AUTHOR'S NOTE: Okay, for some reason, the past couple of chapters, this one and the next ones were impossibly hard to write. In all honesty, I failed miserably, and right now, am just not a happy camper. I think I need to plan these things out more. Oh well.
Beware, Mags is introduced, and his friendship with Charles should be explored further in the next chapter. He's actually one of my favorite characters, but in Evo, they made him way too weak (Scott too). On another point, I have no intention of introducing him to Scott and Jean, because their first meeting was in Cauldron, if we follow Evo-verse.
Oh yeah, one more thing (I promise). Ororo's 18! That's right. So in this timeline, right now, she would be Scott/Jean's age in Evolution. Logan is like an immortal, so don't ask.
Summary: Scott and Jean take a look at their past as the two find solace in the beauty of a winter wonderland.
Pairing (s): Scott/Jean
Rating for this Chapter: PG-13
Chapter 11
"So," John Grey started, breaking the comfortable silence that had settled in during the ride home. Everyone, minus Jean, had driven out to see the grandparents for the Saturday, enjoying the evening together, having dinner, playing board games, watching football - family stuff. The night was relatively uneventful, save for when somebody asked where Jean was. John had to quickly come up with a cover story (something about 'further education' at a school for gifted children) that left eyebrows arched in suspicion, but thankfully, nothing more was said about it.
"Yes?"
"About Jean." Pause. "Maybe we should-"
"No."
"Honey-" he started, but was cut off again.
"John, no! I refuse to enlist my youngest daughter into that school of freaks! There must be some other way."
Her husband sighed dejectedly. He loved Elaine dearly, but sometimes, there was simply no way to get through to her. Kinda like Jean... "Honey, it's for the best. Charles can give Jean an opportunity that we cannot - a chance at a normal life."
Elaine was about to disagree, but stopped herself, taking some time to reflect upon his words. They've been discussing the issue for the past week, and kicking the idea around for several years. Deep down, she knew he was right, but the irony was almost painful. Seeing her mother deep in thought, Sarah spoke up. "Yeah, like, I agree with dad here, mom. Ever since..." She cringed slightly at her mother's shocked face. "Ever since she visited that place, there hadn't been a single incident with her mutation. No more accidents and major headaches. And she seems happier, for some reason." Sarah left out the fact that her younger sister talked about this boy she met (Scott – she heard it so many times that by now it had been drilled into her brain) a lot more than necessary, but refrained from telling her parents. They might explode.
His confidence swelled when Elaine didn't respond. Deciding to push his luck, he continued. "There is no other way. Charles and Jean share very similar mutations, and already she has exercised greater control and confidence in everything over the past week. She'll be better off, honey, at the Institute."
His wife looked away sadly. "I never wanted this. I don't think she wanted any of this either. Ever since...ever since she manifested, she has been so unhappy...it tears me apart sometimes."
"It tears me apart too," John replied comfortingly. "But ever since the Institute, she's been acting different. She may not be as happy as before, but she's no longer afraid either. I think it's time for us to stop wishing for something that can never happen and just accept Jeannie for what she really is: a growing girl with extra abilities that nobody else has."
Elaine didn't reply immediately; she knew what he said was true, but it still took time to digest. "Will she be safe there? I mean, the man with the claws, and then that boy..."
John nearly laughed. "Don't worry about it. From what Charles told me, I think our baby girl can more than take care of herself. If anything, I'm more worried about...what was his name? Scott? Anyway, remember all the trouble that Annie and Jean got into when they were little?" At the memory, he chuckled fondly.
His wife joined in too, while Sarah scowled. "Like the time when they put on Sarah's make-up? I've never seen her so angry in her life."
"That makeup cost me three month's worth of allowance, Mom." Her mother just laughed harder.
"Or when they got into our closet?" John countered, sending Sarah into a fit of giggles while Elaine frowned. "I've never seen you so angry in my life. At least now I know where Jeannie got her temper from."
His wife huffed mock angrily. "That was my wedding dress they ruined. And you could've been more supportive," she scolded him lightly.
"He ran off to get the camera, remember?" Sarah smirked. It was quite a sight; between her make-up and her mother's clothes, Jean and Annie looked quite ridiculous.
An easy silence settled into the car, until the implications of the situation finally took their affect. "John, what if Jean fell in love with another mutant? Like that boy, Scott, for instance? What if they got married, and had mutant children? What if they-"
"Elaine, you're going to drive yourself crazy," he cut in politely. "Besides, that's something Jean has got to figure out on her own - we have no control over who she falls in love with." His hand casually searched out hers as he continued to drive through a sudden, and unexpected, thunderstorm. "Besides, you don't know that could happen. The Professor's intending to enrol all his students into the local high school, remember? So Jeannie could very well be spending most of her time with other, non-mutant teenagers. In any case, she doesn't seem to be making a lot of friends here, so it may be better for her to start all over."
"I still don't like the fact that she'll be spending so much of her time with that boy. He could be dangerous."
"Relax Elaine. I'm sure our Jeannie is absolutely safe."
***
zzzz-krack! A lamppost burst into a shower of sparks as its tungsten filaments were upset by an overdose of electrical energy. Nearby, the source of the disturbance floated by as a silver orb landed a few yards off the road in a patch of wet grass. Thunder tore through the sky as its metallic surface mechanically came apart, heralding the appearance of the Master of Magnetism as he stepped out of his ride darkly.
All things metal around him started to rattle with unnatural ferocity as he charged up his awesome powers. He was Eric Lensherr, the most powerful being on the planet, gifted with the complete mastery of the electromagnetic spectrum. His very presence struck fear into the hearts of his fiercest opponents. They were fools - Mystique and Destiny. To even think that he doesn't know of this girl, Jean Grey. Unknown to them, he and Charles still shared some information of their students, even though the two friends have diverged on separate paths many years ago. Neither saw any harm in advancing the future of mutants; it was just the manner in which this would be accomplished that caused them to separate. Thus, Magneto knew all about Jean Grey and Scott Summers; just as Charles knew about John Allerdyce, Pietro and Wanda.
He knew that Cerebro classified Jean Grey as an Alpha mutant in the same class as himself - which is exactly why he needed to speak with him, and meet this girl - without interruptions. Cloaked in darkness, his eyes flashed amber brightly as a silver Mercedes sped by. Seizing the vehicle in an inescapable magnetic grip, he casually destroyed the metallic rims of its two front tires and smashed it into a tree, callously ignoring the spark of human emotion and guilt that flashed at the sight of the wreckage before him.
This had to be done. There was going to be a war, and, in a war, collateral damage was inevitable. It was time for Homo Superior to rightly take their place above human beings.
****************************************
At eighteen years old, Ororo Monroe was the youngest member of the teaching staff at the Xavier Institute for Gifted Youngsters, and Professor Xavier's first student. As a child, her parents were tragically killed during a family vacation to the Middle East, leaving her to fend for herself. Until the manifestation of her powers, the weather-witch survived as an expert thief, mastering the virtues of stealth and speed in order to survive the harsh brutality of life on the streets.
Thus, she had always been the one who was able to reach Scott the most, because the two could relate. The woman wasn't exactly sure on what the boy had to do in order to survive, but she knew it had something to do with his powers. Fortunately, when her powers manifested, she was believed to be a goddess by an African tribe, who hailed her as an Elemental Spirit. When Scott's powers manifested, he was brutally beaten and subdued, and was used to break into banks and buildings to further the cause of the gangs his foster father ran.
Optic blasts. In many aspects, it could've been a gift. In Scott's case, it was more like a curse. The sheer destructive nature of his powers combined with their absolute uncontrollability made him dangerous, both to his enemies and to his friends. Ororo frowned as she continued to read over the latest test results, running over a few graphs and figures. In the background, a television was on, its screen replaying footage of blast walls and metal barricades succumbing easily under an assault of a crimson storm.
"Charles, this...this isn't good. All these numbers, these charts and lines, I've never seen anything like it." Her voice carried a hint of despair as she threw the stack of papers frustratingly on top of his desk. Even though much of it was printed in numbers, the message was clear – unless something could be done to tame his powers, there was no way Scott could be an X-man.
"Agreed," the Professor responded, equally distressed. "Scott begins to lose his control at forty-five percent output, and by the time he reaches 60% - called the 'Red Zone,' enough to kill - he has absolutely no aim at all." The man didn't mention the fact that in the Red Zone, Scott's eyes are already discharging a force equal to the detonation of four tons of TNT. It was estimated that at full power, his output would be over two times greater, possibly even three.
Ororo digested this information silently for a few minutes. "Charles, I will be honest with you. I...I'm scared to go into battle with him. Not just for my safety, but for everyone else's as well. Once he takes off those glasses, not even Logan..." she trailed off fearfully. The silence spoke for her.
The woman looked up to see her former mentor smiling at her. "Ororo, how's your Greek mythology?" he asked.
"Rusty. Why?"
"Are you familiar with the legend of the Cyclops?" Ororo shook her head, vaguely summarizing what she knew about them through the tale of Odysseus – how one of them, Polyphemus was struck blind.
"Very good, but there's more to the Cyclops' than Polyphemus and his taste for human flesh. The Cyclops' were a people, who've suffered much hardship throughout their time. At first, they were thrown into Tartarus, a place deeper and darker than Hades' kingdom of the Underworld – as you know, the ultimate of prisons." Ororo nodded her head faintly, prompting the Professor to continue. "When Zeus, the king of Gods, released them from Tartarus, setting them free, do you know what they gave him as a sign of gratitude?"
She shook her head no.
"They gave Zeus, Ororo, his ultimate weapon. The lightning bolt - the sign of his power and authority, an instrument that struck down not only his father and his allies in the War of the Titans, but also his foes in the second War of the Gods." There was a long pause.
"Ororo, Scott will give us the power to overcome Magneto, if necessary. In fact, from what we know, it's almost certain that it will be necessary. In any case, I'm sure Dr. Taylor Prescott will be able to think of something. He came through for Scott once before." Xavier paused. His features suddenly turned deadly serious. "We must not utter a single word of this conversation to Scott, or anyone else if it can be avoided. These test results will only serve to discourage the boy further, and although Scott is unlikely to do anything rash in the event he obtains this information, I feel that it might be better if we withhold this data until we've reached a definite conclusion."
Ororo, despite the dark mood, chuckled. "Well, at worst, we can always rely on Jean to pull Scott out of his miseries."
At this, Charles raised his eyebrows slightly. "Oh? What happened today?"
"Nothing really, but...let's just say that those two got a bit comfortable with each other on the way home." She sighed, enjoying the budding romance growing between the two. An easy silence settled over the room, until they were forced to return to business once again. "How's Jean's progress? Any improvement?"
The Professor suppressed the urge to sigh disconsolately. As the only psychic on the teaching staff, the education and training of Jean Grey's powers fell under his responsibility. Over the past couple of weeks, the young girl had showed some progress, but nothing to gloat about. If anything, it only proved to him what he had been told and always suspected - Jean Grey will one day become the most powerful mutant on the planet. If her powers were fully unlocked, she had the potential to make even Scott's eyeblasts seem like a mere cherry bomb in comparison.
"Fine," he lied. The telepath didn't want to distress his colleague anymore than she already was, and, besides, there was nothing Storm, a non-telepath, could do in any case.
She just nodded understandingly. Unfortunately, it didn't occur to anyone that exposing Jean to the unshielded thoughts and feelings of a myriad of people in a public place, such as the resort, could do to the young telepath as they lounged around the fireplace. A sickening crack of thunder seemed to echo an impending calamity that was simply waiting to happen as the two adults sat alone in silence, absently staring into the flickering tongues of fire as they danced about.
Then the phone rang.
***
Jean stumbled into the bathroom, collapsing before the toilet and immediately emptying her bowels into it. Her psychic migraines had never been this severe, or lasted this long, since she came out of her coma - this one started on the flight home. Her parents had just called and said they were going to leave her here. It hardly came as a surprise that her parents had left her again. Alone and abandoned, again. Images of Annie, the hospital, the asylum - it all came flooding back. She hung up on them before they could say anything more; honestly, she didn't want to hear how they still loved her, or how she was their daughter, or any other crap anymore.
Teetering on the brink of unconsciousness, her vision blurred as her gut wrenched convulsively. Sitting there half-conscious and throwing up occasionally, she cried her heart out, until there were no more tears left. Why don't they love me anymore? Am I really that bad?
"Jean, are you okay?" Scott's voice asked sometime later, muted by the locked bathroom door. The telepath didn't answer. She must've been in here for hours, and didn't want Scott to see her like this. Suddenly, all coherent thought slipped away as Jean doubled over once again, practically retching the life out of her weak body. Things started to slip in and out of focus, and faint...she started to feel faint...
"Jean?"
With a reluctant sigh, Scott shifted his glasses slightly, a thin beam of crimson blasting apart the doorknob easily before he stepped inside. The sight before him caused the boy to gasp in shock. "Jean!"
Back in the days of the orphanage, migraines were a fact of life, something he grew up with. Ever since his eyeblasts were activated during the accident, his body would react violently to a lack of ambient energy, usually sunlight, to fuel his powers. Being 'low on batteries,' as Scott described it, was an experience he didn't intend to repeat. However, from what the Professor had told him, psychic migraines were far worse - as Jean was proving to him at her own expense. Scott slowly approached her as she struggled weakly to hold back her long, scarlet hair. Kneeling down beside her, he gently collected her hair into a neat bun, holding it in place as her body entered another fit of spasms. She needed help.
"Scott?" Jean called out weakly, her telepathy slicing through his weak shields. The redhead collapsed backwards into him, sighing contentedly as she felt his arms wrapping automatically around her. "Please...don't? I..."
"Jean, you need-"
"Nothing," she spat, her patience wearing thin. "Just hold me, okay? I just need...this, right now."
Scott simply nodded, pulling her against him in a loose, but firm, embrace. Slowly, her body relaxed and her breathing evened out, to the point that the redhead could hardly feel the nauseous pressure built up in her stomach any longer. The blessed silence remained unbroken as Scott played back the events of everything that happened in the past few hours. He figured this must've something to do with her parents.
"You're upset, over your parents, aren't you?"
Slowly, Jean's eyes fluttered open as she stared at him curiously. Scott continued. "I'm going to take a shot in the dark here, but I think you think they abandoned you?" Despite what he said, Scott knew he was spot on – the understanding the two built between each other worked both ways, not just one.
Jean looked away, tears spilling down her face. "They did," she squeaked, choking back a sob. "I called - no one answered. They don't love me anymore. God, why don't they love me anymore? I always do what they say, and try my very best, and-"
"Jean," Scott hushed, his voice throaty with concern as he brushed a finger over her lips. "They can't pick you up tomorrow, because there's no car. From what I've been told, they were in a car accident."
"What? Are they okay?"
"The Professor has been pretty vague, but it seems that they suffered only minor injuries. A few cuts and bruises, otherwise they're fine." He took a deep breath, exhaling equally slowly. "So...how are you feeling? You look like somebody you knew just died."
To his horror, Jean started to cry again. "I-I'm sorry, I'm-such a-a dumb ass. I must look l-like a co-complete idiot, and I'll u-understand completely if you d-don't want to be m-my-friend a-anymore a-and-"
"Whoa, relax Jean," Scott leaned over and tucked a damp lock of scarlet behind her ear, cupping her face fondly. Coaxing her tears away with a soft touch, he was a bit surprised when she closed her eyes and leaned into his hands, almost purring, shockingly, in...relief? Contentment? It was hard to tell.
"I'm sorry," she whispered sadly.
"What in the hell for?"
"For being such a burden, and a crybaby."
Scott groaned lightly and hugged her, remembering what she said on the flight home. "Hey, you're just learning to use your powers. And you have two - I only have one. It's easier for me."
"Scott-"
"Let's get you cleaned up, and in bed, and we could talk later, okay?"
She moaned in protest when he got up and turned on the tap, leaving her sitting on the cold tiled-floor of the bathroom by herself. No, not alone again. Please, Slim, don't leave me alone again.
"Whoa, chill out. I'm right here." Scott helped her to her feet before handing her a cup of water. "Here, take a sip of this. Then spit it out." He gracefully lifted her up above the sink as Jean spat out the water.
"I feel like shit," she muttered sleepily, swaying into his shoulder. Her hand found its way autonomously to her head. "It...huge...hurts..." Jean felt Scott's fingers brush over her lips as he hushed her softly.
"I bet you do," Scott whispered, cleaning her face off with a damp cloth. "Glad I'm not a telepath." Wrapping a large, fluffy towel around her shoulders, he swiftly scooped her up in his arms and carried his friend to her bedroom.
"Jean...sorry to say this...but you need to lose some weight."
She snuggled her head into his neck, the slight stutter in his steps the only thing keeping her from falling asleep in his arms. Thus, Jean didn't see him blush. "Scott Summers, I do not need to lose weight. Just because you're 5' 7, and 100 lb of skin and bones...are you saying I'm fat?"
No, I think you are beautiful, Scott wanted to say (safe behind mental shields), but bit his lip. In his opinion, he was way too young to be thinking mushy thoughts like that. Instead, Scott replied, "No, I said you needed to lose weight...and I'm 140," he added, groaning as he twisted his upper body to walk sideways through the doorway of her bedroom.
"Whatever," Jean mumbled as he tucked her into gently to bed. He stayed by her bedside for a while, before deciding to retreat to his room. She was almost asleep when a crack of lightning jolted her awake. The redhead opened her eyes just in time to see Scott walking away before stopping him mid-stride with a stronger than usual, and certainly unnecessary, telekinetic grip. Scott turned around in surprise.
"Jean?"
"Stay Scott," she pleaded, clutching her blanket fearfully. The redhead didn't like thunderstorms - and clowns. Jean hated clowns.
"I'm sorry, but I can't. It's against the rules." He turned around to walk away, but jumped visibly when another roar of thunder tore through the skies. Suddenly, he heard laughter. Scott turned back to Jean to see her absolutely beside herself, laughing so hard that he was sure that her face would cramp up tomorrow morning.
"What's so funny?" he demanded.
"You," she choked out, trying hard to suppress another fit of giggles. "You're afraid of lightning," her voice sung out, each word a note dragged out in a surprisingly annoying tone that was meant to tease the boy she saw as her best friend.
"No I'm not," Scott scoffed haughtily, dismissing the idea as absolutely ridiculous. As if on cue, another crack of thunder called his bluff, sending Jean into another bout of laughter.
"Yes you are. Fearless Summers is afraid of a little lightning," Jean teased.
"It's the thunder, not the lightning," Scott sighed defeatedly. Damn, he should've been use to those overcharged bolts of electricity by now, especially since they were Storm's main offensive weapon. But everytime...everytime he heard its resounding roar in the sky, an image of a burning plane with two people clinging to each other's arms in its stricken frame flashed before his eyes, reminding him of things that could've been, would've been, should've been - it went on. Logan had told him once that he needed to quit looking behind him, and start looking forward; otherwise, his life might just flash by and he'll miss it. Looking at his friend, Scott realized that there were some things that were beyond his control, and that maybe this was the way it was meant to be.
Jean smiled, nudging a bit over the bed to make more room. "Come here," she commanded gently, coaxing Scott towards her with her hand. Swallowing a lump in his throat, Scott complied, making his way slowly across the room. When he stepped close enough, the redhead gently grabbed his wrist and dragged him onto the mattress, resting her head companionably on his shoulder as exhaustion gradually overtook her.
"I'll just warn you now, Jean, if you pull any of your fancy moves on me and try to take advantage of my innocence, I'll scream," Scott warned, pulling the blanket over her shoulders as he made himself comfortable beside her.
Jean laughed, glad that he was developing a sense of humour, however dry it might be. "Goodnight, Slim," she whispered, so softly that Scott could barely hear her. All her doubts, insecurities and fears melted away as he pulled her closer in a tight embrace.
"'Night Jean," Scott murmured beside her ear, threading his fingers through her soft hair. With a contented sigh, Jean eagerly drifted into her dreams, satisfied that she would not be left alone tonight.