Not So Different: I've been compared to her for most of my life, and I'm tired of it. Now, she's dead and I'm here, practically taking her place amongst old friends. But, now I'm left wondering what was so different about us after all.

Disclaimer: I do not claim nor hope to have any ownership over the X-Men or any other hereto mentioned Marvel characters. I do, however, have claim over Mackenzie Benton, Aubrey Howell, Bernadette Benton, and any other original characters found within this work of fanfiction. Don't bother suing me – I'm poor and you couldn't squeeze anything out of me if you tried.

Rating: This story is rated T for language, pathos, and brief nudity and sexual content.

"Excellence is an art won by training and habituation. We do not act rightly because we have virtue or excellence, but we rather have those because we have acted rightly. We are what we repeatedly do. Excellence, then, is not an act but a habit." - Aristotle

-Chapter Thirteen-

"Correction, Mr. Keller," I narrowed my gaze at the young man kneeling on the bed of grass in front of me. "Assuming that your opponent is weaker than you is not the best course of action."

He glanced up at me, his chest heaving as sweat beaded down his brow profusely. The standard training uniform for such a nice day - comfortable running shoes, shorts, and a tank - seemed to do little to keep him cool under the scorching afternoon sun. "Yeah. Well. Whatever," he grunted.

Lips pursed, I lifted a hand and righted the park bench that had been toppled in our brief sparring match, eyes never leaving his form. "You have a great deal of brute strength, but you lack finesse. Stand up," I ordered gently, folding my arms over my chest as he staggered to his feet and stretched out his aching limbs. "Again."

He lifted his hands slowly, blue eyes narrowed in absolute concentration as he focused on the arrangement of tulips that I had spread out in a semicircle in front of him. The object of the exercise was to force him to strengthen the muscle, so to speak, that controlled his telekinesis.

During the first few training exercises in the Danger Room, he had shown a great deal more promise than I had anticipated after Emma had explained that she had personally groomed him. I trusted the woman's judgment far less than I trusted her personally. Yet, I had been delightfully surprised when Julian Keller had effortlessly swiped away a car moving at full speed and sent it careening out of sight. He was able to form telekinetic shields around himself or another person with ease, and the shield itself had withstood a brutal attack from both Voltic and Colossus.

And yet, when asked to lift another person in the air, he had nearly caused Jubilee to lose a limb. What was more, however, was his inability to expand his shield to include a larger group. He smashed a boulder into millions of pieces with a brute telekinetic force, and could not lift all of the single pieces at will.

Yet, after our second session alone, he had already shown improvement. The strain it caused him was evident in his haggard features and sweaty appearance, and yet he rarely muttered a complaint. I assumed it was because of Emma's grooming, and I wasn't entirely wrong.

"I see you're still at these pointless practice sessions," she called out as she crossed the lawns to stand next to me. I'd sensed her presence, and had watched as she swept out of the patio doors and across the immaculate lawn dressed in a skimpy outfit that would have made a lesser woman extremely self-conscious. "If anything, you should have him practicing his lifting capabilities.

I spared her a glance, eyes raking over her form before focusing on Julian yet again. "Emma, which of us is a telekinetic?"

She let out a short huff of air as she brushed her long ash-blond hair locks out of her face. "I hardly see what that has to do with it."

"It has absolutely everything to do with it," I insisted as I glanced over at her, ignoring the few strands of hair that managed to pull free of my ponytail. "Telekinesis is a lot like telepathy; it's all about the strength of your mind. Yet, it takes practice and control in order to be precise, to perform at a certain level. He shows a lot of promise," I admitted begrudgingly.

"He certainly does," she agreed, placing her hands on her hips as we watched him slowly pluck the petals of the tulips one by one. His goal was to pluck each petal one by one, forming the shape of a flower with said petals while keeping all of the flowers in the air in the bundle. I knew it was straining, and if the quivering mass of tulips were any indication - he wasn't enjoying himself. "I suppose that I should be thankful that you're willing to work with him at all."

"And I suppose I should be considerate of the fact that it's not entirely his fault that you were his guide. After all, it's not exactly his fault that you're an unethical, bigoted bi-"

"Now, now, Mackenzie," she clucked her tongue, batting her lashes in my direction as she turned to position herself between Julian and myself. "Surely our little chat the other day eased the tension between us? I grow tired of the constant bickering."

Instead of replying, I focused my attention on Julian, frowning to myself as the tulips in his telekinetic grasp continued to shake slightly. I've agreed to remain here on a probationary basis, Emma. Until I'm certain that your intentions are not the least malevolent, I remain undecided. I cast her an appraising look before clearing my throat, causing Julian's project to fall to the lawn in tattered shreds.

He hissed a number of curses under his breath as he brushed his fingers through his short black hair, blue eyes narrowed at the flowers at his feet. "Dang, I was close that time."

"It's important to be able to multitask," I assured him, lifting a hand and sending the flowers careening into the air in a cyclone. "You have to be able to file everything away and keep it organized. It's like splitting your mind into different compartments in order to keep track of it all. While it sounds a bit daunting, it's entirely possible." I paused, sparing Emma another glance before dropping the flowers and their discarded petals in a paper bag that I'd brought along for cleanup. "The important question is how do you feel?"

His shoulders went lax as he used his own telekinesis to ease the paper bag out of my telekinetic grasp to fold the top of it carefully. "Tired," he admitted glumly, dropping the bag on the ground at his feet. "I literally feel like I just ran ten miles, barefoot, in the blistering hot sun without any breaks or water. Oh, hi Miss Frost."

"Hello Julian," she offered him a curt nod. "I see that your private sessions with Dr. Benton are going well. Would you mind excusing us?"

He nodded quickly before jogging back toward the patio door that she had left open, sparing a quick wave over his shoulder before disappearing inside.

Ignoring her, I turned on my heel and walked toward the greenhouse, intending to check in on Ororo; she had disappeared inside some hour ago. A cold shiver raced up the back of my neck, making me shudder as she brushed against my mind. "Did you want something?" I sighed, pausing to turn and look at her.

She was a startling contrast to the colorful scenery around her. Despite the fact that she claimed to no longer be part of the Hellfire Club, she was garbed in all white. Her outfit alone turned the heads of most of the male population and was very form-fitting. "I think it is long past time that we talk about this rift between us."

Rift? I spat, balling my hands at my sides. I have nothing to say to you after the way you manipulated those kids, Emma. I had thought your terrible actions at that event were appalling, but what you did to those children topped even that.

I can assure you that I am well aware of my past wrongdoings, Mackenzie. Her eyes were cool and calm as she slowly folded her arms across her chest. We got along well enough when we attended school here, did we not?

I thought back to a time long since passed, to a time where we had once been hesitant friends. Emma had only been a part-time student the year that I'd attended Xavier's School for the Gifted. She visited a few days a week, and we'd been at least hesitant friends. Due to our similar gifts, she, Jean, and I had worked together with the Professor. Yet, even before Jean went off to college, there had been a definite rift between the three of us that had been evident to the others.

We were too much alike, I admitted, feeling a bit ashamed at the realization. We both came from money, had a clear grasp over our powers.

We both loathed the way that Jean constantly made herself out to be a martyr, she murmured, no emotion at all in her mental voice. She was so scared of herself, and hated the fact that we relished in our control.

You make it sound like we were conceited. I clenched my jaw as I considered her point of view. When I'd first joined the Xavier Institute, I was nearly seventeen. My mutation had manifested when I was twelve and I had learned to cope with my telekinesis and my telepathy over the next several years. Of course, Xavier had helped me to gain even more control over my telepathy; which at the time had been sorely lacking. Jean had been working with him for over five years, and yet I had more control, more raw power, than her.

Conceited is a strong word. I would prefer to think that we were simply comfortable with our limitations. We were familiar with our strengths, our weaknesses, and knew how to improve. She crossed the distance between us slowly, her icy blue eyes never leaving mine. It wasn't fair of Xavier to pit Jean against us; whether we were separate or united.

I furrowed my brow as I offered her a curt nod, thinking back to the multiple times that we had faced Jean on the astral plane. She'd had so much raw power that it was often overwhelming, and yet she'd always lacked the strength, the perseverance to use it to her advantage. She was always so afraid of herself, so afraid to let go.

She wasn't afraid to sacrifice herself for them, she murmured softly, pausing when she stood next to me. Almost hesitantly, she reached over and rested a hand on my shoulder, her perfectly manicured fingernails digging into my skin gently as she squeezed my shoulder reassuringly. Xavier claims that she'd gained more control over her telekinesis, but it wasn't until the dam broke that she really showed her full potential.

I swallowed thickly, picturing the scene that had been described. That's what doesn't make any sense, Emma. If she was able to hold back that great of a force- something that I find surprising considering her past- and power up the Blackbird at the same time... Why in the hell didn't she do it all while she was onboard?

She remained motionless, her lips curving into a faint smirk as she retracted her hand and started walking toward the greenhouse yet again. I remained rooted in place, my eyes focused on the green grass as the wind nipped at my hair.

You and I both know the answer to that question, Mackenzie. Though, I'm sure we have varying opinions. Jean was a martyr. She never even considered staying aboard. She's never viewed the world as realistically as the rest of us.

She saved their lives, I managed, closing my eyes tightly. Part of me wanted to think that if I had been there that things would have been different. If I had been there, Jean and I would have been able to work together in order to hold the water back so that Scott and Ororo could get the jet off of the ground. If I had been there... At least her grand hurrah counted for something.

Indeed. Now, you may want to scurry on and finish changing for your date tonight. Oh, don't glare at me like that, darling. Strengthen your shields. Any meager telepath could see that you have a certain blue man on your mind.

Clenching my fists at my sides, I waved a hand over my shoulder and caused the greenhouse door to swing open viciously at Emma. Of course, her diamond form prevented any serious injury.