A/N: So this is just a little something that took forever to write because, man, Cyclops is complicated. It takes place before he goes to prison but after he killed Xavier and the Phoenix left him. The dialogue is a bit all over the place, but I did that because he was not right in the head during this time. Still, he's the most interesting character in Marvel comics in my personal opinion. I doubt many will read this, but if you do, please drop a review. I'd love to hear thoughts on whether or not Cyclops was right. :D

-Kenxi

I woke abruptly to darkness, gasping for air as though I hadn't breathed for minutes.

There was a visor on my face that I could feel, so I felt confident to open my eyes. Though at first it was dark, a light went on almost instantly after, and I jerked backwards against the bed I sat up in, as if the red-tinged room was somehow harmful. Something was wrong. Something had to be wrong. My entire body felt hot and feverish, sweat rolling off my skin in continuous rivulets. Not only was it the heat that dried out my throat, but also the uncontrollable shaking that sent fear straight through me.

And I sure couldn't recall the last time I'd been afraid.

"You need to calm down, Cyclops." A furry blue hand rested on my sweat-soaked t-shirt in a cold, unfeeling manner. I glanced up to see Hank there, watching me cautiously as if he didn't know me.

I tried hard to ease my harsh breathing, but it did little for my stuttering words. "W-what happened, H-Hank?" Sheesh. I hadn't had that stutter since I was a kid.

Hank gritted his teeth tightly and turned away from me. I didn't need to be a telepath to tell he was seething. Why? What had happened? I began to lift myself off of the bed to go to him, and that's when I found my wrists shackled to the bed frame. For the first time since I'd woken, my entire body froze, losing the trembling, the sense of something terrible finally coming back to me.

A drop of sweat ran down my cheek like a tear. "Hank. What did I do?" Because, now I realized, I had done something. Something awful. The burning my entire body felt was nothing compared to the burning behind my visor in my eyes. And not the optic blast kind of burning.

Finally, he whipped around, his eyes flashing. "How dare you ask me that? What is wrong with you, Cyclops? Do you even realize what is going to happen, now that you…." He seemed to be the one shaking now, and I just stared at him. Never had I seen Beast this furious. Never had I heard him call me "Cyclops" so coldly. This was a nightmare. It had to be, right?

"Now that I what, Hank?" I was so afraid to hear the answer. It was as if I already knew, but my mind was somehow protecting itself, keeping me from consciously knowing the truth. I recalled nothing but the feeling of dread.

"You killed the Professor. You murdered Charles Xavier."

My breath hitched as it all came back. The Phoenix Five. The Dark Phoenix. The Professor. The extreme heat I was feeling multiplied ten-fold, and I gasped unintentionally at the pain. I tried to lift my arms to grab my agonizing head, but I couldn't due to the cuffs. For the first time in a while, all I saw were yellows and oranges with no ruby tint. Almost as if I were being consumed by the Phoenix force itself. When I tried to breathe, all I got were smoke-filled lungs.

Suddenly there was a coolness at my lips, and then it was going down my throat. I think I choked on it a little, but it alleviated some of the burning, and I collapsed back in the bed as my vision cleared enough. Hank stood by with a glass of water in hand, his furrowed brow looked worried, despite how much he must have hated me right now. How much I hated myself.

Hank had his arms spread out as if he were ready for a fight. I just raised my eyebrows at him as I lay there feeling—and probably looking—weaker than I'd ever felt. He seemed to get the gesture and relaxed, somewhat. He said, "What's wrong with you?" just as he had before, but with much less malice, and more concerning my condition with a familiar scientific wonder he always had.

I blinked, still feeling the heat behind my eyes. "I need to release my optic blasts, and hopefully that will get rid of whatever is going on here."

The Hank I knew disappeared then, back into his unfeeling façade. "Cyclops, you've been unconscious for two days since you lost the Phoenix. We've been waiting for you to wake up so as to arrest you. The only reason you are here is to make sure there were no lasting effects of the Phoenix power. There is simply no way that I can allow you to have access to your power. You, of all people, should know that."

Closing my eyes, I focused on my breathing, thinking of strategy. Of course I didn't wish to escape or anything, but I did need to use my power. I could feel it building up inside me so strongly, I wasn't sure even my visor could keep it in.

"Hank," I spoke softly. "I need to pay for what I've done, and I will. But I need to open my eyes without my visor, or I am going to either die or destroy everything around me. You may not have known me as the Phoenix, Hank, but you do know who I am right now. Trust me."

He pursed his lips. "I do not trust you, Cyclops, and I may never trust you again. But if you are right, then the results could be…dissatisfying." Hank frowned at his own words but continued. "I will help you, but with conditions."

I nodded, relieved.

00000

Hank led me outside wherever we were (some kind of facility?) keeping my hands handcuffed together. The world was dark, the stars shining all around us like a symbol of hope. But I knew that hope had been broken right now, at least for me.

I wondered about Hope, then, and what had happened to her. Also, while my memory was still fuzzy, I vaguely remembered taking the Phoenix power from Emma. What became of her afterwards? I didn't kill her, did I? However, I didn't dare ask Hank anything else with the anger knew he was feeling right now.

He shoved me to my knees on the grass. I barely felt it. While a part of me knew that it wasn't necessarily me who killed Charles, I buried it, accepting utter blame for myself. It was what I deserved.

"Alright," Hank said, pressing something cold to the back of my neck, "if you even seem like you're about to turn those beams on anything but the sky, I won't hesitate to shoot you." I shivered at his tone. It was incredibly unnerving to hear Hank speak so flatly. I couldn't imagine what he must be going through, being betrayed by his leader.

His hands went to my face and removed the visor, but I squeezed my eyes shut, holding in my power.

I clenched my hands into fists. "Hank, I would never hurt you. Nor would I have hurt the Professor if I'd been in my right mind. Please, if you don't trust me, at least believe me. You did once."

There was a moment of quiet, and I listened to the soft sounds of crickets chirping and leaves rustling in the breeze. Then, finally, "There are no planes in the sky right now, Scott. You can open your eyes." It most certainly wasn't forgiveness, but it was nice to hear a hint of that kind tone in his words and in my name.

Thinking of what I'd lost because of it all sent a sudden rush of anger flooding through my body. It was so familiar to me, and I realized that I had been without it for nearly 15 minutes, at least. But I couldn't keep it out now. I was angry. I was furious. The world did this to us. People everywhere were so corrupt that they believed us mutants to be evil. While some of us were, that didn't justify killing or even hating us all. The Phoenix had been right, putting things in its place when it was a part of me. It was efficiently saving the mutants. It had brought peace.

While I had little idea where the anger erupted from, I felt a twinge of disbelief in my own thoughts, but I quickly brushed it aside. It was time to use my power. The heat in my body was getting to be unbearable, and it felt natural that in order to release that heat, I needed to open my eyes.

So I did.

Power surged through me and out of my eyes into the sky. Had anything been above me, it would have likely disintegrated under the extreme force I was emitting. The burning inside me dissipated as I predicted, leaving me room to finally feel like I could breathe. It was rare for me to release all my power like this, seeing how uncontrollably destructive it was. Not only that, but it was exhausting. I was unsure how long it had been, but I could feel my already weak body struggling to even sit up as I currently was. And then, just as I was about to close my eyes, my vision erupted into bright lights.

I blinked and found myself standing in khaki shorts and a Bermuda shirt. Lifting my unshackled hands, I found that I wore no glasses, nothing to shield my eyes from the world. And yet no red beams were blasting outward. In fact, I couldn't even feel the itchy pressure I usually did that reminded me power was there. The surrounding area was brightly lit by the sun, including a beach with the ocean nearby.

What was going on? One second I was Who-Knows-Where with Hank, now I was in this tropical looking area with no power? I could even feel the sun on my face it was so real.

"Hello, Scott."

I pivoted on my feet to find none other than Professor Charles Xavier standing before me. He, also, wore beach-appropriate clothing, right down to the flip flops. "Professor," I breathed out in disbelief. "Am I dead?

He smiled softly at me. "No, but I am."

Both guilt and anger rammed into me like a truck. I clenched my fists. "I was just doing what no one else would. Everyone seems to have forgotten our ultimate goal, but you know what? I haven't. So I had to do those things. To fix the world we live in. The Phoenix could have fixed everything if it hadn't been stopped." The words just tumbled out of my mouth as quickly as I could shoot beams from my eyes…which still weren't shooting for some reason.

Why was I saying this? Because I had to defend myself to him? The man had betrayed me enough. I had nothing to explain. Not to him.

The smile diminished and he stepped toward me. "I am truly sorry, Scott."

I turned away from him, hoping to appear upset, but really I just couldn't handle what was going on right now. It was as if every feeling I'd ever had was being thrown at me in the form of bricks. All of the pain that I had endured my whole life was… it was overwhelming. I, Scott Summers, had killed Charles Xavier. The man who'd been like a father to me, trusted me.

I could barely even recall the event. Clarity had lessened further and further as I had gained more of the Phoenix power. That fire I felt with it only fueled my long hidden anger and frustrations with the world. When Xavier threatened to shut me down, well, the Phoenix couldn't allow that. It wouldn't allow that.

And yet, at the same time, I felt that the others were right about me. It was my actions which led up to me killing Xavier. It was my fault, ultimately, right? Perhaps I deserved to die for it.

I wanted to die.

Then there was the other side of me that was so frustrated that it couldn't afford to be weak. I needed control.

"Sorry for what?" I spat out venomously, not daring face the Professor now. "Sorry for pushing the Phoenix over the edge? Sorry for taking my memories away? Sorry for threatening to take more from me?" Though I physically reacted to the anger in my words, I knew I was angrier at myself than anything. I wondered if Xavier's powers worked in this place—whatever it was.

A hand rested softly on my shoulder. "I am sorry for the pain you feel, and for my involvement in it."

My eyes burned from threatening tears. I couldn't tell if it was because of my animosity or the agony which fed it. "You've lied to me," I finally said in a flat voice. "You've lied to me, to the X-Men, and to yourself."

"You're right. If I were alive, I think I'd get myself a t-shirt saying 'Cyclops was right' on it1. When you aren't influenced by other forces, of course, you always are right, after all."

Remembering Magneto in a previous conversation I'd had, I whipped around to face my mentor. "You've been listening?"

A hint of a smile shown on his face. "I've always listened to you, Scott."

The tension I had felt for as long as I could remember, faded away. This wasn't real anyway, it couldn't be. Maybe it was time Scott Summers let his guard down just a little.

"How is this possible?" I asked him in a pathetically weak voice. "How are we talking if I'm not dead?"

Charles stepped back and dropped his arms at his side. The sun glinted off of his pale skin and bald head. It looked so real. "You know that while the sun feeds your power, it is actually released from another dimension2. Well, because of the excess Phoenix force inside of you, when you opened your eyes, you were able to enter that dimension. That is where we are now."

I widened my eyes in surprise. "That doesn't seem possible—sounds more like something Kurt could do. How are you here?"

"It seems that one's spirit comes here temporarily after death, but I am not certain."

The weight and accompanying tension fell on me again, and I sat abruptly on the warm sand, looking out at the ocean. So much had happen in so little time. I had done so much, caused so much chaos. Or perhaps my troubles began when I'd been possessed by Apocalypse. I'd certainly changed. Then there was Jean and Emma. I'd left Madelyne. Fought the Avengers. I sent my son away. And then I joined with the Phoenix and killed the Professor. What else was there for me? Surely I couldn't mess up anymore. Did I even have any friends anymore? Did anyone care about me at all?

Suddenly my vision swirled and I grasped my head. Hands were immediately at my own, and I heard, "Just breathe, Scott. You're alright. Relax."

I tried to focus my erratic breathing, not even having realized it was out of control. Once again, I couldn't believe what a mess I was.

"How long have you been getting anxiety attacks3, Scott?" I jerked my head up to see the Professor taking a seat next to me. My breathing eased.

"I'm sorry?" Rubbing my chest made me feel a little better, so that's what I did. "I don't get those."

The disbelieving expression on his face was visible, and I rested my head on my knees so I didn't have to look at him. "Scott, you have every reason to be distressed. What you need to do is remember all that I have taught you and calm your mind."

I stood up angrily. "Sorry, but I can't do that! For months, maybe even a year, I haven't been able to keep my calm, and that's what's tearing me apart! I can't sleep or think straight anymore. The only thing I can focus on is winning. Defeating the real monsters who are plaguing the world, because if I can do that, then maybe I'll finally be at peace for the first time in my life. No thanks to you."

Before, Charles might have returned my anger with his own, albeit more controlled, and he would have set me in my place. Instead he just stood up beside me with serenity. Then again, before all of this, I wouldn't have gotten so worked up as to lash out at him. Before, he would have been alive still.

"Scott, I haven't been here for long, but this place, away from the loud thoughts of the world, has finally allowed me to focus and find clarity. Perhaps that is why you are here as well, to find your own sense of clarity."

I closed my eyes and put a hand to cover them. "I can't do that," I said softly. "My mind is such chaos right now that I don't think even you could find a coherent thought."

"Be honest, Scott. Explain to me what has been going through your mind for a while now. Explain to me what has happened."

The wind seemed to pick up in this strange place. It certainly matched my frustrations. "Honesty? My whole life I have trained myself to steer clear from what I am honestly feeling. I can't effectively lead a team if I can't control myself! I've always been so careful, so distant from everyone, including Jean, because more than anything else in my life I am afraid of letting them down. My sole purpose to help the X-Men be free. I want that more than anything in my whole life."

I knew he was acting like a therapist or something, but when the Professor asked, "What changed?" I didn't even care about controlling my answer.

"I don't even know. It's as if there has always been this part of me that wanted to be allowed to feel something and do something about the wrongness with the world. All of this anger and fear that I have bottled up inside me just started coming loose." I ran my hands frantically through my hair, so frustrated with everything I could barely stand it.

"Why should we have to live like this? It isn't right that we fight and survive and fight some more. And now suddenly I find myself willing to go that extra mile I wouldn't have gone before to get things done. No matter the consequences. Because the consequence of losing everyone and everything that I care about seems far worse than anything else."

I collapsed to the ground, so worn down by my angst spout of emotion. Once more, the Professor sat beside me. He seemed careful not to say anything, knowing that I wasn't finished. Unfortunately.

"For so long, I have been able to control myself," I began once again, watching the ocean waves crash against the shoreline in a brilliant blue. "There used to be a line that I wouldn't cross to accomplish what we needed to, and now it is gone. I can't even see where it used to be. It's as if my moral compass has failed me, and all I can do is just not have any control at all." I turned to face Charles Xavier, not even caring that tears were finally spilling over my face. "Knowing what that lack of control has now cost me—us—now I'm afraid of myself just as much as I am of losing everything else."

Charles offered the hints of a smile toward me and ruffled my hair. "My boy, I think you finally found some of that clarity you were looking for."

A sigh fell out of me, along with all of the anger I had bottled up. He was right. I was certainly feeling like I could even glimpse how I used to be from before. It was familiar still. "I'm just so afraid of losing control again," I whispered.

He actually laughed. I jerked in surprise at that. "You have always been so concerned with control, Scott," he said. "When I first met you, I knew that you were going to be different from the others."

I rolled my eyes good naturedly. "Everyone is different, Professor."

"Yes, but you were a special case. You couldn't control your power."

"And I still can't. Is that the difference?"

His eyes were as warm as the sun, and so full of wisdom. "No, Scott. You have learned to control you powers, just like the others. The difference between you and them is that you still don't believe you can. You still fear them. Your power is also your greatest weakness, Scott. That is what separates you from the other X-Men."

I wore no smile now as his words settled.

"Scott, your desire to control everything around you stems from your power. Because you can't control it, you feel the need to control everything else. Just like your power, your emotions are either kept inside, or released completely. You need to find yourself again, Scott. Find your control."

Through the shock of what he just told me, I blinked rapidly, trying to figure it out. "I never…thought about it that way. How can I find control again?"

"You already have it. The problem is that you are controlling the wrong things."

I frowned, and he explained, "You used to focus on keeping yourself together, Scott. And because you could do so, you effectively led your team without controversy. Now you are so set on controlling the future of the mutants that you have lost sense of yourself—who you are and what you believe."

The sun seemed to be setting now, and I got the feeling I might not get to stay much longer. But I still had questions, things I needed to say. "Professor," I spoke cautiously, "I'm not sure I can give that up. After all, I am the main reason there are even mutants to save at this point."

He sighed, looking for the first time since I'd been talking to him mildly exhausted. "That is the rub indeed. There has been so much controversy in the things you've done, Scott. The things I've done. Neither of us are perfect and no one else is either. What you need to think about, Son, is the way you win, not the win itself. That is what separates us from the villains. That is what makes us heroes, X-Men." Charles patted my knee, a familiar glint in his eye. "It's what made you the best leader this world has ever seen, Scott."

I swallowed, suddenly nervous. "I've done some things. Things I'm not proud of. And I'm not sure I can ever make any of it right again—with myself or anyone else." The sand beneath me looked very interesting very quickly. "I fear that I have become the very thing I hate." Those last words fell from my lips in a whisper so soft, I was surprised he heard it at all.

A hand lifted my chin up to face him. I wondered when the last time was that I looked anyone directly in the eyes. "

He patted my knee. "Yes, but need to be able to trust that you can. You no longer trust yourself, Scott. And all that has happened has only fueled your lack of belief in yourself, resulting in your lack of control."

Before I could respond, my surroundings began to fade. Confused, I looked up at Charles. "It's time for you to go now, it seems," he said. "Make sure to tell Hank that his blue fur has never looked finer, by the way. He seems in doubt."

I wasn't ready. There was so much I hadn't said. We had just glossed over the fact that I killed him recently. "This is all my fault," I whispered. "Everything. Every death and loss that has happened these past few years have been my fault. I know it, and so does everyone else."

Charles put two strong hands on both his shoulders now and looked fiercely into his eyes which were seen without his glasses here. "What is it you always about having a Plan A?"

What did that have to do anything? It felt like my fingers were beginning to disappear, however, so I didn't ask him. I just answered. "It's Plan 1. Plan A implies that I only have 26."4

He chuckled at that. "Not everything is your fault, Scott. Things will work themselves out. Just remember what I told you, what I have taught you. And think about all of the plans you have. You control them, so find control."

His voice started fading away. I frantically reached for him, but found that I couldn't move. I couldn't even speak, now.

But Charles Xavier seemed to understand my panic. The last words I heard were, "I forgive you, Scott."

00000

I bolted upright, keeping my eyes instinctively closed in case of not having glasses on.

"Don't worry, I put your visor back on. How are you feeling?"

Opening my eyes, I saw Hank sitting in front of me with an unreadable expression. I wondered if not being able to see my eyes was frustrating for people.

I breathed in calmly, though I was freaking out underneath. "I just talked with Professor Xavier."

He frowned. Now I could tell what he was thinking. "Excuse me?"

I wanted to rub my face, but of course my hands were still linked together. Curse these handcuffs. My mind still wasn't quite wrapping around the fact that I had just talked with Xavier. And the fact that he forgave me was…practically unbelievable. Yet somehow it seemed right that he did. For all it was worth, that strange dimension really did offer clarity.

"Scott, what do you mean you talked with Charles?" Beast was clearly mortified by the idea. He probably thought I was delusional. Maybe I was.

"My powers…." I couldn't seem to get it out. It didn't even make sense to me. "I open a portal to another dimension whenever I use my powers, Charles said the leftover Phoenix force inside me must have been enough to send me there." I focused on my breathing, trying not to freak out. Again. Maybe I did have an anxiety problem coming up on me. Looking at Hank, I said, "I spoke with him. About so much. I… figured out some things."

Hank stared at me. "Scott, you didn't go into another dimension. You were here the whole time. Granted, you blacked out for a few minutes, but releases of so much power are bound to—"

"I know what I saw!"

He shook his head and sighed. "It was a dream. Nothing more."

Then I remembered something Xavier had said. "He told me to tell you that your blue fur still looks amazing. He said you were doubting yourself."

Hank shot me a look of alarm. "How did you—"

"McCoy!"

The two mutants turned to see Nick Fury headed their way with several armed men by his side.

It didn't take a telepath to tell that Fury was furious. "What are you doing out here with him, McCoy? You had specific instructions. I thought that was clear."

Hank tensed. "Look, there was a problem when he woke. I took necessary precautions. Everything is fine now, and we can take him."

All of the reconstructing I'd just had with a dead man in a fantasy world seemed to vanish as I reality hit me in the face. "Where are you taking me?"

Fury got in my face, almost snarling. "You're a criminal, Mr. Summers. You're going to prison, because that's where you belong."

And as they grabbed me, took me away, I thought, I'm not going to let them turn me into a criminal.5

Even as Hank stared at me, looking guilty from a distance as I was thrown into a truck, I knew this was not over. I would pay for my sins, but Cyclops was not finished yet.

Because, after all, Cyclops was right.

A/N: Here are the footnotes of what I took directly from Marvel

AvX: Consequences #2/Magneto #2

.com

Uncanny X-Men Vol. 3 #27

Uncanny X-Men Vol. 1 #541

AvX: Consequences #3

Please let me know what you think! Whoever happens to read this of course. I have some strong opinions about what happened in AvX with Cyclops. I don't read a lot of Marvel, but some of the X-Men stories are just the best. Thanks for readin!

-Kenxi