Disclaimer: I don't own the X-Men, Marvel Comics, or the Kids WB network that showed X-Men Evolution in our area. I wish I did, but no such luck. Special thanks to Jen1703, beta-reader extraordinaire, and to Kate, who came up with the idea in the first place and said I could write it.
From the Ashes
Prologue
He stared at the tombstone for several long minutes, not even reading the inscription. The words had been inscribed on his mind's eye for years already, there was no need.
"Jean Grey. 1984 – 2005. May She Find Peace."
Ororo had picked the tombstone, he knew. It was cold and gray, imposing, reminding him of one of 'Ro's storms. He'd never liked it; it seemed too unrepresentative of Jean, who had never been cold or imposing, even though he knew a lot of the Institute's students would have argued it. He'd known her better, though.
Logan has picked the saying, and for once he'd found himself in agreement with the surly, hardcore instructor. It fit. He hoped it was true, that Jeannie'd found the peace she'd lost in her life.
But he couldn't know, not really. And hopefully, after today, it'd all be academic.
He ran his hand through his dyed hair and shook his head. Most of the X-Men would think he was making a huge mistake, he knew. He'd proposed this once before, when Piotr Rasputin's sister Illyana had first manifested her powers, and been unequivocally shot down. Changing the past was neither possible nor desirable, Storm had argued, and Logan had threatened to skewer him if he ever brought it up again, so he hadn't.
But they'd been wrong. He knew it, deep down where it counted. They were wrong, and Illyana, tentatively approached a few months before, was in agreement. Not because she'd ever been fond of Jean, but because she hoped the lack of the Dark Phoenix would change the world for the better. He hoped so too, but it wasn't his real purpose. Somehow, he was going to save Jeannie from herself.
Taking a deep breath and then letting it out slowly, Bobby Drake cast one last, sad smile at the grave of the woman who'd been teacher, friend, and the closest thing he'd ever had to a big sister. She'd saved his sanity, once. It was time to return the favor.
"Are you sure about this?" Illyana asked as he approached, one eyebrow arched curiously. She was dressed as he was, in clothes eight years out of style. He'd gotten his from a second hand shop when he realized the ones still floating around in his closet no longer fit. He suspected she'd bought hers from someplace where they were called retro; they didn't look quite authentic, but they were close enough. "I can't promise to get you to the exact time or place you specified, you know." She looked up at him, reaching out to smooth his collar which apparently didn't meet with her approval.
"I'm sure," he answered, smiling down at her as she stepped back, nodding at his appearance.
"The contacts are a nice touch," she observed, "but your eyes look better brown. So does your hair."
"Hey, beats playing Clark Kent and wearing glasses," he shrugged, scrubbing his hand through his newly dyed blondish hair. "You did a good job with it, anyway."
"Of course I did," she countered, a mischievous smile on her face that faded almost immediately, and he watched as she took a deep breath, centering herself. "Eight years back. The Institute, do you think?"
Bobby shook his head. "The university," he corrected, grinning a bit as he saw the corners of Illyana's mouth quirk upward.
"Hmmm, I may have to stick around for a while, then," she said as a circle of light appeared beneath them. "If I remember correctly, some of those guys were pretty hot…"
Jean sighed and exhaled slowly, her fingers rubbing at her temple, as the increasingly frequent scenario began to play out once again.
"I am focusing!" Bobby was protesting as he scrubbed at his eyes with his hand. "I'm trying…"
"Obviously, you're not trying hard enough," Scott disputed, then took a deep breath. "You can do this, Bobby. You have done this – you did it last week in the Danger Room without thinking about it. If you can change to solid ice by reflex, there's no reason you can't do it intentionally."
"I can't!"
Jean shook her head and stood up, crossing the room to the pair. This was going nowhere except downhill, fast.
"Alright, Bobby," she said, forcing a smile despite the headache that the heightened level of stress in the room was producing. "Let's try something different." She cast a glance over at Scott as she felt his impatience through their link. No, I'm not babying him, she disputed. I'm just trying to help.
We were doing fine, Scott disagreed.
Jean chose not to reply, settling for rolling her eyes at him before turning back to Bobby. Scott, she knew, was suffering from burn out. Between college, leading the team, and picking up a lot of the slack that had resulted from the Professor's death the previous year, he had little time or patience leftover. She could sympathize. She was under much the same load, herself, but she held one advantage; she and Bobby had always gotten along. Whereas, when you mixed Bobby with Scott, even under the best of circumstances, you invariably got sparks.
"I am trying, Jeannie," Bobby asserted, rubbing at his forehead. "It's just not happening."
"I know, kiddo," she told him, reaching over to ruffle his hair with her hand, her expression changing to one of concern as he winced. "Headache again?" she asked, studying his face. He'd been getting a lot of those, lately. Another thing she could sympathize with far too well.
Grimacing, Bobby nodded. "Yeah, and it's just getting worse," he admitted grudgingly.
That wasn't good. Now that she was closer, she could almost feel the pain radiating off of him in waves. Which was unusual in and of itself. Her shielding had improved over the years, and Bobby had fairly strong ones of his own, for a non-telepath. She shouldn't be receiving anything from him.
"Maybe we should take you down to see Hank," she suggested, closing her eyes as spots began swimming before them. "I don't think this is the best time for experimenting with your powers, not if you're not feeling well already."
"No! I can do this," Bobby insisted with a shake of his head.
Jean let out a sigh as she glanced over at Scott and saw him nod, whether from approval, agreement, or consent she wasn't quite sure. "Fine," she replied reluctantly. "Now, what was going on when it happened in the Danger Room?"
Bobby's brow furrowed. "I was…scared," he admitted, glancing self-consciously over at Scott before turning his attention back to her. "We were almost out of time, and the Sentinel we were fighting had just tossed Sam across the room. That was when he hit his head, remember?"
Jean nodded, smiling encouragement. "I remember. So, what happened next?"
"I don't know," Bobby admitted, closing his eyes as if trying to picture the scene. "I remember Sam hitting the wall, and my head hurt. Sympathy pain or something, I guess. I wanted to go and check on him; he wasn't moving. But before I could do anything, Amara hit the Sentinel from behind, and it started falling toward her instead of forward. She let out a scream –"
"She didn't," Scott disputed, looking over at Jean and shrugging his shoulders. "She stood there staring at it. I wasn't sure whether or not she was going to blast it again, so I went ahead and terminated the program before it could fall on her."
Jean nodded, remembering the tapes she'd seen of the session, but saw Bobby shaking his head.
"I would've sworn she screamed, or…something. She panicked."
"You don't know that," Scott pointed out, and Jean watched as Bobby took a step backwards, his eyes clamping shut.
"C'mon, man, cool it with the shouting, my head hurts enough already," he protested.
"I didn't shout," Scott countered, then let out a frustrated sigh. "Look, I've got a paper due in a couple hours. Are we going anywhere with this today?"
Jean shook her head, her hand rising up to rub at her temples. "I don't think so," she said, fixing Bobby with a glare as he opened his mouth to protest. "You don't want to go see Hank, fine. At least take a couple of the pills he gave you last time, okay?" She smiled at him, her eyes tired. "Preferably before you give me a headache that matches yours."
"Sorry," Bobby replied, his shoulders slumping, and Jean wrapped her arm around him, giving him a squeeze.
"Nothing to apologize for," she assured him as she led him out of the room. "Now, let's get you some pills, and you can go try to sleep it off."
Which sounded far too attractive, she had to admit as she escorted Bobby down the hall, leaving him at the door of his room once he agreed to cooperate and heading back to the rec room where she knew she'd find Scott. Sleep was a commodity she'd been doing without far too often lately, and the idea of curling up for a few hours and just collapsing, especially with the way her head was pounding, was tempting. Sadly, she had class in a little over an hour, and she an orientation session with the Institute's newest resident, Illyana Rasputin, before that.
"Get him settled in?" Scott asked as she entered the room.
Jean smiled wanly and nodded. "More or less. I left him at his door with instructions to take two pills and see me in the morning. I feel as if I might as well skip med school at this point," she joked as she sat down beside him on the couch, eyeing the coffee-table covered with texts warily. Homework. She had to get some of that done today, too, but she really didn't have time to start on it now.
"Mmmm," Scott responded distractedly, thumbing through one of the books. "We really should get Hank to take a look at him, if he's having headaches like that," he noted, sounding as if he rather doubted it.
"Trust me, he is," Jean replied, rubbing her forehead. Her own skull seemed to be pounding, though it was gradually getting better.
"Having trouble shielding?" Scott asked, looking up from his books, his forehead creased with concern.
Jean sighed and leaned against him heavily. Once, he would've just asked if she had a headache. More and more, lately, Scott was falling into his role as leader of the X-Men first, and only belatedly remembering that he was also her boyfriend. She couldn't even blame him, not really. His plate was as full as hers these days; as full as anyone's at the Institute, if she was going to be totally honest. With the Professor gone and Logan away in Canada, the faculty was hard pressed to keep up with the growing numbers of students, let alone the threats to mutant-kind that seemed to be springing out of the woodwork lately.
Of course, she told herself, letting a trace of annoyance slip out from the part of her mind where she normally kept it locked up, she was busy, too. And she wasn't always thinking of him as a team member, first.
Nonetheless, she smiled half-heartedly as he shifted his arm behind her so she could settle against him. "I'm not sure," she admitted. "Normally I don't pick anything up from Bobby, let alone a killer migraine. Maybe I'm just overtired."
"You've been working awfully hard lately," Scott agreed, absently stroking her shoulder, though she noticed he hadn't set aside his book. "Maybe you should take a few days off from school, get some rest."
"I can't," she argued, letting her eyes drift shut. "I've got a project due, and if I'm not there for my biological sciences lab, the Professor will just use it as an excuse to fail me – he's a friend of Kelly's. I'll be fine, maybe I'll catch a nap after class."
"Sounds like a good idea. Hey, don't you have something with Illyana before class?" he asked suddenly, and Jean popped her eyes open to glance up at the clock, then groaned. So much for Scott's concern over her headache or her shields. Back to work, apparently.
"You're right, and if I don't show up, who knows what she'll get into," she admitted, grudgingly getting to her feet. The newest member of the Institute, and the only one who'd yet to manifest any sort of mutant ability, was trouble wrapped up in one small, blonde, thirteen-year-old package. Rescued the previous week from where she'd been held hostage by Magneto against Piotr's good behavior, Illyana Rasputin was quickly turning the Institute on its head. Nonetheless, they'd decided, based on discussions with Piotr, to let her stay at the Institute indefinitely. It was a decision Jean feared they were going to regret, considering the amount of trouble Illyana had already gotten into with Jamie, but she couldn't think of any way around it. Besides, the rest of the teachers thought she was adorable.
"I'll see you later?" she asked as she leaned in to brush her lips against Scott's.
"Mmmm. I've got to get this paper finished and sent off to my Professor, and then I have a team practice with the New Mutants. Maybe we could grab something to eat after that?" he replied, barely taking the time to glance up at her as he scribbled down a note, let alone attempt to return her kiss, and once again began flipping through his book.
"Fine," she replied, not even trying to hide her disappointment as she turned and headed out the door in search of her orientee. Apparently, she was on her own. As usual.
He was right about one thing, though. If her shields were acting up, she was going to have to take some time off to pull it together. The last thing they needed was a University-sized incident like the one she'd caused when her powers had last spiraled out of control.