Ever since the day her visions manifested, Jean had been rather apprehensive towards fire.
Fear had been the word she associated with the visions, the massive blazes, which, despite the scalding air causing the shimmering of her skin, felt unreasonably cold at the same time. Despite how illogical it may have been, it was still a frightening experience nevertheless, prompting her to consult with the professor who made an effort to produce psychic blocks to specifically suppress those night terrors.
That was before the incident in Cairo, however. Jean never expected the powerful flares she kept on seeing in her mind would actually reveal itself physically, the moment she discharged them like uncontrollable wildfire onto En Sabah Nur. The professor's decision to release its shackles had caused significant changes not only in changing the fate of the world, but also something within Jean herself. The unshakable fear had somehow lessened; it was still there, never really going away, but during one of her recent dreams, she found herself drawing closer to the flames, letting herself be engulfed by them until she woke up. She was not as bothered by it as she was before, and she didn't even perform her usual reality orientation exercises. She was not certain if the change was prompted with her unleashing the power that she didn't know was there, but somehow, even a tinge of relief was present knowing she could gradually co-exist with the unknown, blazing force residing within her.
She had not made it known to the professor, or to anyone for the matter, the fact that she was somehow coming in terms with this strange, fiery entity. After all, it only made itself present, through balls of strong heated bouts welling inside her chest, whenever she was in a state of immense discomfort, anger, or any sort of unpleasant emotion, which didn't really happen very often, not in the state of peace in her immediate environment. She had a lot of reasons to veer away from those emotions unlike before, because at present, she had her own sources of happiness.
However, as Mystique had told them, the world could never really be in true peace, and Jean feared the moment when everything would crumble before her.
Her surroundings, a pile of cemented rubble and broken pillars underneath the midnight skies, flickered in uneven intervals as Jean watched her friends struggle against the machines twice their size. From the sides, she saw an injured Kurt hiding beneath the crumbled boulders, trying to conceal the pained cries caused by his bleeding leg.
She was breathing heavily, vision hazy as the earsplitting emergency alarms resounded in the air, along with the panicked inner voices of her fellow X-men that broke her out of concentration. Desperately Jean attempted to rebuild the mental blocks around her mind while evading the flying debris at the same time, yet everything was too overwhelming that she barely had the time to register that one of the Sentinels started charging in her direction. It was already too close when she noticed, and the telekinetic shield she made in haste was too brittle that the Sentinel was able to break it easily like thin ice. Her eyes, which unbeknownst to her began glowing like small candlelight, widened as the machine's arm extended upwards, ready to attack.
"Jean!" Scott's distressed voice reverberated in her ears, but before the Sentinel's fist reached her, a strong gust of wind carried her away, just a split second before the metallic arm crushed the ground where she could have been.
"You 'kay?" she heard him say as he brushed her hair away from her face. Her features softened briefly upon seeing Peter, smiling broadly, an out-of-place yet a welcomed image in the otherwise chaotic environment they were in.
The image didn't last long however, because a pair of Sentinels rushed towards them without warning. Jean managed to slow down both through her telekinetic hold, so Peter proceeded to figure out how to immobilize them, sending a barrage of hits directed on their joints.
"C-come on, Peter, go faster." It was a selfish request, since she knew he was exerting every effort in disengaging them, but her arms were already shaking visibly as fatigue crept up within her. She didn't know how long she could hold them off.
"I'm trying," she heard him respond back, maneuvering back and forth the machines as he attempted to destroy the protective coating above the wires that controlled it. It was already too late for Jean to notice that one of the Sentinels, as if sensing her distress, released a punch unexpectedly powerful enough to break from her hold, aiming right at her. She braced herself for the impact that never came, because to her horror, it landed on Peter instead, who dashed in front of her like a human shield, causing him to be hurled unguardedly on the solid ground.
"Peter!" Ororo's shrill cry echoed as Jean gazed helplessly at the unmoving form of the man who gave her a reason to smile every single day.
From then on, every semblance of control collapsed as she let herself be submerged by the vigorous fire lying dormant within her ever since she unleashed it in Cairo. With a flick of her arm, the Sentinels in her vicinity were submersed in flames, quickly burning to nothingness. The fire was growing stronger, and she turned to the other Sentinels facing her teammates, ready to pulverize them to ashes when Peter's voice reached her ears.
"J-jean. . ." It was barely a whisper, yet she turned her head to him immediately and saw how he was struggling to keep his eyes open. It was enough to snap her mind back to reality, the golden glow in her eyes dying out as she scanned her surroundings, witnessing the horrified expressions of her friends.
A hiss of pressure was released as the giant doors of the Danger Room opened, revealing Hank, who wasted no time in pressing his newly-engineered controller, causing the holographic images of the ruins to disappear and the Sentinels to an abrupt stop.
Peter.
Jean's first instinct was to scamper onto her feet, to approach Peter, to make sure he was alright, but Ororo's arm halted her in her tracks. Jean looked at her, who only shook her head as Hank hastily checked his unconscious form to monitor his pulse, before cautiously carrying him out of the Danger Room. Ororo squeezed her shoulder shortly before running off to where Kurt was, who was being assisted by Scott in standing up.
For a brief moment, her eyes trailed down the ashes settling on her boots. She stared at her hands, feeling the heat lingering in her palms.
Soon enough, after being treated of their wounds consisting of minor scratches and bruises, Jean, alongside Scott and Ororo, wordlessly waited outside the biomedical facility — whether out of fatigue or anxiety for the safety of their friends or both, Jean wasn't sure. She was certain though, that the three of them released the breaths they were holding as soon as the door opened, with the professor signaling them to go inside.
Jean swiftly pushed herself off the wall, unmindful of the sting from the strained muscles, and entered the facility, dragging her feet towards the bedside where Peter was lying. Her face brightened upon seeing he was awake, his head sporting some bandages rather than his usual goggles.
"Peter," she muttered with relief. She would've hugged him if he wasn't in such a tender state. "You're okay."
"Of course I am." His voice was hoarse, yet a tired smile made its way to his face. "It would take a force a million times stronger than those metal crap to wipe me away from this horrible universe."
"I'm okay too," Kurt mentioned from the other side, showing off his toothy, awkward grin. Jean responded with a small smile as Scott and Ororo approached them.
Mystique apologized profusely for her miscalculations, completely taking responsibility for the unfortunate incident, because it had been her decision to include the prototype training Sentinels despite knowing that Hank was still in the process of developing it. Hank immediately came to her defense, telling them he was at fault too for not preparing appropriate security measures in cases of emergency, like what had occurred to them.
"You could've gotten us all killed," Scott said bitterly, the furious glares she knew existed underneath the scarlet lenses of his glasses.
Jean knew it was an honest mistake; after all, neither Mystique nor Beast were perfect beings. Nevertheless she'd be lying if she said a part of her didn't agree with Scott, the resentment seeping in her veins. It was a lot different from Cairo, where it was uncontrollable, where they didn't have much of a choice in the matter. Inside the Danger Room, while not exactly an easy walk in the park either, she knew their mentors were in charge, providing them with just the right amount of challenge, if not slightly over. The injuries, the trauma, it could have all been avoided.
However, even without reading his mind, Jean knew that his frustration, along with the other's, also stemmed from the fact that none of them was strong enough to overcome such obstacles. Jean felt the same way; if given a choice, she didn't want to have to channel the inner blazes whose depths were currently unknown for her.
Neither of their blue-skinned mentors said anything else, knowing the harsh possibilities of Scott's words. It was the professor who broke the silence, who she knew was equally disappointed with their negligence. Despite that, he reminded them that nothing could be gained from pointing fingers, and that the brighter side was none of them got seriously hurt, and that indeed, everyone had a lot to work on.
By the end of it, they were also faced with the grim reminder on how defenseless they could be in face of threats such as those, and how easily their lives could be swept away in a blink. Her anger towards Mystique died down, reminding herself that if it weren't for her, the mutants wouldn't be enjoying the freedom they were experiencing. Jean had been very young back then, yet she was aware of the events that transpired in Washington, D.C. If Raven ended up killing Trask, with the whole world watching her, no doubt the government would see mutants as threats, approving of the Sentinel program. A horrified chill came over Jean imagining a future overrun by those mutant-killing machines.
The following day, Jean didn't have the heart to go to school, staying in her room for the entire morning. The professor understood, allowing her, along with the other X-men, to take a break after the whole Danger Room fiasco. He was also aware how traumatizing the experience must've been that he didn't even think of bringing up her fiery display of powers just yet.
It was afternoon already when Jean had walked outside the mansion, passing by the lake, quietly nodding at the students smiling at her. After moving past several familiar trees, she reached her intended destination, but learned that someone had already beaten her to it. She glanced at the person laying on her favorite spot, one leg perched up his knee as he casually listened to his walkman.
"It's rude to stare, y'know," he said without looking at her. Jean found herself chuckling at the familiarity of the words.
"Shouldn't you be resting?" she asked, echoing the words when she first interacted with him, at the same place. She treaded towards him, sitting just beside him as he straightened his back, removing the earphones from both sides of his head.
"Nah, my room feels too cramped." He stretched his arms upwards before facing her. "Besides, this spot seems like a perfect place to rest. Now I kinda understand why you like it so much, the shades of the trees and the breeze of air are just perfect. I might just steal it from you."
"Excuse me," she lashed out, pushing him playfully with her shoulder, "Go find your own spot."
A dash of wind blew her hair out of place, and just after she blinked Peter was beside her again, waving a twig as he gestured towards the ground. 'THIS BELONGS TO PETER,' it said in a sloppy handwriting. He sported his usual mischievous grin. "Too late."
Jean attempted to snatch away the twig but his arm evaded quickly. She swung her other hand but still missed since Peter was able to dodge perfectly. "Ho-hum. A bit sluggish today, eh, Jean?"
She exhaled hard, pursing her lips. "You do know that I'm going easy on you just because of your head injury." She swerved her arm as if to grab the twig again, but instead, she veered her hand towards the side of his face, completely catching him off guard. Jean tried hard to suppress her laughter at the dumbfounded look on his face.
Then she pinched his cheek, hard.
"Ow, ow, fine, fine, you win," he said, rubbing his cheek as soon as she released her fingers, "We can share this spot, okay?"
Jean shook her head, placing her hands on the sides of her waist. "Shouldn't I be the one who gets to decide on that? But fine."
Neither said anything else, just exchanging sheepish smiles. She knew that they both knew it was the outcome they were expecting out of their little banter. Moments later, they were content in sharing the serene whispers of the wind, calming her mind and drifting her worries away.
They had been resting their backs on the grass when Peter called her attention. "Mind if I ask you something, Jean?"
It wasn't often for someone with an impulse control like him to ask for permission, especially when it came to conversations, so Jean already had a hunch it wasn't something irrelevant.
"In the Danger Room, what was that I saw? I mean I was kinda drifting on and off consciousness, but I'm pretty sure I saw. . ."
"Fire," she continued for him, triggering the familiar, odd warmth dwelling in her chest. Unlike before, it no longer possessed the illogical chilly sensation; instead, it seemed to have glimmered with something akin to intimacy. "Yes, it was fire. You weren't seeing things."
"I see," Peter uttered back, and there was a distinct pause before he continued, "But. . . how? The last time I remember, controlling fire wasn't included in your mutant description."
"It's something way beyond that," Jean revealed, staring blankly at the orange skies above them, "To be honest, it isn't something I understand fully too."
If there was something that day which caused the inner fires to further escalate, it was Peter's next request.
"Could you show it to me, then?"
Her immediate thought was no, it was impossible. After all, it only materialized itself in times of distress, when she was subdued with adverse emotions. It would never happen in Peter's presence, unless something similar happened like in the previous day. . .
No, Jean wouldn't want that.
However, the inner fires responded to her, which flickered in an unusual comforting manner, connecting to her in a way it didn't before. Before she knew it, her body started to glow in a faint light and she was starting to float in midair, startling Peter, who began to sit up and glance at her in wonder.
"Whoa," was the only thing coming from his mouth as she was gently landed onto the grass once more, the blazes dissipating at the same time.
Jean looked at her hands which had been previously consumed with flames that didn't burn her. "You . . . weren't afraid?"
She watched how Peter shrugged, giving her a reassuring smile. "There aren't many things that I'm afraid of."
For a moment, she recalled him telling her how he wasn't afraid of his father. She didn't know to what extent were the truth in his words, but somehow, it was still comforting hearing it from him. "Okay," she said, tenderly leaning her head sideways towards his, only to accidentally bump on the spot where his bruise was, causing him to flinch.
"Ow."
"Ah! I'm so sorry — !" She immediately pulled back, her arms held up in panic before Peter enclosed his hands with hers.
"Relax, relax. I have a pretty hard head," he said while knocking his fist lightly on it, "Besides, I'd be willing to have it knocked over and over again if it means saving you."
His words triggered a warm, tinkling feeling in the pit of her stomach. "Peter. . ."
He seemed to have realized the deeper meaning behind his words, and he looked away rather bashfully, scratching the side of his cheek. "O-of course we are the X-men after all, and we gotta look after ourselves and save each other's backs considering our great mission for this world in protecting our fellow mutants—"
He stopped when Jean pressed a finger against his mouth shortly before pulling him closer, their lips finally meeting. It was light and chaste, as if neither of them knew how to go on, before Jean pulled away.
"Sorry, I had to," Jean said, holding the back of his neck as Peter started caressing her hair, "I know you were never good with words and confrontations."
"There's nothing to be sorry for. It is true, I'm more of a man of actions than of words." It was him that pulled her closer this time, as he deepened the kiss unlike the first. Jean closed her eyes. For a moment, all that ever registered in her usually occupied mind was how soft his lips felt against hers, how the spring breeze cooled the warm surge in her body, and how the butterflies fluttered strongly in her gut. After a while they pulled away, panting softly as their foreheads rested on each other.
"No fair though, I was supposed to be the one initiating it, like I got it all planned in my head and was totally prepared to do so after my speech."
"I can't believe I'm saying this, but you were too slow, Peter." She chuckled. Who knew she'd be the person to tell him that? "You still got your desired results either way, right?"
He chuckled too, tickling her nose with his. Jean giggled even further, the warmth spreading from her cheeks all the way down her body.
She knew, the fire she felt towards the man in front of her was unlike the one she was uncertain about, and Jean was already certain, willing to let herself be consumed by that specific blaze.
A/N: I finished this a bit later than I intended due to work-related things, but here it is! For octoberfangirl, I hope this doesn't feel like a year's worth wait, hehe! Thank you guys again for your lovely feedback! :)