The Danger Room was sweltering – like, dangerously hot. Jean was sweating, and their X-Men suits, as high tech as they were, weren't the most breathable.
"God, Storm, what is that – a volcano?" Quicksilver suddenly became visible, slowing down long enough for them to see him.
"It's a sirocco," Storm managed to gasp out as she steered it toward the robot that was attacking them. "A desert wind."
"Well, could you cool it down a little?" Cyclops said, in between shooting blasts from his visor. "We're dying in here."
"Ja, every time I go bamf I get a mouthful of sand," Nightcrawler added.
"Guys, focus, please." Hank's voice cut in over the loudspeaker. "I've been tweaking the programming on the robots to make them more adaptive."
"That means you need to work as a team," Raven added from the control room. Quicksilver mouthed "as a team" along with her, and the others tried to hide their grins at that. It was Raven's favorite phrase.
"All right, let's do this," Cyclops said, squaring his shoulders to face the robot, which was shaking off the effects of Storm's latest wind blast. "Nightcrawler, teleport up on its back and see if you can pull some cords loose. Quicksilver, you distract it. I'll provide covering fire. Storm – cool it down in here."
"Wait a second, who made you the leader?" Storm scoffed. "New plan – let's just have Jean explode and end this thing."
"Storm!" said Hank and Raven over the loudspeaker. At the same time, Cyclops shouted, "Storm, cool it DOWN!"
"Fine!" Storm yelled back. Suddenly, the temperature dropped precipitously. Their sweat froze on their skin as frost crept up the walls of the Danger Room.
The robot tried to shake one foot loose, then the other, but they were frozen to the ground. The cold climbed up the robot until even its head was frozen solid.
The others watched in disbelief as Storm walked over, jumped, and kicked the robot hard in the chest. It fractured into thousands of pieces, and Jean instinctively used her telekinetic abilities to stop the flying fragments before they could hit her teammates.
Hank and Raven came rushing in. Storm swept past them and out of the room, her head down.
"What. Was That?" Raven asked through gritted teeth. Hank tried to hold her back with a hand on her arm and a low "Raven…" but she shook him off and stalked over to where the four new X-Men stood, looking stunned and shaking ice crystals out of their hair.
"Hey, don't look at us, that was all Storm," Scott said, putting his hands up defensively.
"No," said Raven, putting a warning finger in his face. "That was on all of you. That's exactly what happens when you don't work as a team."
"Storm manages to defeat the bad guy singlehandedly?" Peter said laconically, goggles pushed up and arms crossed over his chest.
"No!" snapped Raven, turning to face him. "In here – maybe. Out there – you'd all be dead." She took a deep breath. Hank walked up and stood slightly behind her, quiet and solid, supporting her.
Raven spoke to all of them, more even-keeled now. "Look. I know how it feels, to have all this power and not be able to totally control it. Combine that with teenage hormones and you've got a recipe for…" she trailed off and indicated the fragments of the robot – "well, for this.
"But Charles believes in you. We all do. So basically, my point is, it's time to get your shit together and work as a team. The world needs the X-Men."
Jean scanned the room. Scott felt embarrassed, but held his chin up. Kurt was his same innocent self, full of the desire to make them all proud. Peter was a deeper thinker than his flippant exterior revealed, and he was pondering Raven's words harder than any of them.
She could feel Ororo, a burning ball of confusion and anger back in her room.
And then Jean felt a calm, wise presence just outside the door.
"Well said, Raven," said Charles with a small smile. Raven turned, startled. "Yeah – I didn't mean to curse at them, but –" she trailed off. Then she looked Charles in the eye and said, "I'll go talk to Ororo."
"I think that would be the best course of action," Charles said gently.
Raven left the room, and the remaining X-Men looked at Professor Xavier. "Oh, I'm not going to make a speech," he said. "Hank – they're all yours." Hank nodded.
As he left the room, Charles paused and said, "Jean – a word?"
She followed him out. Her nervousness had nothing to do with what had just transpired in the Danger Room. All she could think was, This is it. This is the moment when he confronts me, and I lose it all. Lose…her.
They went into Professor Xavier's office. Jean shut the door and then sat as the professor went behind his desk. When he looked at her, his eyes were kind, and she took that as an encouraging sign.
"Jean," he began. He rested his elbows on the desk and interlaced his fingers, watching her carefully. Then he let out a little laugh. "I'm sorry – I confess, I don't quite know what to say. I suppose the point is that I'm concerned about you."
"Concerned?" Jean said, for lack of anything better.
Professor Xavier nodded. "I apologize for not speaking with you sooner. With all the efforts to get the school running again, and dealing with –"
"The almost-pocalypse?" Jean broke in.
The professor chuckled at that. "Yes, with all of that." He sighed. "Well, the point is, there's been a lot going on, but that's no excuse for not checking in with you more often."
Jean shrugged. "I'm okay, really. I think I'm coping fine, all things considered. Giant bird-shaped fiery things, you know."
"Of course, you're doing admirably," the professor said. "And I don't mean to pry – but I have been sensing a lot of nervousness, and it seems to be directed at me specifically. Is there anything I can do?"
Jean thought hastily. "I just…since the battle, I've felt this darkness at the edges of my consciousness, and I was worried that you would sense it and be afraid of me."
Charles's expression softened even more. "Jean…I would never fear you. You're amazingly powerful, yes, but you have a good heart and know the right thing when you see it." He paused. "This darkness, though – I'd like to help. Is there someone here you'd feel comfortable talking to?"
"I'm already talking to someone," Jean blurted out without thinking. Betsy's face flashed in her mind, and she hoped the professor didn't see it. "I mean…I can talk to my friends if I'm feeling down."
"Yes, quite," said the professor, pensively. Jean couldn't read his expression, or his mind. But then he smiled at her and said, "Thank you for the conversation. I am here for you, anytime."
Jean nodded and let herself out.
It had been an exhausting day both physically and mentally, and later, as Jean nestled under her covers and closed her eyes, sleep came almost instantly.
But despite her exhaustion, she refused to miss out on her time with Betsy – she was coming to crave it, for how it made her feel stronger, for how it gave her something that was just hers, and for other reasons she wasn't quite ready to articulate yet.
Jean found herself on the astral plane and felt Betsy behind her. She turned and grinned instinctively – she couldn't help herself. She plopped down next to Betsy (does it count as 'plopping' if you're on the astral plane and there's nothing to plop?), their shoulders touching.
Hi honey, how was your day? Betsy said dryly.
Oh, you know. Went to school, hung out with my friends, read a few minds, faced off against killer practice robots. The usual. You?
Betsy started to stand, to get into position for their usual mental sparring practice, but Jean placed a hand over her arm, keeping her down. Hey. Really. What did you do today?
Betsy looked at her like she was crazy. What does it matter?
Jean turned to face Betsy's side, sitting cross-legged, realizing finally that she was still holding on to Betsy's arm. She crossed her hands in her lap instead. I'm not, like, digging for intel. I just…think about you sometimes, during the day, and wonder what you're doing. She blushed (dammit), and she saw Betsy's answering smirk.
What do you want to hear, Red? Jean actually gasped a little and clapped a hand to her mouth at that. What? Betsy said, a little annoyed.
I think that's the first time you've called me anything other than "kid." Jean bit her lower lip and grinned at the older woman. Red. I like it.
It's because you blush so damn much, Betsy grumbled. Or because of your stupid hair. Take your pick.
Anyway… Jean prompted. What do you do all day?
I don't know, Betsy sighed. I read a lot. World news, books, magazines, anything I can get my hands on. I get money for my living expenses – don't worry your pretty little head about how. I don't hurt anyone.
She paused, and then went on. Jean could feel how unsure she was and held her breath (or did she? She never knew in this weird place). I think about…what to do with you. Here. How to help you control your powers.
Jean smiled and ducked her head a little at that. Oh! she said. I almost forgot – Professor Xavier finally talked to me today.
Betsy whipped around to face her, suddenly intense. What did he say? she said, grabbing Jean's upper arm.
He…not much, Jean said. She would have squeaked it out if they'd been in the real world. He didn't pry or anything. Just said that he can tell I'm nervous around him, asked what he could do to help, asked if I have anyone to talk to.
She put her hand on top of Betsy's, which was still clenched around Jean's arm. He doesn't know anything. Really.
Betsy swallowed heavily and pulled her hand away. He's our biggest threat.
He only has my best interests in mind, Jean said a little indignantly.
Betsy snorted. Yeah, until they conflict with his. And what then? Where does that leave us? She looked intently into Jean's eyes and then scoffed when she heard the thought that flashed through Jean's mind. Oh my god, are you really making a big deal that I used the word 'us'? It's a normal word. It's a simple first-person plural pronoun. Don't let it go to your head. She turned back to the way she'd been facing before, laying her arms over her bent knees.
Jean was actually a little amused by that last rant. I don't know…you gave me a new nickname, said I'm pretty, used the word 'us'…if I didn't know better, I'd think you were starting to warm up to me a little.
Betsy looked at her darkly. I'm not even going to roll my eyes at that, she said. Not even worth a response. She sighed. Now can we please get to it? I don't want to be here all night.
Jean hopped to her feet and reached down, as always, for Betsy's hand. One of those moments of courage hit her, and she kept a tight grip on Betsy's hand even after they were both upright. You sure about that? she smirked. Now Betsy did roll her eyes, and pulled her hand away as always.
They faced off, about 10 feet apart. They could easily have done this sitting down, but it felt more authentic to stand, like they were dueling.
Their training followed a similar pattern each time. Jean would practice cloaking her mind, and Betsy would attempt to penetrate those defenses. They started out with innocuous thoughts, like Jean's lunches by the ruined tree, and worked their way up to memories that Jean truly wanted to keep secret.
After several weeks of doing this, Jean finally felt like they were making progress. She was about to say so, but she saw a defeated look in Betsy's eye and walked over to her. What's up? I feel like we're getting better at this, she said.
Yeah, but are you sure that's a good thing? said Betsy.
I don't know what you mean, Jean said honestly.
It's like (Jean felt her grasp for a metaphor – one of the most fascinating things about being in someone's mind was when they were fumbling for something on the tip of their tongue), it's like if the author of Twilight were helping Shakespeare become LESS talented, Betsy grumbled.
Jean thought about that, smiling. Hmm…I'll forgive you for going with Shakespeare, that's sort of cliché, but I'll definitely associate you with sparkling vampires forever now, so thanks for that. Betsy shot her a look, but there was a smile not very well hidden behind it.
I see what you're saying, though, Jean said more seriously. You don't have to worry that you're, like, neutering me or something. This is just about playing better defense. Betsy nodded, but Jean could feel that she wasn't convinced.
Then Jean grinned again. So, Twilight, huh? Did you just, like, wander into the supernatural teen section at the library? I mean, clearly you'd be interested in supernatural teens…I mean, not interested interested…I mean… She trailed off and looked at her feet.
Betsy actually laughed watching that. Then she got serious and put two fingers under Jean's chin, tilting her face so they could make eye contact. Not all supernatural teens, she said.
Jean's breath caught in her throat and her eyes flicked subconsciously to Betsy's lips. They stood there, frozen, for a long moment. Betsy's fingertips trailed lightly from Jean's chin down her jaw and just barely grazed her neck before she pulled them back, took a step away from Jean, and cleared her throat.
All right, that's enough for tonight…Red, she said.
Jean shook her head to clear it. Then she grinned. Whatever you say…Freckles.
She was still giggling about Betsy's resulting eye roll when she woke up the next morning.
