A.N – this is part of a series I am doing to tie-in with Mutation on Namuh-flah's page. If you want to read it then this story might make more sense, but in brief it is X-Men circa 1857. Jean and Kitty are sisters and Rahne is their cousin, who in this story has just arrived from Scotland to prevent people in the local area finding out about her powers. I'm hoping that will make this story make sense, but there are no guarantees.
I've already written Kitty and Rahne's power origins, they are "Just Me, Sitting in a Tree" and "Half Moon" respectively. They are on Namuh-flah's page, but I don't think either are as heavy going as this.
Just to make it clear, I don't hate Jean, this story does. I realised it would be rough on her when I started it, but I didn't realise what it would put her through. Reading over it though, it seems like it works better than my original ideas. I'm not sure enjoy is the right word so, erm, here it is!
Disclaimer – I don't own the X-Men, and most of Mutation is Namuh-flah's work. I'm a hanger-on.
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The evening after Rahne arrived, she, Jean and Kitty sat around the fire and talked until well after the time Jean would have normally excused herself to go to bed. Rahne and Kitty had always got on incredibly well through their letters, and Jean had often wished her younger sister and cousin could meet. Now they were together and any drowsiness that either felt was pushed to the back of their minds by the other's stories. Jean could feel the two sharing their energy in a way that was so rare she had only felt it once before, between a pair of four year old twins.
Normally this kind of mental activity so late at night might have irritated her a little-her mind picked up even the smallest amount of conscious thoughts when she was sleeping and had the effect of waking up with less energy than she had had when she went to bed.
The size and clearness of thoughts Kitty and Rahne were giving out were enormous, but Jean was glad of the ones that were slipping through the barrier she used to keep her own thoughts clear from the babble of every day voices. They showed a hesitant friendship formed in letters blossoming into a close bond between the girls.
Jean had been worried about Kitty. Her younger sister was exceptionally clever and brave, but also had very little patience, especially when it came to injustice. If she thought something was wrong then she would bound off to instantly correct it without any thoughts for her own safety. Jean's opinion was that it was only so long before she used her powers around one of the town gossips. Kitty also had no idea how much trouble news of their unusual talents could create. Jean hoped that the clearly more level-headed Rahne could provide a, if not calming, stabilising influence that would keep the whirlwind that Kitty could be from harm.
So Jean cupped a mug of drinking chocolate in her hands, listening to the excited chatter of the younger girls and, while keeping her shields against thoughts up, she basked in the happiness coming from her sister and cousin. They were talking about finding their powers. Rahne had nearly fallen off her chair in hysterics three times in the last minute at Kitty's lively recollection of how she realised her phasing powers.
Jean envied her sister's surprising power activation. It had been quite a shock to see her waist deep in the ground, but at least she wasn't terrified. Just very annoyed that Jean had seen her before she gained complete control. It had been a lot easier than Jean's own transition.
Jean had now realised that to some extent she had always been telepathic. As far back as she could remember there had been little voices in her head remarkably similar to the voices of the people around her. When people told Jean that she was very thoughtful and considerate of others, she thought that this was what the voices were, something some people were able to hear better than others. As she grew older and realised this was not the case she trained herself to ignore the voices as much as possible. They became figments of her imagination who were very helpful, but entirely inappropriate. Her subconscious trained itself to take the information Jean used to pick out and give it to Jean to use in day to day life.
Jean couldn't help but wonder what would have happened if she hadn't done this to herself voluntarily when her powers were still relatively weak. The self control had helped her a lot. Would she be sitting here today if she hadn't taken these measures when she had the chance? Despite the warmth coming off the fire she shivered. That was a question she hated. She wouldn't think of it. She would think of something else.
As she got older her powers and her will power must have strengthened, because once the shield was created until a year ago, Jean forgot the voices and put down her skilfulness at predicting people's moods down to a good intuition. Then she began to notice that the voices were still there, and all her work to relegate them to the back of her head started to unravel.
At first she only heard people she was talking to. Her family sneaked into her head a little in their home at night, but then it was mainly dreams. Her bedroom was near Kitty's, and she would be able to share her younger sister's vibrant dreams. She even learned that with the right thought in the right place she could protect her from a nightmare.
With her friends her powers didn't help as much. She had no idea how many of them were close to her for what social status they could gain. Their thoughts rattled through her mind like a steam engine: "Thinks she's it." "How self obsessed can one person be?" "What makes her so perfect?" These thoughts stung like a disturbed wasps nest, and Jean ended up drifting away from these people. It was too much to take, these people who were supposed to be her friends and their venom-filled thoughts. The friends she kept she grew clser to. In the long run, she supposed, she was happier, but even after all these months the thought of the revelations made her feel like she was twisting up inside.
Her powers continued to grow, until she was aware of everyone around her. She had thought her so-called friends had been bad, but now she was listening to people she avoided in the first place. Each emotion produced a physical sensation for her. Anger produced a smell of rotting fish that hung under her nose. Jealously gave her a acidic tang, if it were too strong it made her eyes water. And envy sent goose bumps along her spine.
She hadn't been aware of it before, but there were some girls her age who she didn't know-the towns poor. If she went to the market with friends, they would look up from their jobs on stalls to bring in extra money and follow the lucky ones around the market with their eyes. Being watched with such longing was more than Jean could stand. She was disgusted with herself, that she had not noticed these girls and tried to help. She approached a couple and asked them for help, but the resentment was so strong she backed away in shock. The thoughts were along the lines of "Who does she think she is?" "What makes her think we would want her help?"
After this, Jean became reclusive. It was becoming harder to concentrate on what people were saying, and separate the voices in the air from the voices in her head. Her range was becoming further reaching. She started avoiding company. In turn this worried her family. These worried thoughts brought the sensation of ice on her tongue, and guilt. She already felt shaken by what she was now finding were people's opinions of her. She was seeing her friends less and less, so along with a profound sense of loneliness came less thoughts about her by people who knew her well. Her self confidence plummeted and her family's worry grew. Jean's guilt grew. And so the whole sorry situation amplified itself.
All of what was happening terrified Jean. She felt as though she was being pushed out of her own mind, drowning in the swarm of voices that became clearer each day. She found it hard to understand which voices were not her own. The only time she was certain it was her own thoughts was when she wondered if this is what going mad felt like. At first she didn't realise it, but she started searching through the thoughts crowding her brain to fin information on asylums. What she found made her blood run cold.
Jean kept on fighting to gain control, but each day was a bit more of a struggle. Jean began to wish that she would just give up and let them take over, it would be so much easier. The process would be so much quicker. Her family's concern would be just another voice. Her own voice would be just another voice. The last part always jolted her back to her senses. She would not give up on Kitty, or herself.
Just as the prospect of losing her identity was becoming less daunting, Jean was saved. Professor Xavier, a long-time friend of the family was passing through the area and decided to come see how everyone was. He found her parents and Kitty terrified at how far Jean had retreated into herself. Jean was not refusing to do anything, but she needed to be prompted. She would get up and dressed by herself, but her independence ended there. She ate whatever was put in front of her, if moved in front of a basin or bath she would wash, but she ignored all communication. She wasn't sleeping, getting into bed just to lie staring at the ceiling. The last time she had spoken was a week before, and even then she had only answered questions in as few words as possible. Mostly she would sit by her window, staring out at the view of the beautiful gardens, obviously not registering anything. Occasionally tears would slip down her cheeks as her inner battle intensified. As the Professor was renowned within the circles he travelled for being able to unravel problems easily, Jean's parents begged him to try something, anything that might help Jean.
Jean would never forget hearing her door open and suddenly being addressed by a voice. Not one of the people trying to talk to her. The voice was one of the voices, but stronger and clearer. "Jean, can you hear me? Focus on me Jean. I know you can." She recognised it as Professor X, as she had called him when she was small and had found it impossible to pronounce Xavier. The name had stuck.
In that moment, Jean knew everything would be alright. If she could just have this voice to focus on then everything would be fine. Tears rolled down her face as she latched onto his voice with all her might. "Thank-you" she sobbed aloud. And she was certain that it was her and not someone else who was speaking this time.
Professor X explained to Jean, partly aloud and partly through their minds, that he possessed the same abilities as her, only his had developed more slowly so he had been able to control them. He helped her re-establish her fragile shields that had broken down completely under the strain and persuaded her to sleep. While she slept for the first time in weeks, he explained to her parents what had happened. He offered to coach Jean in developing her powers, and they willingly accepted, offering him a guest room in the house to cal his own as long as he lived there.
Over several tiring weeks, Jean built up her control over her power. When the Professor and Jean jointly explained to a confused and generally terrified Kitty what had happened and why, she was quick to offer help in whatever way she could. Jean asked her to spread the rumour that she had been seriously ill, to explain her absence. This Kitty did this rather enthusiastically, adding a few details of her own "to make it more authentic". Jean wasn't sure if she wanted Kitty inventing her feverish complaints about where Scott Summers was, but she was exceptionally glad when he came to see how she was. He was so easy to concentrate around, and he was one of the few people she could honestly call "pure hearted".
Jean was now back to her old self, but the memories of those dark months still haunted her. When her parents had announced they were going to find a cure for her and now Kitty, she was beginning to get used to her powers. Now in the month or so since their departure, she had decided that she would rather have the powers than take a cure, but she had no idea how to tell her parents. And here were Rahne and Kitty, obviously delighted with what they were now able to do.
"Jean," the older girl was jerked out of her thoughts by the Scottish accent of her cousin, "how did you find your powers?"
"I've always had them, Rahne. I can't remember not being able to hear others thoughts. I suppose I just learnt to control them like most babies learn to walk and talk." Jean answered.
Kitty looked like she was going to say something, but Jean shook her head at her over Rahne. She didn't think the young Scot needed to know the trauma that her powers had caused her.