I.
The blood had no distinct meaning for him. The cries of anguish were like an unnoticed, soft summer breeze. The final scream before death was nothing more than white noise. Warren, now referred to by his given name, Death, watched as Caliban tore apart another unworthy mutant, someone too weak to be of any use to Apocalypse.
The thick crimson warmth oozed down Caliban's milky white skin, dripping off his face, hands, and arms. He scanned the room for another, but there was no one left alive of the thirty mutants that had congregated in the warehouse.
"Why are we sidetracked from our original goal?" Lorna kicked an unmoving body, cast a look of disgust toward Caliban, and continued toward Warren.
Warren watched Caliban lick the blood from his fingertips. "Though it seems our friend enjoys this a little more than he should, we are not off track from our original plan. We are to herald the coming of Lord Apocalypse. To separate the wheat from the chaff, this is our role. Do you doubt the role Apocalypse has granted us?"
"I don't doubt. It's only a question," Lorna stated then used her magnetic powers to lift herself to continue to survey the area with Famine.
He didn't admit it, but there was something nagging at him. Something told him that what they were doing was wrong, but he couldn't control himself. There was some kind of drive that wouldn't be subdued…a drive to kill for Apocalypse. And all he could do was obey. Yet…
Warren shook off his heretic thoughts and focused on the task at hand. Though he was partly disappointed that they found no allies, Warren found himself enjoying this new surge of power. His metallic wings responded quickly—his feathers, now razor sharp shards, flew with deadly accuracy at his slightest inkling. His heightened agility made his practically untouchable, and his fighting prowess made his foes fall with hardly any effort at all. Warren supposed he should be thankful, but deep down, he knew this wasn't right.
No matter how he tried to shake it or justify it, his faith in Lord Apocalypse was fading. And something new was taking its place. Or maybe it was something old…
II.
For once, Kitty had nothing to say. She watched in awe as one of the heaviest pieces of medical equipment (she couldn't remember the complicated name Dr. McCoy gave it or what it actually did) float by like a feather on a breeze. All about the room, objects both heavy and light were suspended in the air, moving by some means unable to be seen by normal eyes.
But for Charles, he could feel the psychic energy tied to the movement of each object. Though psychokinesis was generally a physical reaction, the mental energy expended by doing such an act could be detected by those with highly sensitive psychic ability. And Charles was one of those people.
And at the center of it was Jean Grey. Like a small girl overwhelmed by the outside world, Jean floated in the air, her knees tucked in and hands covering her head. Her red hair floated around her, making it appear as if she were drifting underwater.
Kitty glanced at Charles, hoping that he had some idea of what to do. She wasn't disappointed. Charles already had his hand to his head and his eyes closed, a sign that he was attempting to psychically communicate with Jean.
"Jean, can you hear me?"
The voice startled her, and she almost went out of control again. It sounded like Charles, but that couldn't be. She had killed him. Yet, she could feel familiar warmth from that voice.
"Who's there?" she reflexively asked, though she already knew. Professor Xavier was alive, somehow. Jean couldn't immediately discern the details, and her initial thought of him being a hallucination were quickly eradicated. And he was there with a student, Kitty Pryde, which quickly made sense when Jean thought about it.
Her telekinesis allowed her to manipulate tangible objects. However, Kitty could turn herself and anyone she was in contact with intangible, which made the physical aspect of Jean's power useless against her and Charles.
Jean unfolded herself, yet remained floating in the middle of the room. "Charles, you're alive. I thought—" she trailed off.
"Listen to me. You've been through a traumatic situation, and you've awakened. But you must control your powers before you tear the mansion apart."
"The mansion? How did I get here? The Phoenix…it—I. Scott!" Jean screamed and collapsed on the floor. Along with her, every floating object clattered to the floor.
"Jean!" Charles let go of Kitty's hand and wheeled over to her. "Get Dr. McCoy!" Charles commanded, but Hank bolted through the door before Kitty could react.
"What happened?" Hank checked Jean's pulse then lifted her onto the bed.
Charles shook his head. "I believe the shock of being alive again overwhelmed her. She only fell unconscious. I can feel a steady flow of brain activity. She should be fine in a few minutes."
"Looks like you've done my job for me, Charles," Hank chuckled.
"My apologies. I know how volatile this situation is," Charles turned to face Ororo, who stood in the doorway, expression darkened at the sight of Jean. Feeling the situation was under control, she sent the others, including Kitty, to check on the rest of the students. She needed to see Charles and Jean by herself.
"Are you now to validate the safety of the students when we now retain the woman that killed both you and Scott Summers? Especially when her powers can reach throughout the mansion without much effort at all."
Charles left Hank's side and closed the gap between them. "Ororo, I know there has been a lot of death and destruction, caused by Jean. But she wasn't herself. Jean—"
"Enough!" Ororo sharply said. A roar of thunder outside shook the windows slightly. "I shall speak to her when she awakens in a few hours. Only after that will I determine a course of action, along with the other X-Men, including you. But until then, though I appreciate your intervention, I would ask that you retire to your bedroom for the night. There will be plenty of time to discuss this."
Charles agreed and wheeled around Ororo, knowing that a full explanation of Jean's situation would fall on deaf ears. "You know, anger doesn't suit you," Charles, without waiting for a response, disappeared around the corner.
Hank finished settling Jean into the med bay, having removed her uniform and tucking her into bed. He set up an overturned medical machine, which Ororo presumed did some kind of monitoring. Without a word, she assisted Hank where she could, rearranging the mess that was brought about only moments ago. In a matter of thirty minutes, the room was back a reasonable state of orderliness.
"He's right," Hank suddenly said as he pushed a large machine against the wall. "If you need someone to talk to, you know that I'll listen."
Ororo thought about just letting everything go, but she caught herself. "After I talk to her, I believe some rest will do me well. I would hope that you would get some rest as well."
"I must check on our younger patient before retiring, but I think a bout of hibernation is in order," Hank chuckled at his own joke, eliciting a smile from Ororo.
"Let me know if this patient wakes up. And thanks, Hank," Ororo smiled before leaving Hank to the rest of his medical duties.
III.
Not even thirty minutes later, Ororo found herself traversing the med bay hallways once again. She went straight to Jean's room, having already told Hank that she wanted to meet with Jean alone, and opened the door. Ororo stepped in the doorway, unsure of what to make of Jean floating lotus style in the middle of the room. Before she could speak, Jean opened her eyes.
"I had a choice. I was floating in a black void, and I was safe. Safe from myself, and the rest of you were safe from me and what I'm capable of. I could've stayed there, tucked away forever. But I wanted to see all of you again. You're my family. I know everything that happened. And I know that it isn't what most of you may think. All I ask is that you give me a chance."
Ororo's expression remained unchanged. "You tried to kill Professor Xavier. And you killed Scott. You would've killed any of us, given the chance. And now you reappear and ask so much of us, when you stole so much more."
Ororo's words stung Jean, but she held her ground. "I can't ask for your forgiveness. I don't think I'll ever get that. I'm asking for another chance. I am an X-Man—"
"You were an X-Man," Ororo corrected.
"You're going to make this as difficult as you can, aren't you?"
"No. It will be impossible. You murdered two of our own in cold blood and countless others. How can we simply let you saunter about this school, our home, without consequence?"
"I never said I wanted in without consequence. I just...I need you. I need all of you."
Ororo crossed her arms, signaling the nearing end of the discussion. "You are to stay confined in this room until I can meet with the rest of the staff to figure out your status. I have an idea of the power you wield, and I know that these walls will not hold you if you do not want them to. But if you are sincere, you will remain here until we make our decision."
Jean frowned. "I see. You don't want me here, do you?"
"Do you understand the word betrayal? You were like a sister to me, Jean. But then you turned into our worst enemy, threatening our own family. What am I supposed to think? How am I supposed to feel? I simply cannot allow you back in here with open arms. I have no guarantee that you are truly who you say you are, and that you will not betray us again. Until I have that reassurance, your status as an X-Man has been revoked, and you are to remain here, without outside contact until I determine it is safe."
"I understand," Jean replied.
Ororo walked out of the door, and as soon as it was closed, she spotted Logan leaning on the wall right outside the door.
"What the hell was that about?" Logan shot.
"You just could not stay away, could you, Logan? Since when did eavesdropping become your forte? This is between Jean and me, so I politely ask that you stay out of it."
"Like hell I will."
"Then I shall tell you to stay out of it."
"Don't do this, 'Ro. Jeanie deserves—"
"Do not even dare tell me what she deserves. Charles Xavier deserved to live. Scott Summers deserved to live. Yet, Charles had his life unexpectedly interrupted, and Scott was not granted the full gambit of what he deserved. Now, you propose that I should grant her a pardon and let her into this school as if nothing happened?"
Logan replied, "You're not—"
"No," Ororo darkly interjected. "I shall not entertain anything else from you. You are still in love with her, hanging on for dear life, doing whatever you can to keep her love. Well, I am not blinded by love. I deal with duty and responsibility, and right now, as headmistress of this school, I am ordering her to be confined to her room, with no outside contact, until we convene to figure out what to do with her."
"You don't know what it's like to lose someone you love."
"Really, Logan? Are you that self-centered that you think you are the only person that has lost someone they loved? My parents were killed before my eyes. I stayed buried underneath rubble for days with my dead parents until we were rescued. You have no right to tell me what I do and do not know about loss."
"I didn't mean—"
"Of course you didn't, but you said it anyways, did you not?" Ororo pointedly asked. "When you begin to think before you speak, we will continue this conversation. Until then, I bid you goodnight, Logan."
Logan knew that he had messed up with Ororo, more than he had in the past. But he knew that if anyone could get through to her, it was him. And to do that, he had to see Jean for himself.
IV.
Jean Grey didn't have to use her telepathy to know who had slipped into her room. He had moved stealthily, much like a stalker eying its prey. But this hunter was after something else, something that Jean ultimately knew she couldn't give him.
From her location, floating lotus style over the bed, her back to the door, she could smell the familiar Cuban cigar aroma that defined Logan. She could feel his disbelief and hesitation, yet the attraction overrode all sense of danger as he moved closer.
Without turning around, Jean said, "You shouldn't be in here, Logan. Besides, every time we meet in the med bay, something unexpected happens."
When he didn't answer, she turned around, lowering herself to the floor. Her emerald eyes locked with Logan's own dark brown eyes, and she saw not the hunter of the wild, but a lone man, brimming with emotions that until he met her, he had long forgotten.
"Jean," Logan searched for the right words to say, but couldn't find them. For him, it was like yesterday when he pierced Jean with his claws, fulfilling her request to be saved, but killing the woman he loved, or so he thought. Now, that same woman stood before him yet again, somehow eluding the clutches of death once again.
"Don't say anything," Jean gently said. She stepped forward and took his hand in hers, and brought it to her face. He felt a tingle surge through his body as he caressed her smooth skin, gazing into her eyes. He let the caress linger for as long as he could, fighting the disbelief that Jean was really standing before him.
She placed her hand on his then gently moved it back down to his side. "You know," Jean broke the silence that had fallen between them, "she's right. You can't hold onto me, Logan. I'm not yours."
It pained Logan to hear that, but at the same time, he was glad she was making a stand. This entire time, there was an unspoken attraction between the both of them that neither one of them opposed, despite Jean's involvement with Scott. But Scott was gone now and there were no barriers or complications to their relationship. Yet, Logan knew Jean was right.
"I had to know that you were alive. I wanted to know that you were really you."
Jean broke their gaze and sighed heavily. "It's hard being here after everything I did."
"It wasn't you—"
"But it was. The power was—is—mine to control. And I couldn't. Professor Xavier wanted to help me, but I didn't help myself. And now, I have to deal with the consequences. I can barely block out the questions, concerns, hatred, and pity that is swirling around. I want to be here, but too much has happened. I'm not welcome here."
"That's not true. 'Ro didn't mean what she said."
"She's right, Logan. About everything," Jean said, confirming to him that she had been eavesdropping on the entire conversation.
Logan raised an eyebrow, "So you think my judgment is clouded too?"
Jean gave him a sincere smile. "No. I appreciate that you're willing to give me a chance, but I have to face this by myself. I turned against the people I considered to be family, using my power to destroy everything in my path. Honestly, I don't know if that can ever be forgiven."
"Forgiveness and redemption. I know those all too well. I've killed men, Jean. I was created to be a killing machine. But if I could be given a second chance then I know that we can do the same for you."
"You may be the only one that feels that way. But thank you, Logan. For everything."
"So what are you going to do?"
"I don't know. Maybe this isn't for me. I'll move out near my parents and teach out there, and hopefully, I'll never end up in a position where I have to use my powers."
"You can't just leave."
"I can't stay here."
"I'll fight for you."
"I can fight for myself. I—" before she could continue, a blinding flash erupted from behind her eyes. She suddenly felt a familiar connection, but something was wrong. It was tainted, being overridden by some other presence, something evil. And there was something else. Ancient. Powerful. Ruthless. Jean pitched forward, overwhelmed by the feelings, and Logan moved quick enough to catch her before she hit the ground.
"Jean! What's wrong?"
Jean looked disoriented and confused. "I—I don't know. I could feel Scott. But there was something else. But I don't know. I can't feel him anymore."
Though Logan felt a hint of jealousy, he had grown to accept Scott. He was the boy scout of the group, the star pupil, which crawled under Logan's skin, but he knew that the team wasn't complete without Scott. And Jean wasn't complete without Scott. If he was alive then Logan would do everything in his power to find him.
"Come on now, darlin'," Logan helped Jean to her feet and over to the bed. "Get some rest, and we'll see if Chuck can use Cerebro to find him."
"Do you think he's alive?"
Logan was silent for a moment. "I hope so."
V.
Jean Grey, dressed in the standard blue and gold training uniform, kept pace with Hank McCoy. At Hank's insistence, Jean donned the uniform, which she had last worn years ago, traded for the battle leathers that they now adorned. Surprised she still fit in it, Jean reluctantly accompanied Hank to the Danger Room. Fortunately, the Danger Room was on a lower level than the med bay, so she didn't have to worry about seeing any students. At least, not yet.
Hank seemed to be able to banter on about anything, which Jean was thankful for. She didn't know what to say to him actually. She remembered him being there on Alcatraz when everything began to go awry. He had seen Jean at her worst. And the most difficult thing was being able to face him after that.
Logan had visited her last night, and Jean sensed that it was harder for him to see her than the other way. In his mind, he had already forgiven her. Unconditionally. She only wished it could be that easy for the others.
Then there was the flash that Jean recognized as Scott's thought patterns. But as quickly as it had come, it vanished. And no matter how Jean searched, she couldn't find it again. She had told Logan about it only because she had been so stricken by the feeling, but she didn't want to say anything to anyone else until she was sure.
Jean attempted to focus on the story Hank was retelling, complete with hearty laughs which interrupted the story.
"—a pie in his face. Of course, Peter was far from amused, but the look on his face was—"
Jean suddenly said, "Hank, I don't know if I can do this."
Hank's playful demeanor turned serious. "I have never known you to so quickly shrink away from a challenge."
"I'm not talking about the Danger Room."
"Neither am I."
Jean stopped. "I hurt so many people, people that trusted me, that depended on me, that looked up to me. My situation is complicated, but in the end, does it really matter? All they saw was me, Jean Grey, kill and destroy with reckless abandon. I can't ever get rid of that."
"And you never will be able to. Such a feat should not be your foremost objective."
"That's just it. I don't know what I'm supposed to do, how I'm supposed to feel. There's so much that's going on inside of my head. Not to mention what everyone else thinks. I don't know what to do."
"Just be the same Jean Grey that you always were. The same Jean Grey that you are now."
"You're talking in riddles."
"Usually, I give my students some parable that relates to the moral I wish to impart, but you are no student. Therefore, I'm assured that you will prove to be the Jean we thought we had lost. Now, this on the other hand," Hank motioned to the entrance of the Danger Room, "I can't say that I'm so easily reassured that you're ready for the perilous, yet strangely satisfying world of simulated battle, young lady."
Jean couldn't help but to smile. She had known Hank since first coming to the school, and now, she felt like she was seeing an old friend after several years apart. And honestly, it felt good. For a moment, Jean forgot about her uncomfortable status in the mansion and laughed.
"Wait, was that sound of laughter projected from the mouth of the young red-head returned to the land of the living?"
"I sometimes wonder if you sit awake at night studying a dictionary. Or maybe a thesaurus. We joked about it all the time."
"We?"
"Yeah," Jean absently replied, feeling her mood fading fast.
Catching the shift, Hank instructed Jean to enter the Danger Room. He also let her know that he would monitor the action from the Control Room.
"You're also a guinea pig. You're the first to use the Danger Room after Forge's and my modifications."
"Great. So should I expect walking test tubes and dangerous robots attacking me?"
"Maybe," Hank slyly replied.
Jean couldn't help but laugh. "Sometimes, you worry me. But I think I'm ready for this," Jean smiled in the direction of the Control Room.
"Okay, Jean. Wait, are you still going by Marvel Girl? You know we only use codenames in the Danger Room."
"Well, Beast, I'll have to decide that one after this session."
The Danger Room was a vast chamber, outfitted with thousands if not millions of photon imagers, capable of creating solid projections with the same consistency and texture as the real-life object. The images could be as bland or intricate as the program needed, leading to amazingly detailed and realistic battlegrounds. Though Jean was no stranger to the Danger Room, its complexity amazed her every time.
Hank's voice resounded from the multitude of speakers around the room. "Jean, I'm loading Program 19837: Mansion Assault."
"I see. A re-enactment of Stryker's raid on the school."
"Affirmative. Beginning sequence."
The program loaded and suddenly, Jean found herself in the front area of the mansion. Everything was intact and no detail was left unaccounted for. Even down to a crumpled piece of paper left behind by one of the students.
The Danger Room mansion was quiet. Too quiet. It was night time outside, but the sounds of the night had long since stopped their symphony, leaving behind a void of silence. Jean anticipated the attack, but felt blind. In most situations, a quick psychic scan would have immediately informed her how many adversaries there were, their relative location, and their intentions. But here, there were no minds to read. Her survival would be strictly based on reacting appropriately to her adversaries, with no warning of their approach.
The moment Jean became comfortable with the silence, it was shattered by the entrance of soldiers crashing through the windows. The living room, hallways, back area—the soldiers, clad from head to toe in black, poured in, and Jean readied herself.
A soldier from the back area got to her first, and Hank shook his head, thinking the soldier had gotten the jump on Jean. But before the soldier could get a good punch in, Jean blocked and delivered a solid, vicious punch to his face, followed by a hard side kick planted in his chest. Of course, her strikes were telekinetically reinforced, amplifying the hit significantly. The soldier fell, soundly defeated. But he was quickly replaced by two more, approaching from the front. Jean caught one mid-punch, blasting him in the face with her elbow and at the same time, simply thought about pushing the other. He flew back and crashed into the wall with such force, his body left a man-sized dent. She finished off the other with a palm strike to the face, crushing his nose. He fell to the ground unconscious.
"My stars and garters. I am indeed impressed by your prowess, no doubt gleaned from our resident brawler, Logan."
Jean had no time to give a witty reply as she was bombarded on all sides by a multitude of soldiers. But never once did she feel overwhelmed or powerless. Now, relying more on her telekinesis, Jean easily manipulated the objects in the room, using tables and chairs as offensive weapons, as well as directly striking her foes with telekinetic energy blasts.
She hadn't even broken a sweat as she manhandled the opponents that Hank kept coming. There were a few that Jean allowed to get close just so she could enjoy the solid impact of actually hitting something. Two more soldiers appeared from two different doorways looking to surprise her, but Jean simply wrapped her thoughts around the one closest to her, letting him hover in midair for a moment, before sending him flying at its partner, effectively taking out the both of them.
Hank watched curiously as Jean handled herself with much more confidence than she ever had before. Even her telekinetic handling was far more superior, manipulating multiple objects simultaneously, regardless of the size.
The pendulum had swung. And Jean had found her middle ground.
His attention was drawn to one of the monitors that kept track of power fluctuations. The red lines were much higher than they should have been, even though Jean's power levels were regularly abnormally high because of her status as an Omega-level mutant. He turned back and watched in amazement as time seemed to slow to a near halt. Jean's arms rose as she lifted herself into the air, her hair and clothes rippling against the raw energy bombarding the environment.
Hank looked to the screen for a classification of the energy radiating from Jean's core, but he found that it wasn't just telekinetic energy, but psychic as well as cosmic energy. As Jean floated, Hank swore he saw the image of a firebird appear around her. A glorious winged image, its wings outstretched to match Jean's extended arms, its beak agape in an eternal, yet soundless cry.
He had never seen anything so beautiful. Radiant light emerged from both Jean and the firebird and bathed the scene in a warm, soothing glow. The light of creation. The glow of destruction. One in the same.
This was much more power than Jean had wielded at Alcatraz. It was a more focused control, purposeful attack with a specific purpose, not to destroy. It was then Hank knew that Jean had full control and understanding of the awesome power she had tapped into.
Suddenly, nothing was anchored to the ground as Jean commanded every object. Both her opponents and objects were tossed away from her in every direction in a telekinetic maelstrom.
Satisfied the threat had been deterred, the firebird evaporated as Jean lowered herself to the ground. The scenery around her dissolved, and she found herself back in the familiar space of the Danger Room.
"Ending the program already?" Jean smiled up at Hank in the control room.
"Well, you just returned to the realm of the living, young lady. There's no sense in wearing you out on your first day. "
Jean started toward the door, but stopped and looked up at Hank. "Don't worry, Hank. This power is mine to control. It won't control me. And for my codename, call me Phoenix."
Notes:
None.