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.

"A women under stress is not immediately concerned with finding solutions to her problems but rather seeks relief by expressing herself and being understood." — John Gray

-Chapter Thirty-Six-

It wasn't as easy as I had hoped it would be, for certain. My ears were ringing and it took me a moment to realize we were still being pursued from behind. When I glanced over my shoulder, I was alarmed at the sight of three open-air Jeeps toting around dozens of armed men.

"A helicopter?" I whispered, blinking blearily at the bright skyline as two helicopters moved in swiftly. They would be upon us in just moments. "Jean, we have to hurry. I want you to make a run for it."

She staggered to her feet unsteadily, lacking grace as she jerked me to mine. I groaned as my body was forced into a standing position; I was tired, dehydrated and sore – I wanted nothing more than to sleep for at least a few days straight. "They're lowering the ramp, Mac. They're here."

I followed her gaze and watched as a large group bounded down the ramp, dressed, for the most part, in civilian clothing. Tears gathered in my eyes and emotion caught in my throat as a very familiar-looking blue-furred man raced down the ramp towards me.

Something surprisingly hot pierced my shoulder from behind and I gasped, confused as I staggered to the side and slammed against Jean. She managed to keep me upright even as the vertigo took me by surprise, tilting the world upside down.

They're firing at us, Jean explained as I struggled to erect a shield around us. Oh, Ororo, she whispered through our link, causing me to glance up in confusion as the rain started to fall. It was cold and felt like thousands of tiny needles hitting me at once, but it made me feel so alive.

Jean pulled away from me, leaving me wobbling on my own two feet as she rushed toward the rear of the jet. I watched her as she ran the three hundred or so yards, smiling slightly. My ears rang and I felt a brush of heat and air near my neck and erected a shield around myself, praying that it would hold up.

"You are on the property of the United States Military!" a jagged voice announced over a speaker system – one that probably came from the helicopter that hovered overhead. "Put down your weapons and get face down on the ground or severe measures will be taken."

Severe measures? I thought to myself, spinning on my heel to watch as armed men piled out of their vehicles to race toward me. Shooting at me isn't extreme? I went to lift my arm to help me direct my focus and howled in pain as I realized, rather shockingly, that I'd been hit in the shoulder from behind.

The rage that I felt toward Sinister, toward the helplessness that had left me prisoner and weak for so long, seemed to course through me. I forgot about the X-Men, I forgot about Hank, and I simply seethed.

My hands trembled as more bullets pierced the air, ricocheting off of my shield uselessly. I struck out, shoving my left hand forward and sending one of the large Humvees sailing upwards at least twenty feet into the air. There were shouts of surprise and horror as it hit the ground and exploded, sending pieces of metal and rubber and glass flying.

"Mackenzie!"

I growled as a large helicopter took fire, the large rounds of its M60 machine gun striking the ground just in front of me. I glared at an empty Jeep and watched, practically smirking as it was heaved through the air and struck the side of the helicopter. It weaved and darted as smoke and fire billowed from its rotors – an instant later, the tail seemed to come apart from the rest of it and the helicopter lost altitude quickly as it spun in sharp circles.

"Mackenzie!"

I felt their fear, their doubts and their determination – it fed me energy, fed me with the anger needed to continue fighting. I heard their mental screams of agony as I struck out, swatting them to the side and striking large groups at a time with psi bolts powerful enough to render them unconscious. I did not kill them – they were not worth the agony I would live with.

Mackenzie. Her voice was warm, soothing, as it echoed through our rapport. I fed on her sorrow and despair, basked in her doubts and her fear. Stop. The order was short and to the point and I realized, a moment too late, that the rain had picked up, bringing along with it a terrible wind that felt more like tornado-force winds than a breeze.

Dirt and rocks and pits of weedy grass swirled around me like a cyclonic shield. I realized that I'd summoned it around me without thought and that part of me enjoyed knowing that I was protected from any source of harm.

The armed men, the soldiers, retreated without warning. I watched after them, my shoulder stinging and my head spinning, and threw their injured at them thoughtlessly. Prone bodies, breathing but just barely in some cases, sailed through the air to slam into fencing, other soldiers, and even empty vehicles.

The rain pelted against me and I watched, bemused, as the sky darkened. Gone was the high afternoon sun, leaving in its place a gray and cloudy day. It was the kind of weather that made one think of a storm, of a possible tornado in the near future.

I felt a tingling in the back of my head and spun around slightly, lips parting in a smile as I realized that Hank was standing mere feet away from me. The swirling cyclone of dirt and debris stilled and the gravel and such fell and landed on the ground with a resounding thud.

"Mackenzie."

My lips trembled as I slipped forward, tripping over unseen objects as I fell into his awaiting arms. His mouth opened and closed several times and I sensed that he was speaking, that he was pouring out his very heart and soul – but I heard nothing. I clung to him, buried myself against the dark polo shirt he wore and clawed at his collar. It was a dream, a mirage – it was perfect.

The cacophony of noise died away slowly and I was left confused as I heard screams and howls, only to realized that I was the one making all of the noise. I clenched my jaw and shuddered from head to toe, confused and a tiny bit humiliated at how exposed and vulnerable I felt at that very moment.

"I cannot believe you are alive. I was at your funeral, pet. I watched them lower an empty casket into the ground."

I was jerked away from him and my head spun and my shoulder exploded in pain as I was pulled into a throng of people. My senses were overloaded as I was handed from person to person, practically manhandled as they squeezed and cried and clung and petted.

"We need to get out of here!" I blinked at Iceman, one of the few in full uniform. He seemed taller, older, as he motioned back toward the Blackbird. "Cyclops! Fall back!"

My ears were still ringing as I was scooped up into familiar arms, and although my shoulder was in agony, I managed to loop my arm around his neck. He wasn't all that gentle, but I didn't mind too much. And when he bounded across the desert to the rear of the Blackbird, I found myself simply relieved.

It was actually over.

"They're gathering more forces!

I stared over the top of Hank's head, rather disconnected from the whole situation, and watched as large pieces of machinery flew through the air to land near the burnt frame of a Humvee. It took me a moment to realize that they were robots; I'd seen a familiar model in the Danger Room during a session not so long ago.

"I - I cannot believe my eyes," Hank gasped, his hold on me loosening. "The Sentinel Program is operational."

I would heartily suggest we make our exit now before things get ugly, darlings. Emma Frost's voice, to my surprise, was a welcome change. Other than Jean and Essex, it had been a terribly long time since I'd felt another's telepathic presence - so even her cold touch was welcome. Mackenzie, Jean - how lovely. Hurry along now, dears. Xavier will hold them off as long as he can.

I watched, eyes wide, as the soldiers seemed to simply stop in place. I felt the familiar electric current in the air and knew that it was Xavier's doing and sent up a silent murmur of thanks. The rain slowed to a drizzle before it faded completely, revealing the fact that the robotic things known as Sentinels were very much still moving toward us.

We boarded the Blackbird hurriedly, Hank leading the pack. I stared at nothing in particular as he carried me to the rear of the jet and tore the shirt from my body, leaving me topless. To my surprise, I didn't feel all that exposed as he hurriedly attended my wound, injecting something warm into my bloodstream.

"It's a clean through-and-through," he murmured for my benefit as he dabbed the wound in my back with damp-feeling cloth. "It will require stitches, but there is minimal blood loss. They both look dehydrated and severely malnourished."

I watched, fascinated, as Scott led Jean to one of the benches in the rear of the jet and carefully strapped her in. He seemed dazed and bewildered and her eyes were practically glowing with emotion as his hands lingered over the straps.

I could feel her emotions through the rapport; her love and devotion toward Scott as well as her disbelief and relief. It amazed me how calm and confident she seemed after all she, after all we'd, been through.

We're safe, she whispered gently through the rapport, willingly sharing some of her warm feelings with me. I can't even begin to thank you. If it weren't for you -

It's nothing, I assured her as I shook my head, causing Hank to stare down at me in confusion. The jet shifted slightly and I grasped the bench I was sitting on rather tightly as we lifted into the air, half afraid that I'd slide around and injure myself further. The pain seemed to increase with every passing moment and I did my best to block it out of my mind. I can't believe we really did it - I can't believe we're actually free of him and that place.

We are though, she assured me, staring past Scott to meet my gaze warmly. We are.

"I'm going to hook the both of you up to an iv so that we can get some fluids into you. There's not much I can do as of this moment to ensure that you're functioning correctly, but I will do what I can." He scurried about and mere minutes later, both Jean and I were hooked up to ivs - fluids and, for me, a morphine drip. "Yes, well, I think that's everything. I'll see to the gunshot wound when we land at the Institute."

Weakly, I lifted a hand and rested it on his arm, causing him to stare down at me in confusion. My body was shutting down on me and I knew it - I also knew that there was no time like the present.

"Hank."

"Pet?" he whispered as he scooted onto the bench next to me, careful not to nudge my shoulder. "What is it?"

Sleepily, I leaned over to the right and rested my head on his shoulder. It was exactly as I'd imagined it and more; it was a perfect fit and seemed so right. "Let's go to Vegas in a few months."

"For what?"

I opened my mouth to reply, but found that no words would come out. A knowing smile curled my lips as I closed my eyes, slipping into the darkness willingly.