Laughter bubbled inside of her, giggles threatening to escape. She was enthralled and delighted with her own daring. The wind blew through her hair, tangling it around her face, and the slap of bare feet on pavement echoed in her ears. Her bare feet, Annabelle's bare feet, their bare feet running together. Behind them were her mother's watchful eyes. Behind them was bossy Sarah. Behind them were the scraped knees of an older sister and a fussy mother with a first aid kit. Behind them were strands of hair caught in the growth of a shrub. Her straight red locks, Annie's brown curls, their soft wisps of hair lost during their daring escape. Here there were dolls clutched in sweaty palms, and small rips in her skirt and Annie's overalls. Here there was rough pavement beneath small feet, and wind, and a best friend. Their hands entwined, hers and Annie's, clasped together. Ahead, well, she didn't know what was ahead, but perhaps Annie knew. Besides, this was an adventure. Annie said so.
She hesitated when they came to the street. She wasn't allowed to cross, not without her mother or father, or Sarah. Annie squeezed her hand and grinned big and bright, "don't worry," she said, "you can be brave." She bit her lip with a smile and nodded her head, eyes sparkling with delight, "I am brave." It was not true. She was not brave like Annie, but Annie was her best friend, so she just laughed and tugged her across the street. Together they ran, down the next block, and the next, and the next, until she was sure her lungs would break, and her legs would collapse. Annie just turned the corner, "Come on, you can be strong." She could see the school now and wondered, with a hint of disappointment if this was their destination. They ran further, through the playground, and she began to wonder if they would ever stop. "Come on," gasped Annie, "wait 'til you see what I found!" They approached a line of trees, behind which she had never been. It was not allowed. She hesitated again. Annie turned to her, but she panted out quickly, "It's OK, I just need to breathe." She could be daring.
They pushed through the thicket, their small bodies weaving with ease through the trees. She beheld what her friend showed off so ecstatically. It was a small run down shack. "We can have our own secret fort!" Annie exclaimed. "Oh, but…" she began to reply. Surely, surely, this, they could not have. "It's OK," Annie replied, "it's not locked. I think it's abandoned. No one cares if we go in. Besides, sometimes it's OK to be a little bit naughty." "Alright," she said and pushed ahead of her friend. There were train tracks nearby so they would play a game, with robbers, a queen who falls victim, and a handsome rescuer. She wanted to be the queen but Annie nixed the idea, "The queen just lies there, make her your doll. You can be the adventurous hero, and I'll be the robber. Robbers are better than heroes anyhow." She disagreed, after all, wasn't the point of a hero that they were the best of them all? "The robber tied the queen to the tracks," is her argument. "But he wouldn't really hurt her," Annie explained, "he just needs to get the ransom and he'll let her go." "But the hero always out-smarts the robber and saves the queen," she argued back. "Only because the robber lets him," Annie smugly proclaimed, "while the hero unties her, the robber sneaks away with all the gold." "But the hero's the good guy," she continued to protest, although now she thinks she'd rather be the robber. "What fun is that?" Annie laughed, "he never does anything, just sits around, waiting for the queen to get into trouble. The robber is always up to something exciting." She thought that maybe Annie really should be the robber, because they were so much alike, and she thought maybe she would still like to be the robber and be the one who is always up to something exciting, instead of following the rules.
It began to get dark and a man came, opened the door and disrupted their game. "What are you kids doin' in here?" he asked quite shocked, "I knew I should have fixed that broken lock." The girls both trembled, realizing they had been caught. "Come on up to the school," the man said, "we'll call you parents and they can come get ya." She suddenly realized that her mother would be looking for them and pulling Annie up with her, they made a mad dash. "Get back here!" the man shouted, "it's not safe for little girls to be running around by themselves in the dark!"
They ignored his warnings and ran faster, having long forgotten their dolls. Neither girl hesitated as they crossed the streets without looking. Finally, finally, she saw her house. Just as she heard the squeal of slammed brakes, Sarah ran into the yard, "Where have you been?!?" Sarah had called before screaming. She whirled around, looking for Annie. Annie was on the ground and she thought it was a strange time to rest. Then she noticed the street was glossy and wet. She did not really comprehend that the wet was her best friend's blood. She only knew that Annie would not get up and that Sarah was screaming for their mother. She did not realize she was speaking, as she babbled on, "You'll be OK. My mom's going to call 911 and you'll be just fine. You'll see." She reached out to her friend with all she had, cradling Annie's body, and wanting to make everything right. She wanted to make them best friends on an adventure again, make them partners, almost as though they were really one person. She did not realize she was being brave, she did not realize she was being strong, Annie was those things, but maybe, maybe, robbers did not win in the end.
Her world shifted and she was not sure quite how. Suddenly she was not on the street covered in her best friend's blood. Suddenly she was someplace quite bright and also quite dark, and Annie was there, she knew but could not see her. It was as if they really had become one. She was frightened but she could hear Annie whispering at her to be brave, or maybe she was the one encouraging Annie. She could feel them being separated and tried to hold on, but Annie, her best friend Annie, slipped from her grasp. Then came pain, and darkness, and confusion, and millions of thoughts, that she was sure could not be her own. It was too much. She sank further into the darkness, drowning in the noise, until she heard no more.
Later, much later, she felt herself being drawn back from the black, and when she awoke it was to greet a strange face. Not Annie, nor Sarah, nor even her fussy mother or strong, silent father. His head was shiny, like a bowling ball, and he wore a neatly pressed suit with his elbows resting on the arms of his wheel chair. "Welcome back," he greeted calmly, as though this were all quite normal. She was no longer wearing her dirty, torn play skirt but rather a funny pair of pajamas. There was something stuck in her arm and something stuck down her throat. She thought perhaps this was all a dream. "I'm afraid not, my child" the man said sadly, "this was not a dream. None of it was a dream. I'm sorry, but Annie is gone."
Her mother sobbed over her, repeating over and over again, "My baby, my baby, thank God you're all right." She was not all right but did not know how to tell her mother. She was told that she had been in a coma for over two years. She was told that she had been saved by the bald doctor. She was told that she had powers, special gifts and that she must have special classes with him every weekend so that she would not hurt herself with them again. She was not told where Annie had gone. Annie was dead, no one would say more than that, though her mother offered to have their pastor speak with her and her father took her to see Annie's grave. Only the doctor, whom she now called professor, would admit they simply didn't know what happened when someone, "left this plane of existence," as he put it. She was certain that Annie had gone somewhere, after all, Annie had not become less than she was. Annie had simply moved away when she lost her hold. What good were these powers when they could not save her best friend? Still, by fairy tale logic, this would make her the hero she supposed. She had powers and obeyed the rules. She always obeyed the rules now. She wanted to be the robber. Annie was right, it was no fun to be a hero.
She grew up. Most children do. She was never quite as bold or daring as she had been before she learned that consequences are not always directly proportional to the severity of the crime. She stayed on the sidewalk, wore her bike helmet, and always, always, looked both ways before crossing the street. She caught up with her classmates in almost no time. She had always been rather gifted academically. She eventually excelled in her schoolwork and graduated as valedictorian before going on to medical school. She always had to be pushed into doing anything competitive though. She always had to have somebody supporting her, even if it was just the little voice she could hear whispering, "Don't be such a scaredy-cat!"
She went from her parents' to the professor's and even met her prince charming. He was polite, dashing, and well-mannered. He followed the rules, but was bold and brave and rescued damsels in distress. He did not laze about waiting for someone to need rescuing, but kept busy, kindly nurturing and teaching. He saved people quietly as well as boldly. She had not even realized that both ways were necessary. He was ever vigilant but had a laid-back sense of humor beneath his straight-lace exterior, that she often forgot was there. She took it for granted, thinking only of his even temper and sense of duty. He was what she wanted, a knight in shining armor. Every girl wanted a night in shining armor. She had become the queen. She was supposed to be the hero. She wanted to be the robber.
People encouraged her to be a hero. Her teacher pushed her to use her gifts. Her prince stayed always by her side, in case she stumbled. People told her that she was smart. People told her that she was beautiful. People told her that she was talented and could do anything she wanted. People even told her that she was powerful. No one told her that she was brave. No one knew that was what she really wanted to hear. Only the quiet voice telling her, "Don't worry, you have nothing to fear." She was supposed to speak to congress. It really was very important, she needed to defend her people. Her throat got stuck. She could not think of any counter arguments. She could not argue so combatively. But the little voice disagreed, "you can be strong." She was not though. She never would be.
Her prince charming had run off playing hero again and he brought back a prize. Something for her to clean and care for. She had never felt so uncertain. She was drawn to this man on the table, entranced by him. She could tell, just tell he was a robber. He might play the hero, but she could tell from looking that he was the robber. Yet the young, soft-spoken woman, with whom he traveled, assured her, by her very presence, that Annie was right. The robber would not really let harm come to the queen.
Her teacher was on his back. He was not there when he was needed most. The voice in her head called to her, "It's time, it's time to be daring." This time she listened. This time she was strong. She was successful, but it hurt. She was relieved to feel her prince lifting her up when she stumbled. He did not chastise her, merely made sure she was ready to get back to her feet. The robber was off fussing over his doe-eyed princess.
There was a mission to save the princess, who was apparently even more helpless than the queen. She would go, unusual as it was, the queen would step into the hero's shoes once more. The queen traveled with them as they prepared for battle, the prince, the robber, and the warrior. The robber was intent on nothing but getting to his princess. The warrior fought bravely to protect her people. The queen got slimed in the face and the prince had to save her.
It was not over. It could not be over until the fate of the princess was decided. Her prince was disarmed, her warrior restrained, but the robber could not be stopped and she heard the robber call to her for help, telling her without words, not that she could be brave, but that she was brave.
Her prince trusted her and that saved them. Only the princess was left. The queen's strength faltered again. The voice cried, "It's OK. Sometimes it's OK to be a little risky." She could not listen to it again. She could not trust her prince as he trusted her. She nearly dragged the kingdom under with her. Her prince though, was a hero. He could be bold, even if it meant disobeying the queen. Her robber was strong and brave and determined to play the hero and rescue the princess. They won.
Somehow it was decided that she was a hero after all, not a queen. Her prince was there, as always, but her thoughts drifted constantly to the robber. She had learned that he only knew how to save boldly, not quietly. She was changing, she knew it, even if no one else quite realized it. She felt a power within her self, not unfamiliar, but hotter, greater than before, and expanding. It was not growing, but merely dispersing, moving into a larger, less confined area. It became less dense, no longer locked up tight with all her fears, but encompassed her fully.
Her prince and her warrior friend could not help but notice that something was different. They questioned her and she attempted to allay their fears. She was once again finding joy in small feats of daring. She was allowing her wariness to slip away as her fire burned brighter within her. Her quiet companion's encouragements ever present, ever stronger. She was a hero. She would no longer be a queen. She wanted to be a robber.
She betrayed her prince, flirting with the robber. She fought with the robber, betraying her heart. She was strong. She did what she was asked, but never any more than that. She still held back. When she stumbled her prince was there to carry her. "Don't hold back, you can be strong," the voice whispered to her.
The story was ending wrong. The villain had escaped and the heroes were going to die. She could no longer fool herself, her robber was a hero. Her warrior was a hero. Her prince was a hero. Her children might yet become heroes. She was a hero. She wanted to be a robber. She wanted to out-smart them all.
She could do it. She could feel the power burning within her. She could be strong. She could be bold. She could be daring. She could fix the ending. She would not be the one left to clean up the blood. She ignored her prince trying to save her. She rebuked her teacher's feeble attempts to stop her. She stopped holding back. The power within her was bright and dark and strong and weak and terrifying and exhilarating. Maybe, if she gave herself over to it she could see where Annie went. She did not even feel the weight of the water crushing her frail bones. She did not feel it steal her breath. She only felt the heat, the flames of her own self.
When the fire consumed her she did not know where it came from; but she thought, maybe, it came from a child whispering in her ear, "Come on Jean, you can be brave."
Author's Note: I don't really know where this came from. I don't even like her character (at least not in movieverse). I was just re-watching the first two movies yesterday and started thinking about how movieverse Jean is a far cry from the strong independent comicverse version of the character. It's kinda sad how her character got reduced. (I haven't seen X-3, so if it's any better let me know.) Feel free to criticize (like I could stop you), this was a strange experiment.