The highly anticipated (in my mind) final installment of the Michael Grey trilogy! Haha, if anyone has a better name for the series, please let me know. That's just what it is for now.

But yes, this is the first chapter of the final story. After nearly a year of writing, I'm ALMOST DONE!

Then I'll have my other stories to write.

Well, anyway, I hope it was worth the wait. I know it was for me.

Xavier Mansion, the not too distant future

Sighing heavily, Michael Grey closed his eyes and leaned back in his chair. Hearing a slight noise, the seventeen-year-old reluctantly opened his eyes. Maya Wagner flopped down next to him, her usual smile absent. Michael frowned.

"You all right, Maya?" he asked, confused.

"Yeah," she said lightly. He raised his eyebrows at the girl.

"You sure?" he asked, not buying it. She frowned slightly and didn't answer. "Come on, tell me."

"You'll just make it worse," she muttered.

"What's wrong?" he asked comfortingly. He gently placed a hand on her shoulder. Maya sighed and wrapped her arms around her legs.

"Why haven't I gotten my powers?" she muttered, looking down. Michael smiled.

"Hey, you've got plenty of time," he said. "You're only ten. Some people don't get their powers until they're a lot older." She looked up at him, her dark eyes shining.

"Really?"

"Yeah," he assured her, giving her shoulder a small squeeze.

"When'd you get yours?" she asked quietly. Michael frowned and groaned inwardly.

She would ask.

"Well…I…um…" he started awkwardly. "Oh, I was…ten." Maya glared at him.

"See?" she said, her eyes wide. "Why don't I have mine?"

"I'm…a different person than you, Maya," he said gently.

"Meaning you're more powerful," the ten-year-old grumbled. Michael shook his head.

"It doesn't matter how powerful you are." She rolled her eyes.

"Right," she said, standing up. As she walked away, Michael smiled sadly after her.

I wish there was something more I could do.

Michael stared at the garden he had once known as a place to relax, now turned into a painful reminder of how much their team had given up. His grey eyes scanned the tombstones of Scott Summers, Peter Rasputin, and his mother…Jean Grey. All X-Men. All those who died needlessly. Michael sighed shakily, knowing the sacrifices they made to keep everyone else safe.

Why can't I just accept the fact that they're gone? he wondered angrily. Why is it so hard for me and no one else? How can the others move on like nothing happened? That they never existed?

"Because, kid, they can't show it," said a rough voice from behind him. "They can't show weakness…not even for a second." Michael turned around, frowning.

"Was I-"

Logan smirked. "You were." Michael looked down, embarrassed and ashamed.

"Why can't they show it?" he muttered. "Why can't anyone else realize-"

"Mike, not everyone deals with grief the same way," the elder said uncomfortably. "Me, well…I lock myself up or run away, or something. You…" Michael smirked.

"Cry?" he suggested bitterly.

"Well…" Logan tried. "Yeah."

After a few seconds of silence, Michael looked up at his father. He sighed and stuffed his hands in his pockets. "Logan…can I ask you something?"

"Shoot."

"Have you ever been afraid…afraid of yourself?" he asked hesitantly. "Afraid that you'll go overboard one day? And no one-"

"-Will be able to stop you," Logan finished quietly. "Can't say I have, kid."

"Then how'd you-"

"Your mother was the same way," he explained with a slight smile. "At least from when I knew her."

"The Professor mentioned to me…that she's died more than once," Michael said. "Do you know anything about that?" Logan frowned and looked determinedly away from his son. When he said nothing, the teenager prodded, "Logan?" He sighed.

"Three times."

"Damn…" Michael said quietly. "Can you tell me…how?"

"I don't want to upset ya, kid," Logan said uneasily.

"Logan…I want to know," he said simply. "I know I won't like it…but I need to know." His father took a deep breath.

"The first…she sacrificed herself to save us," he said. "That was at Alkali Lake. The second time…it was the hardest thing I ever had to do…but it was me. She-" Michael's eyes widened.

"You?" he asked angrily. "But you loved her! You swore you did!"

"I loved her…" Logan said quietly, "Too much."

"You would die for them?" the Phoenix hissed menacingly. The world was being destroyed around them, but Logan didn't seem to notice. A tear shakily trailed down his cheek.

"Not for them," he said, his voice thick and unsteady. "For you. For you." The Phoenix's eyes widened, and for a second…Jean was able to speak.

"Save me," she pleaded. Logan could feel his heart break into a million pieces that would be unable to be put back together.

"I love you," he said, somehow his voice being heard through all the destruction he knew she was causing. The destruction he knew he had to stop. He extracted his claws and sunk them into the stomach of the woman he loved.

"She couldn't control her power," Logan admitted. "The Phoenix took over. I was the only one who could stop it. It killed me to do it. Mike, believe me, I didn't have a choice."

"I understand," Michael said quietly, his face grim. Tears fell down his face and he wiped them away angrily.

"Don't be angry," Logan said gently.

"I'm not," Michael answered indifferently, his eyes fixed on his mother's grave.

"You carry a heavy burden on your shoulders already, kid," he said, placing a hand on Michael's shoulder. "Don't carry the weight of the dead." The teen turned around and gave him a slight nod to show he understood.

Some hurts go too deep.

It only makes it worse.

Michael absentmindedly twisted a foosball knob, watching the sun set below the trees and out of sight. He sighed quietly and rubbed his forehead, brushing his messy dark hair out of his grey eyes.

"You up for a game?" a soft voice asked from the doorway. Michael turned around to find his friend, Kirsten Foster, giving him a sad smile. He smiled back half-heartedly.

"Nah," he said, still twisting the knob. He looked away from her. "I was just-" She laughed.

"It's fine." She took a few steps closer to him, biting her lip. "Mike, have you gotten the sense that-"

"-That something's going on here," he agreed with a nod. "It's tense. The students are restless…something's about to happen. I can feel it in the air." She snorted, bursting into sudden laughter. "What?"

"You are such a nerd," she said, clutching her ribs. "Trying to quote Lord of the Rings and failing miserably." Michael raised his eyebrows.

"I think what you should be wondering is why you recognized something that was so poorly quoted," he said with a smile. She smiled, but it faded quickly.

"I know," she said quietly. "Mike, I can feel it too. It's funny. We're X-Men, aren't we? But we're still in the dark."

"I've known the others my whole life, Kirsten," he said thoughtfully. "They only let us become part of the team…so we could protect ourselves. Does that make any sense?" He laughed, but it was bitter, his face grim. She smiled slightly.

"Somewhat." He looked over at her, a frown on his face. He sighed quietly.

"Kirsten…"

"You couldn't have done anything," she said softly. "I hope you know that."

"Your telepathy's off," he noted.

"Oh?"

"I'm not thinking about my mother," he said with a slight laugh. She shrugged.

"I know," she said. "Nothing that's happened is your fault." She gave him a light hug, and whispered, "You're not Superman, Michael. You can only do so much." She gave him a small wave as she left the room. He watched his only friend leave, his grey eyes sad.

"I'm worried about him," Logan said, straight to the point. Xavier nodded.

"As am I," he replied. "Your son's power is potentially limitless. I hope you understand-"

"Oh, I understand," Logan said angrily, pacing back and forth. He stopped in front of Xavier's desk. "Is there any way to help him?" The Professor sighed helplessly.

"If we're correct, and Michael is having difficulty controlling his power…we may be dealing with another battle," he said. "A battle much larger…and much more devastating…than Alcatraz."

"He can cause all that damage."

Xavier nodded slowly. "Yes, he can."

"Does he know?" Logan asked quietly. The Professor put his hands down on his desk and took a deep breath.

"It's unclear how much he knows about his potential," he admitted. "I've told him that he does have extreme power…but not the fear and chaos he could cause with it."

In the hallway, Michael's eyes widened in horror. His heart beating a million miles a minute, he breathed in and out, trying to stay calm.

Why didn't he ever tell me? What was he so desperate to keep hidden?

"But now, my son is having difficulty with everything," Logan said heatedly, unaware that Michael was listening. "He can't even levitate a book without focusing. He's never had trouble before." He groaned and resumed his pacing. "What if…one time…he just…gets to the point of no return?"

"I know the possible outcomes, Logan," Xavier said calmly. "And I promise you, I am doing everything within my power to help him." Michael slid into the room silently.

"Without me knowing?" he asked softly. The Professor closed his eyes and Logan turned around, frowning.

"Look, kid-"

"Relax, Logan," Xavier said, his voice still calm. "Michael, come here." The teenager frowned and slowly approached him. The Professor heaved a sigh and placed his hands on top of Michael's. Memories flashed before their eyes.

"Who was he?"

"Unlimited…"

"I failed you, Mike…"

"…power."

"His name was Logan."

"You couldn't have done anything…"

"I just feel like something's wrong."

"Nothing's your fault, Michael."

His memories clouded his brain and he closed his eyes, shaking. Xavier closed his eyes and kept his hold on Michael's hands, which were trying to wrangle their way out. Then, in both their minds, a blazing inferno overcame the memories that were replaying over in the teenager's mind. His eyes opened wide, as if with fear, and his body was thrown backward, landing on the floor with a thud. The office came into clearer view as he groaned, his long hair falling in his face. He stood up slowly, brushing his hair out of his eyes.

"Did you do that on purpose?" he asked Xavier, frowning.

"I did not," the Professor said slowly. "You fought me." Michael's mouth opened, as if to say something, but-

"Wait a sec," Logan said, his arms folded across his chest. "Whaddya mean, fought?" Xavier looked at the other man.

"Has your experience with Jean taught you nothing?"

"You mean…you can't even read my mind," Michael said quietly, his body shaking.

"I cannot," he said. "I'm sorry, Michael."

"If you can't help me, Professor…" the teenager said, realization coming to him. "Then no one can."

He bowed his head, tears trailing down his cheeks.

I can't go on forever like this.

I'm a danger to my friends…my family.

Somehow this has to end.

Michael turned the corner and opened the door to his room, which was deathly silent. He pulled on the blinds, letting in the first rays of morning light. He flattened down his hair, clearing his throat. He looked out the window and sighed sadly. His eyes slid down, and he picked up a picture frame with a photograph of him and his mother. It had been taken long ago…before death had even been a thought…a fate. As far as he had known. He stared at the smiling boy in the picture, not believing that it ever could have been him. Before he knew it, Michael felt a tear on his cheek. He blinked, but did not bother to wipe it away. He breathed in heavily, knowing that his tears wouldn't change the truth. No matter how much he cried…it wouldn't bring his mother back from the dead.

"Hey," said a gentle voice from behind him. Michael turned around and smiled slightly. He wiped his tears away in one swift motion, something he had learned from his mother, every time that she had cried when he was young.

"Hey…Storm," he said, using her codename warily, still not used to calling the adults in his life by theirs. She smiled softly.

"Remember when you called me Aunt 'Ro?" she asked. He swallowed and nodded, still smiling.

"Yeah," he said lightly. "Before any troubles…" He looked down. "Before death. When I was innocent." She placed a light hand on his broad shoulders.

"There comes a time…in everyone's life…when things suddenly become…clear."

"I know." He gently placed the picture frame back on his desk. "When was it for you?" She smiled.

"I'm not sure," Ororo admitted. "I just know it happened." Michael laughed hollowly.

"Doesn't everyone?"

"Mike…" she started hesitantly, her voice catching. "Are you still angry with me?" He looked out his window, over the trees in the distance.

Sometimes I don't know who to blame anymore.

"I know I haven't gotten over Mom's death," he answered calmly. "I don't know if I ever will. Every day…I still find it so hard to accept that she's gone. I…part of me wants to blame you…wants me to be angry…but in my heart…I know it wasn't your fault." Ororo lightly touched his cheek, brushing hair out if his grey eyes that searched her face.

"Jean would be so proud of you," she said, barely more than a whisper, a smile lighting up her dark eyes. "You're the man she always wanted you to be."

"She shouldn't have had to die for me to become a man," he said quietly, as she relinquished her hold on him. He looked down at the picture again, with almost a look of longing.

"That's not why, Mike," she said with a small laugh. "You've become an adult all on your own. Not held back by your mother."

"Or my father?"

"This isn't about Logan."

"Or is it?" Michael asked bitterly. "Maybe he's the one holding me back."

"No, he's not," Ororo said softly. "There's only one who can hold you back. And that's yourself." She took a few steps backward and left him staring out the window, towards the doomed Alkali Lake…that had shaped the lives of too many of his family and friends.

It all started there…

and it'll end there.

Maybe I am holding myself back.

But I know one thing. That'll never happen again.

Well, what did you guys think? I was very proud of myself for finally typing it, but I want some other input.

If there's anything you want me to change, or anything you want me to add in...I'll try to do it. The whole thing is already written, but I can always add a scene or two if it attracts more readers, since the most reviews I've gotten to a story is 29, which depresses me. But whatever.

Thanks for reading,

Nestaron (Jason)