Characters: n/a
Disclaimer: I own none of these people. This is a simple fanfiction, no money's ever made by this. Trust me. If I knew how to make money off of them, I would since I'm a poor College student. But I don't have any money, don't bother suing, everyone knows that the Marvel universe owns all rights. If you try to sue me, all you'll get is a beanie baby, a CD of Bjork, and three stale doritos. I don't own the rights of the aforementioned either, so don't sue me over that either :)
Personal note: I was depressed while writing this and listening to X-Japan's "Crusify Your Love" over and over and over.
The Phoenix Always Rises
All I can seem to think about lately is that moronic statement "The Phoenix will always rise," and how it's affecting my own fragile mind currently. The legends say that the Phoenix was a mythological bird that was consumed in flames, then rose from the ashes to be born once more. The image of the Phoenix rising from it's ashes always brought the image of eternal hope. Of never ending determination. Of awesome strength.
The only thing I can honestly say that is true about this Phoenix is that she's tired. Tired of the pain. Tired of the hopelessness. Tired of the loss.
I was once called Phoenix, but it wasn't me. It was an image of me, an entity parading around as me while I was really comatose underneath the Bay. He loved her just as he had me, because she wanted to become me in every way. I imagine for him it was something past euphoria, loving a Goddess and all. But that immense power contained in such a fragile body of that of a human drove her mad. She killed, she reveled in it, and she made others think she was me. She sacrificed herself eventually, but when I returned, fully healed, the damage had been done. I learned of the Phoenix and her actions, and I was thoroughly disgusted with her. I considered the name 'Phoenix' to be nothing short of bad karma. It wasn't hope or rebirth that killed billions in another part of the galaxy simply because she wanted to have lunch.
Even Scott had changed. All be it, he didn't have the easiest time after my "death," he mourned, moved on (to a clone of me, no less), even had a child. With my return, he left Madelyn, left his son, left everything to come back only to distrust me. His wife went mad and turned evil, his son was infected with a techno-organic virus and was sent into the future, and then there was me to deal with. He didn't know what to believe. Was I Jean Grey, former friend, teammate, and lover, or was I the Phoenix back from the dead, reborn to live again? I tried to prove I was Jean. Not Phoenix, not Madelyn, just plain Jean Grey. After beating it into his head, we were finally together once more.
Together with Scott, I faced the world anew. Beginning over again, new troubles, new allies, new friends. We faced the usual problems. Living with multitudes of different people under one roof, Danger Room sessions to learn to use our mutant abilities to their fullest, and facing off against the usual Madman/psychopath/future dictator or any other mutant bent on world domination.
Like I said, usual problems.
But even there comes a time for happiness, and I got my chance one day. After dating for years, we finally were married. Scott and I had the most perfect wedding in history, to me at least, and I just wish everyone I loved attended. Everyone was there, but there was one man whom was just watching over instead of joining in the happiness. But to him, I guess, it wasn't a happy occasion.
But all the happy times we went through...
All the moments of tenderness...
Even the moments of pain and anger...
...never before had I even realized I might lose him someday.
In honour of my possible future daughter in a different timeline, I adopted the codename Phoenix, even though I believed it was cursed with bad karma. It was the least I could do for, in all essence, the perfect daughter I never had.
I fought alongside Scott like always, defending a dream all X-Men shared. Then, 12 of us became the "Chosen" which changed everything in my world. Scott and I were among the chosen mutants to fight off Apocalypse in a momentous fight. In the blink of an eye, my world seemed to shatter like it was simply made of thin sugar glass.
The equation was simple enough. Heroic Martyr who still felt the deep scars of sacrificing his son all those years back and seeing Nate Grey being fused with Apocalypse. There was simply one choice he could have made, and that was all it took. He jumped in the way.
In that instant, everything changed. Scott. The only man I ever loved with such a passion that I would sacrifice anything and everything for just apparently killed himself to save Nate. I don't think the initial shock set in until I heard the 'I love you' for the last time through our shared repport as he jumped into the energy between Nate and Apocalypse ... and by then, everything I could have done was just simply too late. The energy field was gone, our repport was gone, and Scott ... he too was gone.
Now I reside in our small house on the mansion grounds, feeling the emptiness I am sure Scott felt when I apparently died all those years back. I don't touch the pictures adorning the tables and walls we put up. Some of Nathan, some of Rachel, but mostly either us together or individual pictures scattered here and there. They remind me of him, and every time I think about him I break down into tears. It's not like I want to dwell on this pain, but even if the pictures weren't here to remind me, just the sights would do that for me, too. And, if it came down to nothing else, the cold solitude I feel by just being myself. No more connection to a comforting thought when I'm depressed, or hearing sweet nothings being whispered at the back of my mind when I'm happy. No more connection to his feelings, no more connection at the most intimate level a person could ever get with someone else. In short, I'm half a soul now, just a shell of who I once was.
The Professor has tried searching for his mental imprint all over the world, but he tells me he's not found any traces of him. I know I sound crazy when I tell others, but I seriously think he's alive out there. Somewhere. Waiting for me to find him. The others don't really understand, I know I'm not hearing things. If I were, I'd know it wasn't him, but simply me trying to convince myself that he's still out there.
I don't know, maybe I am a bit crazy. I get the feeling of his aura around me sometimes, wanting to hold me as I cry. The endless nights of passing out on our bed only to dream of the day of his death and when I awaken, the other side of the bed is cold. I feel the void in my heart, my senses being dulled to the point I can't even tell if it's night or day any longer, instead I concentrate on the feeling in my mind, my soul, that he's trying to find me.
This Phoenix, I doubt, will rise from this. I simply haven't the strength he had to go on, to move out into the world instead of wallow in his misery. All I can do is wait until he returns. I know others have lost loved ones to death, and I now understand their despair. To reach out in the night and finding only cold sheets, realizing the trueness of reality, and breaking out into anger and tears about how powerless you really are. No ... I'm not rising this time. He was my strength, my reason to fight for this world. If he's really gone forever then...
The legends states that the Phoenix was a mythological bird that was consumed in flames, then rose from the ashes to be reborn. Only time will tell if I am able to rise from my own ashes once more and overcome my overwhelming depression and animosity towards Fate.
Only time will tell...