Disclaimer: I do not own the X-Men. Please do not sue me or steal my story.
Thanks!
NOTE: One of the characters in this gets really mad and uses a nasty word. But, I think he can be forgiven given the circumstances.
The Melody of the Stars by Rowena
It is that still, timeless moment just before the dawn. The nighttime sky is purpling in the East, the stars twinkling with a graceful ferocity-- almost as though they know their time to shine is growing short. The chill wind whistles through the tall pines, the soft sound blending with the gentle rippling of the lake as it brushes lightly, almost teasingly against the water's smooth surface.
Slowly, a bird joins in. A sharp, sweet sound, calling to the earth and the sky and the water, welcoming the sun to a new morning. A second bird sings out, then a third, a fourth...even the cawing of the crows and the warbling of the loons have their place in the delicate harmony of this song.
The breeze picks up. A broken tree branch swings against the trunk of its tree, weaving a rhythmic beat that sets the toes of the snowy rabbits tapping. The squirrels chatter in the treetops, the song is swelling now. As the fish leap and splash, silver against the slowly brightening sky, the melody takes on a new dimension--one of light and color, a spectacular show that brings the sleepy deer out to blink in reverence, hoping to catch a glimpse of the song's mysterious conductor.
A slender line of brilliant light appears along the horizon, coloring the sky above in brilliant shades of pink, red, gold, and orange. But the stars are still there, and it is they who are calling out the most insistently, with the most passion. For, they know this song. Only they have heard it, only they have sung it, and only those who have lived among the stars could carry this gentle, wild melody with them, inspiring its harmonious tones in others.
There is a stirring at the bottom of the lake. Sound travels remarkably well underwater and the celestial melody carries a message within it, a message that must be delivered to ears that cannot hear, eyes that cannot see, and a heart that cannot beat. The body of the Earth woman is dead, frozen and lifeless at the bottom of the deep, dark lake. It remains perfect and untouched, despite the fact that it has lain there long enough for winter to arrive, then leave, and then come again. The fish dare not swim by this place, the scavenger crabs avoid it. Even they can sense a mysterious power slowly awakening in the frozen cells of her still body, a power otherworldly, alien.
Far above, the song has reached its crescendo. A strange, fiery glow sparks, then flares up around this frozen woman. It is a fire burning brightly underwater, a fire without heat, and it consumes nothing but her.
A dim, orange glow appears at the surface of the lake. The singers are excited now, the audience breathless with anticipation. The message is clear, it is insistent, it has found its target.
Impossibly, the eyelids of the frozen woman fly open, but beneath is only fire. Slowly, her arms spread out, flames licking along their slender length, twirling between her long fingers. Her mouth opens as though she is screaming, her wide, fiery eyes hold a wild, untamed passion terrifying to behold. Her mind awakens, her frozen blood begins to flow, a horrible, agonized stinging as her entire body forces itself back to life.
She rises to her feet, her movements slow and graceful in the dark water, almost as though she is moon walking. She tilts her head, taking in her surroundings with a distant curiosity. Then, with the power of a single thought, she is rising, breaking the surface of the water, a flaming meteor falling backwards from the earth into the atmosphere.
The song dies down but the primal energy remains. The gathered animals watch in awe as high above the ominous form of a fierce, flaming bird lights up the sunrise, obscuring the twinkling stars from view. It is a vision as beautiful as it is terrible. The rabbits run for their burrows, the deer flee in a panic. Birds flock away, screaming in fear and wonder.
The Phoenix has risen. The untamable celestial being has merged itself with the body, dreams, and aspirations of a human woman. The power fills her, but she can control it, it consumes her but she is willing to feed its hunger. She is Phoenix, and Phoenix has become Jean Grey.
*******
Miles away and miles below a man wakes from a restless sleep, shooting up from his pillow in a panic. The visions that had filled his mind, the alien melody that had touched his soul--these had not been a dream. He had seen these things through the eyes of another, through a precious telepathic link he had shared with a woman he had believed to be nearly two years dead. There had been color and depth to those images, and for almost as long as he can remember, Scott Summers has only been able to see the world around him in shades of red, flattened and slightly distorted by the faceted lenses of the ruby-quartz visor he wears even in sleep.
Jean is alive. Jean is alive and she is calling to him.
Scott doesn't even stop to think. He rushes from his room, tearing down the plush corridor and leaping down the flights of stairs like a young boy on Christmas morning.
His unheeding thumping and bumping, leaping, falling, and slipping wake two other restless sleepers. They open the doors to their respective rooms, sharing a worried, curious look and then a nod. One vanishes in a BAMF of sulfurous smoke. The other extends his long, deadly claws with a metallic SNIKT. Although the first arrives at his destination long before the second, crouching in the shadows of the high, foyer ceiling, both are there to witness the moment when Scott wrenches open the front door to the old, elegant mansion and stares into the fiery eyes of the woman he had loved as his second self.
"Jean...?"
It is barely a whisper, his throat too tight, his pulse too rapid to allow for anything more. He stands there panting, his knee and shoulder aching dully where he had crashed against several low tables and a wall in his haste to reach the door.
The wild flames fade from the woman's eyes, her own dark irises gleaming with emotion as she affectionately regards the gaping man before her, tossing her short, red hair with a self-assurance she had never before displayed.
"Hello, Scott," she says, a small smile quirking her lips as she spreads her arms with an almost apologetic shrug. "I'm back."
Scott is frozen. Even his thoughts can't move. It is the shadowy teleporter on the ceiling who is the first to regain his voice. He flips easily to the hardwood floor, his long tail twitching in apprehension and wonder as he approaches her.
"Doktor Grey?" he asks, his golden eyes wary, his gentle voice tinted with a soft, German accent. "Is that really you?"
Phoenix turns her gaze to the slender, blue man before her, his lithe, slightly stooped figure nearly invisible in the dimness of the foyer. Slowly, her eyes widen in recognition.
"Kurt?" she asks, her slight smile broadening. "How's the arm?"
"Was?" the man asks, confused. "My arm--?" Suddenly, he breaks off, understanding lighting his golden eyes. "Ach," he nods. "It has healed remarkably well, danke. There is barely even a scar."
"I'm glad to hear it," she says, turning back to Scott. "So, are you going to let me in?"
Scott blinks behind his glasses, stumbling backwards to allow her entry. Phoenix breezes past him, her eyes landing on the third occupant of the small room.
"How are you, Logan?" she asks, her eyes narrowing slightly as he cautiously sniffs the air, his face stern and unwelcoming.
"Your scent's off," he tells her bluntly, his arms crossed over his chest. He is tense and alert, ready to unleash his claws at any moment. "Who are you? Just what kinda crazy stunt are you tryin' to pull?"
Phoenix tilts her head, picking up on the anger, confusion, and crushing grief from these men Jean once considered her friends. Their reactions confuse her. She had expected her arrival would make them happy.
"I am Phoenix," she says simply, looking at each of them in turn. "It was I who saved you and your jet from the waters of Alkali Lake. Your comrade's sacrifice impressed me, and I found I could not let her die. So, I merged with her. Now we are one. I am Phoenix, but I am also Jean Grey."
Scott can only stare. He can feel his heart breaking all over again. For a brief, breathless moment, it had seemed as though his dream had come true. It had seemed his desperate, hopeless prayers had been answered. Jean had shown up at the door, alive and smiling. But this woman isn't Jean. She looks like Jean, sounds like Jean, smiles like Jean. But this isn't the woman he had grown up with. This is a stranger, looking out at him through the mask of his beloved's eyes.
Scott can't hear, he can't think. The images he woke up to make sense now. Jean truly had died. That had been her body lying frozen at the bottom of Alkali Lake. Somehow, this Phoenix-whatever-it-was had resurrected her body and taken it for itself.
Scott clenches his teeth, his anger building into a towering rage. His eyes flash dangerously, causing his visor to glow a brilliant red.
"How dare you," he snarls, his voice starting low then rising to a near scream, hot tears streaming down his anguished face as he advances on the startled Phoenix. "How DARE you! You should have left her in peace! What gives you the right to take over her body?! What kind of a sick, twisted thing is this?! You are not Jean!"
"I am Phoenix," Phoenix repeats. "And I am Jean. This was a choice we both made, and it was not made lightly. I had hoped you would be happy to see me."
"HAPPY!" Scott exclaims, his expression twisted with fury. "You pull a crazy stunt like you did at Alkali Lake, and then, nearly two YEARS later, you turn up at the doorstep and make a bullshit announcement like that and you expected me to be HAPPY! God, Jean--Phoenix--I don't even know who you are!"
Kurt teleports over to his sobbing friend, resting a gentle hand on his shuddering shoulder. Scott shrugs him off with a vicious snarl, struggling to contain his turbulent emotions.
"I shall wake Herr Professor," Kurt says softly, speaking to Logan. "Perhaps he will know how to deal with this situation."
Logan gives a short nod as the teleporter vanishes in a flash of smoke, his flinty, distrustful eyes focused on Phoenix. Yet inside, his emotions are in an uproar that mirrors Scott's. There is no doubt in Logan's mind that the woman before him is telling the truth. Her scent confirms her story. It is Jeannie's scent, but there is something more to it, something strange and powerful and completely alien that makes all the hair on Logan's arms stand on end. Whatever this Phoenix is, it did not originate on Earth. The being looking at him through Jeannie's beautiful eyes is a real, live extra- terrestrial.
*******
BAMF!
Ororo Munroe sits up in bed, rubbing the sleep from her eyes as she turns to face her early-morning visitor.
"Kurt," she smiles, her sleepy face warm with affection. "If you've come as my replacement alarm clock, I'm sorry to disappoint you but I was just waking up anyway."
Kurt smiles in return, but there is no humor in it. Ororo notices, concern darkening her mocha features as she slowly pulls on her slippers.
"What is it?" she asks, peering up at him with narrowed, blue eyes.
"Ororo," Kurt starts, uncertain as to how to broach the subject. Jean had been Ororo's closest friend. He doesn't want to hurt her with his news...
"Tell me, Kurt," Ororo demands, striding over to where he is standing nervously hunched in the shadows. "If something's wrong, I want to know."
"Meine Liebe," Kurt tries again. "What I have to say may come as something of a shock..."
"You're not about to tell me you've found someone new, are you?"
Kurt's golden eyes widen, his tail lashing behind him in startled agitation. "Was?! Nein! Never! Ororo, you know how I--"
Ororo shakes her snowy head, cutting him off by taking his hand in hers. "I know, Kurt," she assures him, kissing the tip of one thick, blue finger. "I was only teasing. Why don't you just get to the point and tell me what's wrong?"
Kurt stares at his hand in hers, appreciating the contrast of mocha against indigo, then closes his eyes with a sigh, struggling to find the best way to phrase what he has to say.
"A woman has just arrived," he tells her, his accented voice soft. "She calls herself Phoenix. But..." he hesitates a moment, meeting her eyes with deep compassion. "She looks like Doktor Grey."
Ororo gasps, her grip tightening until her nails dig painfully into his skin. Kurt represses a wince, reaching out with his other hand to gently loosen her grip and sandwich her hand between his.
"But she isn't..." Ororo stutters, "She can't be..."
"I cannot claim to understand any of this myself," Kurt tells her, "but Herr Professor is with her now, as are Doktor McCoy, Logan, and Scott. I felt that, since Doktor Grey was your friend, you should not be kept in the dark about this."
Ororo's crystal eyes flash. "You were absolutely right," she says. "Take me to them, right now. I want to see this Phoenix for myself."
Kurt nods, gently wrapping her in a close embrace as his tail twines securely around her slender waist.
"Ready?" he asks.
"Go," she nods.
A look of total concentration comes over Kurt's scarred, indigo face. With a BAMF of smoke, the two of them are gone.
*******
In the quiet aftermath of her explanation, Phoenix looks around at her gathered friends, noting the slight differences the years have brought to their familiar faces. They are no longer the same people she left behind. But then, she is no longer the woman they knew.
Phoenix knows the message carried by the celestial song. She carries it within her at all times, the wisps of melody she catches on the breeze quickening her blood and soothing her mind.
There is one constant in the universe, a single aspect that affects all things, living and non-living, celestial and earth-born. Ironically, that constant is change, and that is the message sung by the stars. All things change, nothing is ever truly the same from one moment to the next. Dust piles up in an empty house, subatomic particles shift their positions, mountains crumble into sand which sticks to the toes of growing children.
Phoenix knows change, but has never before viewed it subjectively. To Phoenix, change has never been good or bad, right or wrong. Change just 'was'. It was a part of Phoenix, yet it was also apart from Phoenix. It had never before touched Phoenix's core.
But now, Phoenix has been changed. She is no longer merely a care-free energy being.
The earth-woman's thoughts had called to Phoenix, drawing the celestial avatar down from space, and through her Phoenix had begun to understand what it meant to feel, to care about other beings. Phoenix had reached out to her, playfully at first but then with more intensity. When the earth- woman strove to use her own paltry powers to hold back the raging waters of a collapsing dam--not for her own safety but to allow her friends to get out alive--Phoenix had felt compelled to assist. Through this woman, Phoenix had learned what it was to fear, to hope, to love, and ultimately to die.
Phoenix's offer to merge with her had been an act of pure compassion, an act the celestial avatar never before would have been capable of, and the woman's acceptance had filled Phoenix with a joy the celestial being had never believed could exist. The merge had taken nearly two years to complete, but the human concept of time had always seemed inconsequential to the immortal Phoenix.
Now, Phoenix is human. She is the woman, Jean Grey. Phoenix shares her memories, her body, her voice--her spirit has merged with Phoenix's own. Suddenly, change means a great deal to her, and not just as a primal force to be sung about and respected. For the first time, Phoenix is finding she wants a hand in shaping how things turn out. She wants to make a difference in the world she now calls her own. Phoenix now realizes that this strange, human concept of time is actually a way of measuring change, and she doesn't want to waste a moment of her new life.
The man Jean knows as Professor Xavier understands this. He understands it all. Phoenix can feel her eyes filling with tears as she feels his acceptance roll over her, filling her mind with relief.
"We would be honored if you choose to remain with us," the Professor is saying in response to the question she had ended her story with, turning to the rest of his X-Men to gauge their reactions.
Phoenix can feel their thoughts in her mind. Slowly, very slowly, they are overcoming the shock, grief, confusion and anger her sudden appearance had sparked. Those feelings are now being replaced by curiosity, slight trepidation, and even a hint of acceptance. Phoenix smiles, a small, gradual beam, looking into each of their eyes in turn. She almost grins when she sees Ororo sitting with Kurt, her heart warming to know her lonely friend has finally found someone she can be close to, someone who loves her for herself rather than her power and whom she is only just starting to realize she has fallen in love with in return.
Phoenix's smile fades, however, when her eyes fall on Scott, standing stoic and stiff by the side of the Professor's wheelchair. Phoenix feels Jean's love for him swelling within her heart and her eyes widen with the sudden upsurge of emotion. It hurts her to see him in such pain, and it is killing her to know that she is the cause.
Jean's love for Scott runs deep, deeper than even she had realized. When Phoenix steps toward him, that action is Jean's. Jean reaches out to him, taking his hand with a gentle squeeze. And, it is Jean who smiles warmly into his stoic face, reaching up to brush an errant strand of hair away from his visor.
"Can you hear my thoughts?" she asks him, her voice soft, a small smile tugging at her lips.
Scott's eyes widen behind his visor, his mouth hangs slightly agape. Jean uses the special mind link the two of them have forged to communicate with him directly, filling him with the love she feels and is no longer too shy or frightened to express.
"Oh, my God," Scott breathes, pulling her into his arms and squeezing her tightly to him, rocking her slightly as he kisses her brilliant, red hair. "Jean!"
The tears that leak from behind his visor now are tears of pure joy as he sends his love back to her in full. As the two of them lean in for a tender, passionate kiss, the Professor gestures to the others, suggesting that perhaps it would be best to leave the two of them alone for a while.
Ororo and Kurt share a grin, his tail reaching out of its own accord to wind affectionately around her waist, pulling her close as they creep softly from the room, arm in arm. Hank and the Professor follow just behind.
Logan stands for a moment, watching the reunited lovers with surprisingly soft eyes. The impossible has happened. Jeannie has come back to them. To Logan's surprise, though, he finds he is not hurt by her choice. He had cared for her, and deeply, but what they had shared was not love. At least, not the kind he was seeing right now.
Slowly, a bright smile creeps across Logan's scruffy face. He is happy for them, and he carries no bitterness toward Scott. If Jeannie wants to marry a stuck-up prick, that's her business. Logan is just glad to have her back, safe and sound, even if they never will be anything more than good friends.
The mansion is awakening now, the children tumbling blearily out of their beds and heading for the growing shower lines. Their shouts and laughs, thumps and giggles echo down to the foyer as the air fills with the good smells of breakfast wafting in from the kitchen.
All this is lost to Scott and Jean, however. They are aware of nothing but each other, their world extending no farther than the glow in the other's eyes. The sun has risen and the stars have faded from the sky. But, far beyond the Earth's thick atmosphere the celestial forces continue their eternal song, enfolding the lovers in its delicate harmonies.
All too soon, Jean breaks their kiss, looking through Scott's ruby-quartz visor and straight into his eyes.
"So," she whispers through her smile. "Did you miss me?"
The End
NOTE: One of the characters in this gets really mad and uses a nasty word. But, I think he can be forgiven given the circumstances.
The Melody of the Stars by Rowena
It is that still, timeless moment just before the dawn. The nighttime sky is purpling in the East, the stars twinkling with a graceful ferocity-- almost as though they know their time to shine is growing short. The chill wind whistles through the tall pines, the soft sound blending with the gentle rippling of the lake as it brushes lightly, almost teasingly against the water's smooth surface.
Slowly, a bird joins in. A sharp, sweet sound, calling to the earth and the sky and the water, welcoming the sun to a new morning. A second bird sings out, then a third, a fourth...even the cawing of the crows and the warbling of the loons have their place in the delicate harmony of this song.
The breeze picks up. A broken tree branch swings against the trunk of its tree, weaving a rhythmic beat that sets the toes of the snowy rabbits tapping. The squirrels chatter in the treetops, the song is swelling now. As the fish leap and splash, silver against the slowly brightening sky, the melody takes on a new dimension--one of light and color, a spectacular show that brings the sleepy deer out to blink in reverence, hoping to catch a glimpse of the song's mysterious conductor.
A slender line of brilliant light appears along the horizon, coloring the sky above in brilliant shades of pink, red, gold, and orange. But the stars are still there, and it is they who are calling out the most insistently, with the most passion. For, they know this song. Only they have heard it, only they have sung it, and only those who have lived among the stars could carry this gentle, wild melody with them, inspiring its harmonious tones in others.
There is a stirring at the bottom of the lake. Sound travels remarkably well underwater and the celestial melody carries a message within it, a message that must be delivered to ears that cannot hear, eyes that cannot see, and a heart that cannot beat. The body of the Earth woman is dead, frozen and lifeless at the bottom of the deep, dark lake. It remains perfect and untouched, despite the fact that it has lain there long enough for winter to arrive, then leave, and then come again. The fish dare not swim by this place, the scavenger crabs avoid it. Even they can sense a mysterious power slowly awakening in the frozen cells of her still body, a power otherworldly, alien.
Far above, the song has reached its crescendo. A strange, fiery glow sparks, then flares up around this frozen woman. It is a fire burning brightly underwater, a fire without heat, and it consumes nothing but her.
A dim, orange glow appears at the surface of the lake. The singers are excited now, the audience breathless with anticipation. The message is clear, it is insistent, it has found its target.
Impossibly, the eyelids of the frozen woman fly open, but beneath is only fire. Slowly, her arms spread out, flames licking along their slender length, twirling between her long fingers. Her mouth opens as though she is screaming, her wide, fiery eyes hold a wild, untamed passion terrifying to behold. Her mind awakens, her frozen blood begins to flow, a horrible, agonized stinging as her entire body forces itself back to life.
She rises to her feet, her movements slow and graceful in the dark water, almost as though she is moon walking. She tilts her head, taking in her surroundings with a distant curiosity. Then, with the power of a single thought, she is rising, breaking the surface of the water, a flaming meteor falling backwards from the earth into the atmosphere.
The song dies down but the primal energy remains. The gathered animals watch in awe as high above the ominous form of a fierce, flaming bird lights up the sunrise, obscuring the twinkling stars from view. It is a vision as beautiful as it is terrible. The rabbits run for their burrows, the deer flee in a panic. Birds flock away, screaming in fear and wonder.
The Phoenix has risen. The untamable celestial being has merged itself with the body, dreams, and aspirations of a human woman. The power fills her, but she can control it, it consumes her but she is willing to feed its hunger. She is Phoenix, and Phoenix has become Jean Grey.
*******
Miles away and miles below a man wakes from a restless sleep, shooting up from his pillow in a panic. The visions that had filled his mind, the alien melody that had touched his soul--these had not been a dream. He had seen these things through the eyes of another, through a precious telepathic link he had shared with a woman he had believed to be nearly two years dead. There had been color and depth to those images, and for almost as long as he can remember, Scott Summers has only been able to see the world around him in shades of red, flattened and slightly distorted by the faceted lenses of the ruby-quartz visor he wears even in sleep.
Jean is alive. Jean is alive and she is calling to him.
Scott doesn't even stop to think. He rushes from his room, tearing down the plush corridor and leaping down the flights of stairs like a young boy on Christmas morning.
His unheeding thumping and bumping, leaping, falling, and slipping wake two other restless sleepers. They open the doors to their respective rooms, sharing a worried, curious look and then a nod. One vanishes in a BAMF of sulfurous smoke. The other extends his long, deadly claws with a metallic SNIKT. Although the first arrives at his destination long before the second, crouching in the shadows of the high, foyer ceiling, both are there to witness the moment when Scott wrenches open the front door to the old, elegant mansion and stares into the fiery eyes of the woman he had loved as his second self.
"Jean...?"
It is barely a whisper, his throat too tight, his pulse too rapid to allow for anything more. He stands there panting, his knee and shoulder aching dully where he had crashed against several low tables and a wall in his haste to reach the door.
The wild flames fade from the woman's eyes, her own dark irises gleaming with emotion as she affectionately regards the gaping man before her, tossing her short, red hair with a self-assurance she had never before displayed.
"Hello, Scott," she says, a small smile quirking her lips as she spreads her arms with an almost apologetic shrug. "I'm back."
Scott is frozen. Even his thoughts can't move. It is the shadowy teleporter on the ceiling who is the first to regain his voice. He flips easily to the hardwood floor, his long tail twitching in apprehension and wonder as he approaches her.
"Doktor Grey?" he asks, his golden eyes wary, his gentle voice tinted with a soft, German accent. "Is that really you?"
Phoenix turns her gaze to the slender, blue man before her, his lithe, slightly stooped figure nearly invisible in the dimness of the foyer. Slowly, her eyes widen in recognition.
"Kurt?" she asks, her slight smile broadening. "How's the arm?"
"Was?" the man asks, confused. "My arm--?" Suddenly, he breaks off, understanding lighting his golden eyes. "Ach," he nods. "It has healed remarkably well, danke. There is barely even a scar."
"I'm glad to hear it," she says, turning back to Scott. "So, are you going to let me in?"
Scott blinks behind his glasses, stumbling backwards to allow her entry. Phoenix breezes past him, her eyes landing on the third occupant of the small room.
"How are you, Logan?" she asks, her eyes narrowing slightly as he cautiously sniffs the air, his face stern and unwelcoming.
"Your scent's off," he tells her bluntly, his arms crossed over his chest. He is tense and alert, ready to unleash his claws at any moment. "Who are you? Just what kinda crazy stunt are you tryin' to pull?"
Phoenix tilts her head, picking up on the anger, confusion, and crushing grief from these men Jean once considered her friends. Their reactions confuse her. She had expected her arrival would make them happy.
"I am Phoenix," she says simply, looking at each of them in turn. "It was I who saved you and your jet from the waters of Alkali Lake. Your comrade's sacrifice impressed me, and I found I could not let her die. So, I merged with her. Now we are one. I am Phoenix, but I am also Jean Grey."
Scott can only stare. He can feel his heart breaking all over again. For a brief, breathless moment, it had seemed as though his dream had come true. It had seemed his desperate, hopeless prayers had been answered. Jean had shown up at the door, alive and smiling. But this woman isn't Jean. She looks like Jean, sounds like Jean, smiles like Jean. But this isn't the woman he had grown up with. This is a stranger, looking out at him through the mask of his beloved's eyes.
Scott can't hear, he can't think. The images he woke up to make sense now. Jean truly had died. That had been her body lying frozen at the bottom of Alkali Lake. Somehow, this Phoenix-whatever-it-was had resurrected her body and taken it for itself.
Scott clenches his teeth, his anger building into a towering rage. His eyes flash dangerously, causing his visor to glow a brilliant red.
"How dare you," he snarls, his voice starting low then rising to a near scream, hot tears streaming down his anguished face as he advances on the startled Phoenix. "How DARE you! You should have left her in peace! What gives you the right to take over her body?! What kind of a sick, twisted thing is this?! You are not Jean!"
"I am Phoenix," Phoenix repeats. "And I am Jean. This was a choice we both made, and it was not made lightly. I had hoped you would be happy to see me."
"HAPPY!" Scott exclaims, his expression twisted with fury. "You pull a crazy stunt like you did at Alkali Lake, and then, nearly two YEARS later, you turn up at the doorstep and make a bullshit announcement like that and you expected me to be HAPPY! God, Jean--Phoenix--I don't even know who you are!"
Kurt teleports over to his sobbing friend, resting a gentle hand on his shuddering shoulder. Scott shrugs him off with a vicious snarl, struggling to contain his turbulent emotions.
"I shall wake Herr Professor," Kurt says softly, speaking to Logan. "Perhaps he will know how to deal with this situation."
Logan gives a short nod as the teleporter vanishes in a flash of smoke, his flinty, distrustful eyes focused on Phoenix. Yet inside, his emotions are in an uproar that mirrors Scott's. There is no doubt in Logan's mind that the woman before him is telling the truth. Her scent confirms her story. It is Jeannie's scent, but there is something more to it, something strange and powerful and completely alien that makes all the hair on Logan's arms stand on end. Whatever this Phoenix is, it did not originate on Earth. The being looking at him through Jeannie's beautiful eyes is a real, live extra- terrestrial.
*******
BAMF!
Ororo Munroe sits up in bed, rubbing the sleep from her eyes as she turns to face her early-morning visitor.
"Kurt," she smiles, her sleepy face warm with affection. "If you've come as my replacement alarm clock, I'm sorry to disappoint you but I was just waking up anyway."
Kurt smiles in return, but there is no humor in it. Ororo notices, concern darkening her mocha features as she slowly pulls on her slippers.
"What is it?" she asks, peering up at him with narrowed, blue eyes.
"Ororo," Kurt starts, uncertain as to how to broach the subject. Jean had been Ororo's closest friend. He doesn't want to hurt her with his news...
"Tell me, Kurt," Ororo demands, striding over to where he is standing nervously hunched in the shadows. "If something's wrong, I want to know."
"Meine Liebe," Kurt tries again. "What I have to say may come as something of a shock..."
"You're not about to tell me you've found someone new, are you?"
Kurt's golden eyes widen, his tail lashing behind him in startled agitation. "Was?! Nein! Never! Ororo, you know how I--"
Ororo shakes her snowy head, cutting him off by taking his hand in hers. "I know, Kurt," she assures him, kissing the tip of one thick, blue finger. "I was only teasing. Why don't you just get to the point and tell me what's wrong?"
Kurt stares at his hand in hers, appreciating the contrast of mocha against indigo, then closes his eyes with a sigh, struggling to find the best way to phrase what he has to say.
"A woman has just arrived," he tells her, his accented voice soft. "She calls herself Phoenix. But..." he hesitates a moment, meeting her eyes with deep compassion. "She looks like Doktor Grey."
Ororo gasps, her grip tightening until her nails dig painfully into his skin. Kurt represses a wince, reaching out with his other hand to gently loosen her grip and sandwich her hand between his.
"But she isn't..." Ororo stutters, "She can't be..."
"I cannot claim to understand any of this myself," Kurt tells her, "but Herr Professor is with her now, as are Doktor McCoy, Logan, and Scott. I felt that, since Doktor Grey was your friend, you should not be kept in the dark about this."
Ororo's crystal eyes flash. "You were absolutely right," she says. "Take me to them, right now. I want to see this Phoenix for myself."
Kurt nods, gently wrapping her in a close embrace as his tail twines securely around her slender waist.
"Ready?" he asks.
"Go," she nods.
A look of total concentration comes over Kurt's scarred, indigo face. With a BAMF of smoke, the two of them are gone.
*******
In the quiet aftermath of her explanation, Phoenix looks around at her gathered friends, noting the slight differences the years have brought to their familiar faces. They are no longer the same people she left behind. But then, she is no longer the woman they knew.
Phoenix knows the message carried by the celestial song. She carries it within her at all times, the wisps of melody she catches on the breeze quickening her blood and soothing her mind.
There is one constant in the universe, a single aspect that affects all things, living and non-living, celestial and earth-born. Ironically, that constant is change, and that is the message sung by the stars. All things change, nothing is ever truly the same from one moment to the next. Dust piles up in an empty house, subatomic particles shift their positions, mountains crumble into sand which sticks to the toes of growing children.
Phoenix knows change, but has never before viewed it subjectively. To Phoenix, change has never been good or bad, right or wrong. Change just 'was'. It was a part of Phoenix, yet it was also apart from Phoenix. It had never before touched Phoenix's core.
But now, Phoenix has been changed. She is no longer merely a care-free energy being.
The earth-woman's thoughts had called to Phoenix, drawing the celestial avatar down from space, and through her Phoenix had begun to understand what it meant to feel, to care about other beings. Phoenix had reached out to her, playfully at first but then with more intensity. When the earth- woman strove to use her own paltry powers to hold back the raging waters of a collapsing dam--not for her own safety but to allow her friends to get out alive--Phoenix had felt compelled to assist. Through this woman, Phoenix had learned what it was to fear, to hope, to love, and ultimately to die.
Phoenix's offer to merge with her had been an act of pure compassion, an act the celestial avatar never before would have been capable of, and the woman's acceptance had filled Phoenix with a joy the celestial being had never believed could exist. The merge had taken nearly two years to complete, but the human concept of time had always seemed inconsequential to the immortal Phoenix.
Now, Phoenix is human. She is the woman, Jean Grey. Phoenix shares her memories, her body, her voice--her spirit has merged with Phoenix's own. Suddenly, change means a great deal to her, and not just as a primal force to be sung about and respected. For the first time, Phoenix is finding she wants a hand in shaping how things turn out. She wants to make a difference in the world she now calls her own. Phoenix now realizes that this strange, human concept of time is actually a way of measuring change, and she doesn't want to waste a moment of her new life.
The man Jean knows as Professor Xavier understands this. He understands it all. Phoenix can feel her eyes filling with tears as she feels his acceptance roll over her, filling her mind with relief.
"We would be honored if you choose to remain with us," the Professor is saying in response to the question she had ended her story with, turning to the rest of his X-Men to gauge their reactions.
Phoenix can feel their thoughts in her mind. Slowly, very slowly, they are overcoming the shock, grief, confusion and anger her sudden appearance had sparked. Those feelings are now being replaced by curiosity, slight trepidation, and even a hint of acceptance. Phoenix smiles, a small, gradual beam, looking into each of their eyes in turn. She almost grins when she sees Ororo sitting with Kurt, her heart warming to know her lonely friend has finally found someone she can be close to, someone who loves her for herself rather than her power and whom she is only just starting to realize she has fallen in love with in return.
Phoenix's smile fades, however, when her eyes fall on Scott, standing stoic and stiff by the side of the Professor's wheelchair. Phoenix feels Jean's love for him swelling within her heart and her eyes widen with the sudden upsurge of emotion. It hurts her to see him in such pain, and it is killing her to know that she is the cause.
Jean's love for Scott runs deep, deeper than even she had realized. When Phoenix steps toward him, that action is Jean's. Jean reaches out to him, taking his hand with a gentle squeeze. And, it is Jean who smiles warmly into his stoic face, reaching up to brush an errant strand of hair away from his visor.
"Can you hear my thoughts?" she asks him, her voice soft, a small smile tugging at her lips.
Scott's eyes widen behind his visor, his mouth hangs slightly agape. Jean uses the special mind link the two of them have forged to communicate with him directly, filling him with the love she feels and is no longer too shy or frightened to express.
"Oh, my God," Scott breathes, pulling her into his arms and squeezing her tightly to him, rocking her slightly as he kisses her brilliant, red hair. "Jean!"
The tears that leak from behind his visor now are tears of pure joy as he sends his love back to her in full. As the two of them lean in for a tender, passionate kiss, the Professor gestures to the others, suggesting that perhaps it would be best to leave the two of them alone for a while.
Ororo and Kurt share a grin, his tail reaching out of its own accord to wind affectionately around her waist, pulling her close as they creep softly from the room, arm in arm. Hank and the Professor follow just behind.
Logan stands for a moment, watching the reunited lovers with surprisingly soft eyes. The impossible has happened. Jeannie has come back to them. To Logan's surprise, though, he finds he is not hurt by her choice. He had cared for her, and deeply, but what they had shared was not love. At least, not the kind he was seeing right now.
Slowly, a bright smile creeps across Logan's scruffy face. He is happy for them, and he carries no bitterness toward Scott. If Jeannie wants to marry a stuck-up prick, that's her business. Logan is just glad to have her back, safe and sound, even if they never will be anything more than good friends.
The mansion is awakening now, the children tumbling blearily out of their beds and heading for the growing shower lines. Their shouts and laughs, thumps and giggles echo down to the foyer as the air fills with the good smells of breakfast wafting in from the kitchen.
All this is lost to Scott and Jean, however. They are aware of nothing but each other, their world extending no farther than the glow in the other's eyes. The sun has risen and the stars have faded from the sky. But, far beyond the Earth's thick atmosphere the celestial forces continue their eternal song, enfolding the lovers in its delicate harmonies.
All too soon, Jean breaks their kiss, looking through Scott's ruby-quartz visor and straight into his eyes.
"So," she whispers through her smile. "Did you miss me?"
The End