Immortal Phoenix
Chapter 1
I woke up in the remains of a war zone. I was not in any pain but it took me a moment to realise that something was extremely out of the ordinary.
Opening my eyes, I stared around at the ruins. It was apparent that some time had passed. An attempt had been made to clean up the area because it certainly didn't look as bad as it did the last time I saw this place, but everything was still in disarray, as if a whirlwind had picked everything up off the floor, chucked it in the air and let it fall to the ground. There were potholes in the ground, and dirt and scorch marks everywhere. A faint stench hung in the air and I wrinkled my nose – it reminded me of death.
Then a thought hit me that caused me to panic.
I did this.
'NO!' I cried out, and I stood up and ran, anything to get away from this place, anything to drown out the memory of being possessed by the Phoenix and made to hurt many hundreds of people with my lack of control. In front of my eyes I saw flashes of fire and many bodies and objects being lifted off the ground. A figure moving towards me, his skin being ripped off but growing back far too rapidly to be considered normal. Then, just as soon as I started, I stopped in my tracks, stumbling in the process.
Where would I go?
I realised that it didn't matter, because all I wanted was to kill myself so that no one else would get hurt.
Wait…isn't that supposed to have already happened?
The memory of Logan – no, Wolverine – thrusting his adamantium claws into my body was clear as day. I remembered the excruciating pain (Blissful relief, it was over, the Phoenix wouldn't be able to control me anymore…) as blood began pouring from my body and my life slipped away.
One hand slid underneath my top and tentatively caressed my stomach. There wasn't a single mark.
Impossible…
I dropped to my knees. This wasn't supposed to happen. As I'd lain trapped by the Phoenix force during the Alcatraz battle, I had held onto the one hope that Logan (no, Wolverine, because Logan would never be able to do it) would come for me and save me from myself. His claws were supposed to have killed me. And now – damn it, now that hope was gone, meaning the Phoenix was still here and could still hurt other people.
At that thought my heart rate increased and I could feel my control slipping. Some ruins started to tremble around me, and I gasped for air, trying to stop what was happening.
NO! There will be no repeats! The Phoenix will die this time!
The trembling stopped.
Somewhere in my mind a new thought arose, and I shuddered as I realised it was not my own.
When a Phoenix dies it rises from its ashes and is reborn again.
I jumped in shock. Sad thing is, it was so, so logical. It was common knowledge that Phoenixes were creatures of rebirth. Why, why had it taken me so long to figure out that it would take more than simply killing my body to get the Phoenix to cease to exist?
It would be pointless trying to kill myself again. I would only end up causing myself unnecessary agony and then coming back to life.
I felt a heavy weight on my heart. Tears fell from my eyelids, dampening the ground before me. I curled up in a tight ball and rocked myself back and forth, crying out loud for someone to come and save me, anything so that I could escape this fate. No one was in the vicinity to hear me – not that they could help if they were. Even Cerebro wouldn't find me, not now that there was no telepath to control it.
I allowed myself ten minutes – rather, an approximation of. I wasn't sure what time of day it was, only that it was day time and the weather was warm. Once I deemed that my time was up, I wiped my face and choked back my sobs. I was a messed up woman, but I was a very practical messed up woman who needed a plan.
I briefly considered returning to the mansion but quickly tossed the idea aside. There was no way I was putting myself back in the vicinity of the people who I had once considered friends, who the Phoenix had ended up hurting, who could very well end up getting hurt again. They probably wouldn't even want me near them anyway, if they knew I was alive. They would never believe that I was back to being myself again.
I took a moment to mourn this loss. I had had such great people in my life, and now it was time to give them up for the greater good. Leaving them, I decided, was the last good thing I could do for them after all the damage I'd caused.
I didn't feel good about blending in with society either. Wherever I went there would be more people to hurt, and I didn't think I would be able to handle more numbers being added to my death toll.
I realised I was a lone being. There was no place for me in this world. I was unable to die, but could never be allowed to survive amongst humans.
So there was only one option left.
A/N: What do you think? Is it okay? Worth continuing? Please review!