Title: Life
Series: Rage
Author: RedKaddict
Category: X-Men: the Movie
Genre: Drama
Rating: PG
Warnings: Spoilers
Summary: Jean reflects on the power that burns within her during X3.
Disclaimer: I do not own any of this. X-Men belongs to Marvel. All I have is the idea, and I'm very proud of it. I would appreciate if nobody stole it from me.
Notes: This is part of a series of oneshot drabbles dealing with various characters. I know I tend to use this idea a lot, but bear with me. I just think there's so much to this whole Phoenix concept, most of which is rather lacking in the movies. Anyhow, hope you enjoy. A list of the other Rage stories can be found on my profile. Leave reviews!
Rage: Life
The fire that burns inside me cannot be quenched. And I don't want it to be. I like it. I like feeling like this. The power, the freedom…
…the rage…
No, I don't like this. I don't like feeling like this. She's done this to me. Stop! Let me out! The power, too much power… Can't control it… Can't… stop it…
Scott… I… I killed him… She killed him…
We killed him.
This power scares me. There's too much of it. There always has been. But I was afraid to tell anyone. I was afraid they would look at me like I was crazy. I was afraid he would never look at me the same way again.
And now he'll never look at me at all. If he were still alive, would he hate me for what I've done? I caused so much death, so much pain. How can anyone be forgiven for that? I don't want to die. But I know that is the cost of my mistake. And I know it is the only way to quench the fire burning inside me. It won't stop as long as I'm alive. As long as I'm still breathing, she will still want more. And I can't give her that.
Because I won't see her kill any more of my friends. I want him to save me. I ask him to kill me. I know he'll do it. Because he doesn't want to see me suffer anymore.
I can hear her scream as he plunges his claws into me. The sound is unbearable. And it's coming from my throat. I have to make it stop…
She's… She's dead. I can't hear her voice in my head any longer. Sweet relief… But now… Now it's my turn. I feel so cold. The darkness washes over me like a wave, and I let it take me away. It should bother me, but it doesn't. It's like some twisted form of poetic justice, a cruel irony. I welcome it.
Mostly because I feel I must suffer for the all the wrong I have done in this world, if only for a short time. Somehow I know this isn't the end. I hope that, if I get another chance, I will be able to control it somehow. I don't want this to happen again. I killed the man I love because I was too weak. And now I am paying the price.