A large chunk of stone fell against the side of his wheelchair, sending Jason
sprawling to the ground. More stone began to rain down upon him, crushing him,
making it hard to breathe.
He felt his breath catch in his chest, and struggled for his next breath.
Suddenly, a soft hand stroked his face, and brushed away the stray hairs
falling across his forehead.
Slowly, he turned his mismatched eyes toward the source of this sudden kind
gesture. There, seated beside his bed, smiling ever so gently…
"Mother."
Debris, more rapidly now, began to pelt him. Soon larger and larger chunks of
the machine began to break loose. An enormous metal plate fell from the wall
and crushed his wheelchair.
"Shhh." The woman
continued stroking his sweating face. "It's all right, Jason. It's all right.
Trust me…"
"Mother." He gasped again. Eyes beginning to fill with tears, he reached out
towards her. "Mother, help me…"
She smiled down at him. "I am helping you. Don't worry…soon, we'll be together
again."
"Mother—"
Suddenly, the entire room seemed to break apart. The ceiling burst open and
water flooded in, raining down upon his prone body.
He felt a cool dampness on his cheek—ever so lovingly, his mother was
washing his face.
"It's almost time." She whispered, kissing his
forehead gently before rising and griping his hand. "I'll be waiting for you."
Directly above him a huge piece of celing cracked,
split in two—then fell free.
Intense pain suddenly burst over him, and he gasped—but could not find air.
As his vision began to wane and darken, his last sensation was that of his
mother—tenderly holding him as he faded into oblivion.
Water ran over the stone that now buried him. It was unlikely that anyone would
ever come upon his final place of rest. And though no one would ever be able to
see it, beneath that stone…Jason was smiling.
And for the first time in his life, he was at peace.
