I own nothing!

He kept his eyes open, and watched for alternatives. If he found a solution to this problem, the only issue would be getting the X-men, or even just Jean, to trust him enough to let him use his knowledge. It was impossible, after all, to use the same solution he'd experienced via Clockwork, because the pressure might release the personality she didn't even know she was suppressing. In the end, for now, his actions consisted of research, and hints. Hints that would hopefully alert Jean to her second personality.

Chapter 8: Jean Grey's Voice

When I was three, I noticed voices sometimes. No, not voices, a Voice. It told me what to do sometimes. I once walked out into the street, and the Voice was the only thing that warned me not to. It made me get back onto the sidewalk before anything bad could happen. As I grew older, things happened, odd things, and the Voice stayed with me. It wasn't so much a voice as a feeling, but I thought of it as a Voice. I didn't really give it much thought. After all, didn't everyone else have something to tell them not to do something?

It never really bothered me, and I never told anyone about it. I don't really know why. Maybe it didn't want me to. Whatever the case, it was my friend. It helped me get what I wanted sometimes, and always kept me safe. At least, it kept me safe until Anne.

That day, we were playing Frisbee out in the yard. It was Anne's birthday, and we were both having a lot of fun. Her cake had been white, with green frosting on the edges, and a pink "Happy Birthday, Anne" on it. We made it together, so it was a mess. Still, we were proud of it. It was hard to tell ten-year-olds that a cake looked awful, even though it did. Anne unwrapped her presents, finding all sorts of fun toys, including a green Frisbee. Green was her favorite color, and she was really pleased with it. She got a puppy, too.

"You should play with the Frisbee now, before Hazel gets it!" Anne's mom told us, because she knew that if Hazel, the puppy, got it, it would be chewed up completely. I put on some boots, because it had rained yesterday, and it was still wet and muddy in the dips. The fresh smell of rain was impossible to resist, and we raced outside, ready to play. Of course, the shoes were for appearance's sake only. Anne had done the same, and we walked around to the back of the house, taking off our boots again. The mud squelched between our toes, cold as ice to our still-warm toes. I gave Anne a mischievous look, and we took off for the part of the yard where we wouldn't be observed by the adults.

She tossed the Frisbee first, and I didn't quite manage to grab it, instead falling flat on my face in the mud. Anne helped me up, and we both ran to get the Frisbee back. I beat her, just barely, and waited for her to get back further away. Then, I threw it. She caught it, but the unexpected force I had put into it made her fall on her back. I giggled, and waited as she got up again. We continued to throw it, each time more accurately, until I finally caught it, and gave myself a cheer.

Then, I curled my arm, and threw it as high and hard as I could. It soared over the edge of the sidewalk, and into the well-worn road. We both watched it quietly. Our parents had told us to never, ever go out into the street. My Voice was warning me to not do it, and to let Anne retrieve it. I ignored it, and ran to the side of the road, stopping before the curb. There was a really big curve before our house, and it made it hard to see any cars, but neither of us saw anything coming, so we finally ventured out into the road. The road was so low that it had pools of water and mud. Worms lay on the surface, avoiding the soaking earth at all costs. Grass had washed out into some parts, and it required a bit of maneuvering to reach the frisbee, which was floating on the surface of a shallow pool.

Anne and I each made a grab for it, hoping to be the first to reach it, and therefore, the first to throw it. Anne's hand closed around it triumphantly, and gave me a smirk. Suddenly, we heard a roaring sound. We both whipped around, and saw a huge, to our minds, black car, swerving around the corner. I grabbed Anne's hand, and we ran, fast as we could. The car was weaving back and forth, and we had almost made it, when Anne slipped, nearly carrying me with her. I froze after I reached the side of the road, my momentum the only thing that kept me from standing still in the middle of the street.

I tripped as I hit the curb, and turned around. The black car was bearing down on her. I could see what was going to happen, and I was unable to do anything about it, except stare, and wish I were there instead of her. I felt a sharp pain within my head, like a nail I'd stepped on once, and the car was in front of me. Coming closerclosercloser, shiny metal reflecting the sky, and terrorbonechillingspineshiversterror. I saw the girl on the curb, half turned, eyes glazed, face almost as paniccoldstomachicy as I felt. My gaze went back to the car, something coming too close. Mama says that nothing will ever hurt me, she'll always protect me. Daddy promised, too.

They're wrong, and the car is a few feet away. I try to stumble to my feet, but they're so still and numb from the cold mud. I'm kneeling, almost to my feet. I'll be out soon. I can play with Hazel, and I'll nevereveronceinalifetime go outside into the street again. Crushing impact and I feel no pain, just a jolt, before the pain really starts. The breaks are on, I can hear them screechingscreaming like me. Am I? My mouth is open, and my mind is screaming, but I don't think my mouth is screaming with me.

I feel the ground, like carpetburn, but harder, like sandpaper on my hand, I've done that. There's a jerking sensation, and my body is being pulled apart. I can hear things popping inside me, and the frisbee's broken. My head hits the ground, and for a second I feel something, pressure on my skull. Things cracklepop and I barely see the tread of a wheel as it presses against my ear, before the pain is unbearable and gone and I'm floatingdriftinglostscared.

I'm confused. Where am I? Why is it so dark? A Voice comes to me in the dark, calling for me. It is familiar, and I see something. I don't know how long it has been dark. A flicker, flame, warming me from my fingertips, waking me.

"Wake up! Disconnect. Jean, you aren't dead" It takes me a while to understand the message, and filter it through the voices that aren't my Voice. I can feel the sensation of life, sort of a sensation I've never noticed before. A sort of tingly electrical-warm feeling, pinprickles of pain, just barely noticeable. I want to wake up, and wanting to wake up is what gives me a jolt, pushing me into the realm of light. Because that is where I am, and the walls are white as Mom's napkins. I am on a bed, and I lay there, struggling to think, because I've never realized how noisy places are. I watch as Mom and Dad stumble in, looking spent.

/I hope our baby girl's gonna wake up soon./

/Nearly gave me a heartattack. What the fuck was she doing in the road?/

I recognized the word. Mom always glared at anyone who used it around me, and I'd only heard it a few times, but I knew it was something bad to say, so I said something. "Daddy, we're not supposed to say that!"

Dad froze, before suddenly rushing forward with Mom, and enveloping me in a hug. I felt safe. Daddy didn't do anything other than offer a confused look when I responded to his though that one time, without ever realizing it.

/

I think that it was because of other incidents around the house that he searched for psychologists, before being directed to one, named Charles Xavier. He was famous for his work with tough cases, and admired by his colleagues. He had a wheelchair, and he was nice. He seemed to think this was a fairly regular case, until I did something I had been working on. When I focused really hard, I could hear things other people couldn't. I tried it on him, because it was both terrifying and fun. I knew what had happened to Anne, and why I was her. It was because of this.

From the second I gave a little push, the man turned around as suddenly as a penny can drop. His eyes were wide, and he looked stunned. I tried not to flinch, and succeeded. After all, nobody else knew I could do this; why should he be any different?

I was wrong, and within a month, I was living with him, struggling to understand the nature of my mutant gifts, as I learned to call them.

It was a long time before I began to hear the Voice again, though it subtly guided my actions. It kept me safe from harm, and kept my powers in check. It wasn't until I was seventeen that a power burst was released. I learned to control that, piece by piece, and life went on. It wasn't until Apocalypse that I realized that something was wrong. I blacked out once, twice, and each time, destruction surrounded me. The Voice assured me it was keeping me safe, and I chose to believe it.

Blackouts continued, and my telekinesis and telepathy vastly improved. I kept in control, even though the Voice became louder, because I was me and it was part of me, right? During this time, Mr. Williams, our science teacher, began to act oddly. He watched me constantly, worriedly. Even more odd, he paid closer attention when my Voice was speaking. But he obviously didn't know about it, right? He was very unusual, because he refused to treat us unequally, between us and the humans, I mean. He did tend to snap a little more at Kurt and Amanda than necessary, though. Nobody knew much about him, but I didn't really think about it myself.

Hi! This is your friendly neighborhood writer! I hope you like my Jean POV chapter. Please remember to tell me what you think!

-MiaulinK