Disclaimer: Not mine, just borrowed, belongs to Marvel et al. See first chapter for more advanced disclaimer.

Notes: Right guys, here's where things REALLY get interesting, I hope you like. Please, please, please review, it's a bit disappointing only to get two reviews per chapter (one of them by someone who's already read the entire story already, (not that I'm not greatful Scribs, review as much as you like)) So please, if you like this in any way, and want to know what happens next, just type out a couple of words saying so. I want at least three more reviews before I post the next (and final) chapter.

BTW, rating is the same as last chapter, there's a couple of naughty words here, but that's it.

Part 3

_Or am I a butterfly…_

That night was hot and sticky, even with the ventilation on. Jean rolled on top of the bed covers, unable to sleep. The stifling atmosphere seemed to pen her in, her head ached, she longed for a cold shower, but knew she was not allowed out of her room past midnight.

She heard muffled voices outside, curious, she crept out of bed and put her ear to the door.

It seemed that two nurses were doing the rounds, shuffling past slowly, their voices loud in the echoing corridors.

'It will be alright, Raven, Dr Xavier is the best in his field, but it may just take time.' Jean recognised the smooth, rich tone of Nurse Munroe. 

'That's fine for you to say, 'Ro, but… it just seems that he's so far way from me now.' This was defiantly Nurse Darkholme's voice, though it was indistinct, as if it's owner was holding back strong emotion.

'Shhh, he's in the best place he could possibly be, with the best help he could possibly get. You're doing all you can.'

'Am I? He hit me today, he attacked me, he denied my love! He hates his own mother, 'Ro, he hates ME! Why? What did I do that was so wrong? What have I done so evil that my own baby attacks me? What?'

Here Nurse Darkholme's voice disintegrated into babbles and sobs of grief, Nurse Munroe shushed and comforted her, whispering soft, caring words in her ear that Jean could not make out.

She moved away from the door, and back to her bed, half ashamed at hearing the outburst, and a tinge of doubt nipping at the edges of her troubled mind.

The hot, clammy atmosphere was still there when Jean woke up.

Stumbling out of bed, she caught a glance of herself in the dressing table mirror.

Her hair was dishevelled, her skin seemed paler than usual, dark circles of worry and sleeplessness surrounded her eyes. Last night had been tough, guilt, doubt, and the natural, heavy pressure of the weather had left her an insomniac. Her head throbbed, she yearned for some aspirin.

But her eyes returned to the reflection, was this the same Margaret Richardson that had entered the institute only two days ago?

No, no, she was not, she was Jean Grey, and X-man, and boy, she as going to pound the person responsible. When she found out who that was, that is, and what was going on in the first place.

Half an hour and a shower later she wandered apprehensively to the canteen, unsure of what she would encounter.

What she encountered, indeed, was bacon and eggs. More over, she was gratified to find that almost all the X-men were there, except Kurt.

Never the less, the breakfast was hardly a happy one, each of the four remaining X-men were kept at separate corners of the room, and Jean herself was gently guided by Nurse Munroe to a seat in the centre, with the other residents. Their reception of her was strained. They were friendly, and talkative, and nervous, they obviously knew about the situation, and had been instructed to bring her back into the herd, or something to that degree. Jean wasn't having any of it. She in tern was polite and pleasant, and very stand-offish.

She wished she could talk to one of the others, she wanted to know what was happening, what the next plan was, and where exactly Kurt was. She tried sending them telepathic messages, but they didn't seem to receive them, or didn't let on they had been received. She could still feel their emotions, their fear and anxiety, but couldn't contact their deeper thoughts. Was someone messing about with their powers? Preventing them from functioning fully? Had someone been rearranging reality? Or maybe this was all in her head after all, maybe she really was mad?

No, that's not the right way to think, Jean, that's what they want to happen, whoever THEY are. Keep your hopes up, Jean Grey, remember who you are.

Well, all she could do was wait and see, hope that the others found a way to contact her, to get round the strict observance of the nurses and Logan. She cleaned off her plate and trudged to the girl's toilet, she noticed, with interest, that Scott had left ahead of her.

She was just about to enter the bathroom when a hand grabbed her, she found herself pulled into the boy's toilet, which was just across the hallway from the girl's.

She managed to swallow a scream when she saw that her assailant was Scott.

'Sorry,' he breathed, 'but they're watching us like hawks! It's lucky they didn't see me as it is.'

'Sure,' replied Jean, 'what's up? Where's Kurt?'

Scott looked grim, 'he's in the White Room, it's where Xavier puts residents to 'calm down,' it's basically a padded cell, our behaviour last night didn't go down to well. They know you're one of us.'

'Yeah,' said Jean, 'I'm afraid I told them.'

Scott shrugged, 'it was bound to come out eventually, anyway, we're OK. The only problem is that they're trying to keep us apart, which will make planning our next move difficult.'

'Our next move?' asked Jean sceptically, 'perhaps we should give it a rest for a while, lull them into a false sense of security. As it is… everyone is on their toes, everyone is watching us. I don't know, maybe escape isn't the way.'

Behind his blindfold Jean could see Scott's eyes widen.

'You can's say that,' he gasped, 'we can't just give up! We need to get out of here, Jean, and soon. Look, I'm not sure about what's going on, but I think that they're trying to break us, trying to brainwash us or something. The longer we stay here, the closer they come to their goal.'

'You seem to be holding up pretty well, though.'

'No, not really. I've seen it, Evan, Rouge, Kitty, they're all getting weaker, all thinking that… that the X-men aren't real, that they really are delusions or something. Hell, I've caught myself thinking it on occasion. But it's Kurt I'm most worried about.'

'Why?'

Scott bit his lip, 'you, me, all the others… we've, well, we've all know what it's like to be normal, to be human. So I guess the idea that this all could be, you know, a fantasy isn't that inconceivable. But Kurt… Kurt's always been blue and fuzzy, he's never been normal, never been human. This idea, that his entire life has been a lie, it's… well to be frank it's breaking him. You can see it, he's so serious all the time, so quiet, he never used to be like that before, remember?'

Yeah, she did, Kurt Wagner, the joker of the X-men, the Fuzzy Dude, the party guy, and she had seen it in is eyes before, now she thought of it, the sadness, the uncertainty, the fear. God, what was it like, to question every facet of your identity? To have your entire existence turned upside down and inside out?

'Listen,' continued Scott, 'we're going to meet up in the library at lunch time, we can get there using the air ducts. Kurt should be out by then, too. I'll see you there, OK?'

Jean nodded, and Scott stepped out of the bathroom. He looked both ways, checking no one was watching, then beckoned Jean to exit too. With a whispered good-bye, he ran off, leaving Jean on her own, uncertain of what to do next.

She wandered the twisting corridors aimlessly, exploring the endless confines of the mansion. She had received no news, no instructions, but she knew that things were bound to get hot soon. Xavier wasn't going to sit on his butt doing nothing about her condition, in fact she had a suspicion of what his next actions would be, but she didn't want to contemplate them too much. So instead she tried to keep her mind and body active through exploration.

It was doing little good, this place was a maze! Her thoughts twisted and tuned along with the passages, it all seemed to strange! She felt so helpless, so unsure! It was odd, as a telepath she had always had a level of surety, a level of security of emotion. Now it seemed gone, stripped from her, and replaced by doubt and fear. Heck, for all she knew she might be crazy! Xavier might be right and she was Margaret Richardson, a young woman with a few problems made worse by other mixed up teenagers. After all, the entire idea, telepathy, telekinesis, mutant powers, it was all absurd, wasn't it?

No, no she mustn't think like that, that was what THEY (whoever they were) wanted her to think. She, and the others, were being played, being fooled. She wasn't sure quite how, but if she was to retain her sanity she had to believe that she was Jean Grey, she had to. Didn't she?

'It's not fair!'

A small, childish voice spoke up. Jean, who had been too wound up in her own thoughts to pay adequate attention to her surroundings, looked up in astonishment.

Before her, standing in the middle of the corridor, was a girl, the girl she had glanced before.

She could be no more than nine or ten, her dress was white, pure, unadulterated white, so white it seemed to glow. Her skin was quite pale, and around her head was a bob of soft, black hair, which curled around her jet black eyes. A look of petulance was painted on her pretty features.

'It's not fair!' she said again, her ebony eyes boring into Jean, 'you never play with me any more! You always used to, but now you never do! You're not my friend any more! Why don't you play?'

Jean opened her mouth to give a response, but a voice behind her spoke up.

'Margaret, there you are! Dr Xavier wishes to speak with you in his office.'

Jean turned to see the graceful form of Storm, still in nurse's outfit.

'Uh, sure, I was just talking to this-'

She turned back, but found the little girl gone, disappeared without a trace, how had that happened? She surely would have heard her running off, and she'd barely turned away for more than a second.

'Talking to who?' asked Nurse Munroe.

'Um… no one, I… I thought… it doesn't matter. So, I guess I should go to see the Prof- I mean Dr Xavier. Um… which way is it to his office, I'm a little lost.'

Storm smiled benignly, and led Jean back through the corridors until they reached the oak door of the office. Jean took a deep breath, steadying herself for what she knew as to come, and opened the door.

Her parents and boyfriend where there, waiting for her.

Her mother rushed forward, embracing her in a tearful hug. It was odd, she recognised this woman as her mother, she had the same form, voice, even mannerisms that Jean remembered. But were those memories from Jean or Margaret? Where they genuine or pre-programmed? Or were they both? Did Margaret's mother take the same form as Jean's? Surly a child should remember their own mother, the person who carried them in their womb. The first person they heard, touched, knew…

Damn, it was all so confusing!

For a second Jean was stiff, unyielding to the caress, but she soon melted in it's familiar warmth, and returned it, feeling the familiar love and comfort surround her.

Her father put a heavy arm on her shoulder, unable, constrained by the expectations of society to show his love in the same, expressive way as her mother, but she could see it none the less, see it shining out of his soft eyes.

And behind them the third person, her beloved watched on. At once worried, unsure, overjoyed and terrified, he stood there. He wanted to hold her too, she knew, but he was willing to let her parents go first, Duncan had always been kind in that way. He had always been kind, in fact, always standing by her, even in the deepest, darkest times of her life.

Or was this Margaret's memory? Was this Duncan different to the one Jean knew? So confusing. So confusing.

Her mother pushed her away a little, but gripped her head, forcing Jean to look into her eyes. Tears ran down her mothers cheeks, an almost desperate smile shone on her face.

'I don't know what you're talking about Doctor,' she choked, 'she's fine. She's our Margaret, right? You're still our Margaret.'

She wanted to cry yes, to lie forever in her mothers arms, to be safe and sure again. She wanted to cry no, to deny the lie, to stand up for what she knew was right, or thought was right. Could she? Could she bring such agony to her mother's face? Could she bite the hand that loved her? Pain tore her apart, split her further in two.

'I... yes… no… I don't know! Please, please just go!'

She pulled herself away, tears streaming from her eyes, sobs wracking her body. She turned away from her parents, desperate to shield her self from the tortured expressions, trying to deny their love, trying to deny the pain.

'I think we should go,' murmured Xavier, 'we'll talk outside.'

'Please,' said Duncan, his deep baritone thundering in Jean/Margaret's senses, 'please, let me talk to her, just for a little. Perhaps if I could speak to her alone… she shouldn't be left by herself at a time like this.'

Xavier must have silently acceded, for she heard the adults leaving the room, and the door closing behind them. She was alone with Duncan.

He said nothing, he did nothing, he just sat by her, letting her paroxysms of grief work themselves out of her system.

He slowly, tentatively, put a hand on her shoulder. The stillness was unbearable.

'I'm sorry,' she said at last, 'I… I want to tell you… but I… I just don't know anymore.'

'Shhhh, shhh, it's OK, I'm here,' his voice was soft and smooth, full of love and understanding.

'It's just… everyone keeps telling me who I am, and I feel like I'm Jean Grey, it all made sense when Scott told me. And now I… I don't know who I am… I feel like I'm two people, or one person. It's… it's just so confusing. And I don't want to hurt anyone, I don't want you to hate me, but I've got to be true to who I am… whoever that is…'

Duncan was crying now, not harsh, racking sobs, but quiet tears that ran down his broad face. He moved in front of her, and tenderly lifted her chin so she could see him, so she could look into those two, bright blue eyes.

'Listen to me,' he whispered, 'I don't know what's happening, I can't give you any real answers, none you would believe anyway. But I can promise you this, I love you. I love you as Margaret, I would love you as Jean. I'll always be here for you, no matter which side you choose. But… but if you chose Jean then… then you won't come out of here for a while, and I…  I don't want that to happen, love. I want to be yours, I want to give you children and a home, and all the care I can… but… but  I can't do that for you in here. You need to know that.'

Tears once again had begun to chase their way down Margaret/Jean's face, and she fell into Duncan's arms, gaining what solace she could from his unconditional love.

He soothed her for a few minutes, allowing the sobs to subside once again. When she emerged from his embrace she kissed him, softly, almost chastely.

'Duncan,' she whispered, 'tell my parents I'm feeling better now, I want to see them.'

Her fist pounded the wall. It wasn't fair!

She had talked to the parents, talked to Xavier, told them who she was. She was Margaret Richardson, and she wanted to go home. Her parents had been overjoyed, but the good Doctor had been less receptive.

'I know you say you're now Margaret Richardson,' he had said, 'but this condition… it is very hard to overcome, you must stay here, to work out your original problems if nothing else. And we must make sure that the… symbiotic, invented persona has truly gone.'

So he had told her parents that she would be home, soon hopefully, but not yet. And they had left with Duncan, a final kiss and hug were all she had to remember them, before she was once again alone with the Doctor.

Anger bubbled within her, as she strode down the corridor, the words of the meeting still echoing in her head.

'Then what must I do to leave here! I'm Margaret Richardson I… I was confused, I admit that, I-'

'My dear, this may just be a phase, I need to check the persona is gone for good. Besides, you are the first and only pupil of mine to have overcome this disorder, I wish to discover what set this off. More over, I would like to discover more of this fantasy world your little group has created.'

'So… how long will I be in here for?'

'That depends. If you cooperate and show no signs of remission, then only a few weeks. If, on the other hand, you do not, then you could be in here for a lot, lot longer. The first steps are simple. I want you to talk about the fantasy world Thomas created, tell me about the X-men, about their home, their world. The others tend to keep things pent up, to keep their fantasy world a secret, which prevents me from disapproving, and thus treating their fantasy ailment. Are you willing to talk about it?'

She had been silent, part of her had been only too happy to comply, but part of her hadn't. How could she jeopardize the others? How could she give away all the secrets of the X-men?

So she had said nothing, she had remained silent.

'I see,' said Xavier at last, 'you don't want to talk yet, very well. But talking is the only way out, Margaret, the longer you are silent, the longer you will have to stay here. My door is always open, as is my ear. Return when you are ready to answer some questions.'

And that had been the end of it, she had walked out of the office and strode down the corridor, rage burning in her blood.

What had possessed her! Why hadn't she just come out with it all? Was she so sucked into this stupid, stupid fantasy? Was she so mental that there really was a part of her that believed she was Jean Grey?

She was nearly out, nearly free, but she had ruined it!

No, no that wasn't right. THEY had ruined it, THEY had been the cause of all this misery, all this pain.

Following the twist and turns of the corridors she eventually came to her destination, the Library.

It was noon, all the 'X-men' were gathered together, even Kurt was there, with Kitty's arm comfortingly placed on his shoulder.

'Hi Jean,' called Rouge as she entered, and Scott turned his blind-folded eyes in her direction.

'Glad you're here, Jean, we were worried about you. I-'

He got no further, for Margaret stalked forward and slapped him, hard.

'You bastard!' she screamed, 'you ruined my life! You ruined their lives! You made up this own sick little fantasy world to stop you being so lonely, and then you got us to populate if for your own amusement. You didn't care how much you ruined our lives, you don't care about us at all! You sad, lonely bastard! I hope you rot in hell! I don't care about all this… these… lies you've created, I don't give a crap about the X-men or these mutants or anything because it doesn't exist! I want to be normal, Thomas, normal, not some mixed up freak like you.'

Thomas said nothing, he could say nothing, his jaw almost touched the ground, and it was a similar story for the other mixed up kids in the room.

Margaret could not help but think how ridiculous he looked with that blindfold on, she brought her hand up again, and Thomas flinched, expecting another blow. Instead she tore the cloth from his face, flinging it across the room, and stared straight into his eyes.

'See,' she growled, 'there isn't a need for any of these stupid lies, take that fluffy blindfold off and the world's a lot better place.'

She swung round now, facing Suzy, she leapt forward and, before the Goth could react, placed both hands on the sides of her head, making skin to skin contact.

'Why are you so afraid of other people that you do this to yourselves! Why to you pretend your more freakish than you are? See, where's the absorbing Suzy? Where's the power? It's just touching, that's all. Why deny yourself something like that?'

'Je-Jean…' the stammering voice came from Benjamin, 'I know… I know you're going thorough a crisis but if we just talk about it, I'm sure we can work though it. I know you're scared, I am too but-'

His soft voice was silenced when Margaret put a finger to his lips, 'Benjamin,' she said softly, 'Benjamin, why do you do this to yourself? You're a sweet, tender kid, you could have everything. Why do you pretend you're a freak when your not? I used to feel pity for you, Benjamin, that's what got me into this mess to start with. Now? Now I only feel disgust, that someone could put themselves though such hell, could put their family through hell, just for a bit of attention.'

She took hold of one of his hands, 'you're human, you have five fingers,' she gripped the hand and splayed the fingers apart, out of their customary Vulcan salute position, 'deal with it.'

She released him, and stood back to survey her handy work. Thomas crawled across the floor, eyes closed, trying to find his blindfold. Suzy had her head in her hands, rocking back and forth. Benjamin stood, gaping, gazing at his spread fingers. Then he laughed.

'Hahahahaha, stupid freak isn't a freak! Freakish for thinking so. All these fingers… all these stupid fingers, too many to deal with? What's three minus five? Why aren't I blue? I'm so cold without fur! What's a freak who isn't a freak thinking he's a freak? What am I? Vas? Vas? Vas!!!'

He fell into hysterics, laughing, screaming and crying intermittently, his body shaking, and his eyes wild. Thomas began trying to get him to calm down, whilst still trying to find his stupid blindfold. Suzy was deep in shock, and Jenny and Adam just stared on, not knowing what to do.

Margaret turned her back on them, striding down the hallways. She soon passed Logan, undoubtedly searching for the source of the screaming, which was still echoing down the corridors.

'They're in the library,' said Margaret as she passed, 'if I were you I'd block up the ventilation system, that's how they've been getting around.'

With not a word more, she strode past, leaving Logan to sort things out. She felt suddenly… powerful, whole, complete. Her entire body was relaxed, this was what she was supposed to be doing, this was who she was. For the first time in many days, she felt at peace.

She soon reached the solid oak door of Dr Xavier's office, which looked more friendly than it ever had before.

She opened it 'Dr Xavier,' she said, 'I'm ready to talk now.'