Title: Trial By Fire
Author: furygrrl
Archive: Just ask first
Rating: PG - R
Disclaimer: Not mine
Chapter Six
Drifting through the dark, she was at peace.
Lingering in the perfect nothingness of the void, there was no sound, no sight...nothing that could touch her. She simply existed – a part of the surrounding oblivion, and yet, apart from it as well.
Had she lips in this place, she might have smiled at the contradiction.
She continued to float...patient, unconcerned, content...
'...All...that...is...I am...'
A dry rasping whispered past her insubstantial form, disturbing the emptiness, echoing faintly as if coming from a great distance.
She tried to pull back when the anomaly caused the darkness to ripple alarmingly, tried to pull away from that disembodied voice that seemingly had no true source, but she had no control over the void – or the consciousness she projected while within it.
Had she ears in this place, she might have covered them in aversion.
'...I was...born...with the first fire...'
The voice rose in volume, the whisper becoming a muted moan that she could sense all around her, eddying like the swirls of a lazy current. That she could feel anything defied possibility, but the warm touch was there nonetheless, brushing across phantom limbs and skin that existed in another place and time.
Another sound - a deep, rhythmic throbbing - stirred to wakefulness at the voice's emergence. Quiet yet, it caused the boundaries of the nothingness to quiver in response.
'...Nothing lives...that is not touched...by a part of me...'
The echoing words reverberated with increasing strength, working jointly with the steady pulse to shake the darkness, enough so that a piece of black tapestry fell away. A distant shimmer, a pinprick of light, rose up to claim the newly created cavity.
Had she eyes in this place, she might have looked away from the aberration in horror.
As it was, she was trapped, unable to extricate her mind from the emptiness that was rapidly filling, forced to watch, to listen, and to feel what was to come.
The fluttering warmth, once so serene, so gentle, was even now chasing away what was left of the void's soothing numbness, intensifying much the same way the voice was, the droning pulse was, the flaring starburst within the dark was.
'...the stars...the stars...'
The words began to whirl around her with the force a dervish, no longer hushed, no longer calm; the once mournful moan becoming the broken cries of something truly struck with grief.
The pulsating thrum rumbled in accompaniment, like the heartbeat of a god, riding the black walls of the boundary until they started to crack beneath the thunderous strain. Pieces of darkness started to fall, crystal-like shards of rain, infusing the emptiness with dissonant music.
Had she lungs in this place, she would have cried out - to return to the silence - to be released - for it all to end. But she had no corporeal form, no lungs, no breath, no mouth, no voice...
There was only one voice.
And it was screaming.
'THE STARS – ARE – MY – CHILDREN!'
The pulse rolled in deafening response, and colour began streaming through the jagged holes left its devastating wake – an infinite number of flaming tendrils, licking through the battered black curtain, lighting the lightlessness, blinding eyes that she did not have.
It was as if the heart of the sun itself had suddenly erupted around her, and now, instead of the dark, the numbness, the emptiness, there was only brightness and heat and the sonorous throbbing of its core, roiling around her overwhelmingly.
Her phantom form convulsed, wild at the immersion, struggling against its pull.
And pull it did.
She realized that she was no longer floating like chaff upon the wind, but was spiraling down...down...down... Towards a speck of light that was fast becoming ever larger with every passing second, it's brilliance spreading outward, stretching like the vines of a creeper, appearing as a sea of pure white flame, churning maddeningly where only the center of the abyss had been before.
The pull was stronger, she could feel her speed increase, could feel the heat growing, could see the flames getting closer...
She was falling into the sun.
She screamed – or believed that she did – the sound lost amid the pounding cacophony that continued to resound.
The fire stirred at her wordless cry, swirling crazily until it had taken form.
A bird's head, with eyes like twin starlit skies, strained forth, its great maw opening to let out a piercing shriek.
Terror, instant and unreasonable, ripped into her at the sight of the creature, and she desperately tried to slow her descent to no avail.
"WHAT ARE YOU?" she screamed uselessly, begging the same question she'd asked a hundred or more times over.
The same reply that had met each of her queries roared out from that enormous head of fire, burning into her brain, searing it to ashes.
'THE SUM AND SUBSTANCE OF LIFE...'
She fell...
'ALL THAT IS, IS KNOWN TO ME...'
She fell...
'I AM OF CREATION, THE MOTHER OF STARS...'
She fell...
'I MAY BE SALVATION...OR DAMNATION...OR BOTH...'
She fell into that mouth of flame, and was consumed.
'I AM FIRE - THE SOUL - THE SPIRIT - LIFE INCARNATE - NOW AND FOREVER...'
The void shattered completely, and she became one with the holocaust, but not before the voice echoed within her subconscious one final time.
The voice that had been hers all along.
'I AM PHOENIX!'
A heartbeat, steady, soft, soothingly natural, was what welcomed her back to awareness.
Jean opened her eyes hesitantly, and the blackness of true night rather than the astral plane, greeted her – that, and the darkness of the shirt-covered chest she was leaning against.
Logan... was her instant, groggy thought, prompting her to relax more fully into the rigid arms that encircled her shoulders. Her hand came up to take a handful of fabric, clinging tightly to the muscled form she'd been propped next to, a sigh of relief slipping from between her lips automatically.
The body she burrowed into stilled at her movement, the arms around her going rigid with an uneasy tenseness that served to wake her fully.
Her fingers twitched.
The shirt she clung to wasn't Logan's worn tee. No, this fabric was so finely spun that it felt like brushed satin to her skin.
A dress shirt... she realized, smoothing her hand over the material curiously, tilting her head so that she could see who wore it.
Eyes as cold and emotionless as ice met hers, blank but for a spark of something she couldn't quite place in her muddled state.
"Erik," she murmured in realization, her voice sounding strangely weak to her ears. "What happened?"
"You don't remember?" he asked, deep voice noncommittal.
Jean closed her eyes and sighed, allowing her head to fall back against Magneto's solid form, too weary to bother pulling away from him, or to analyze the awkwardness of the situation. His heartbeat thrummed reassuringly into her ear once again, chasing away the small amount of embarrassment that was struggling to rise up.
"No...not really," she began haltingly, wanting to express her confusion, when something in her brain clicked, calling forth a myriad of images that spewed through her head and wiped away the mental fog.
Leaving the X-Men for Magneto.
Entering his enhancement chamber.
Emerging with powers that already far exceeded her wildest expectations, powers that she hadn't even finished exploring yet, despite the numerous tests and exercises her new mentor had devised as part of the recuperation process.
Their journey from a coastal estate - one of his many bases of operations - to upstate New York in a curious metal sphere.
The sweet warmth of summer enveloping her body as she took to the air above the government installation.
And that's when the power had taken over...
Power...like a rush of radiant energy, surging through her veins, under her skin, flaring inside her skull, filling her to the brim, filling her to overflowing, dribbling out through her pores like champagne bubbles.
A presence in her head, forceful and painful and blindingly beautiful, heavy with knowledge – with an agelessness – an impatience – a hunger...
Oh God, so much hunger...
It had infused her entire being, that appetite - that all-consuming need, quelling any thoughts save those bent on the exhilaration of destruction - and experiencing the purity of all attendant sensations - driving her to the base like one possessed until it, and all within, lay before her.
Smoking...blasted...utterly ruined...
"Fitting tribute for a Goddess," Jean murmured before she knew what she was saying. She felt a gleefully satisfied giggle building in her throat at that notion, at that final image of devastation, but swallowed it back down with some effort. "I – I destroyed the base...didn't I?" she asked quietly, both fearful and excited by the expected response.
"You did," Magneto intoned, sounding more than pleased. "You were magnificent," followed on an admiring breath, his arms tightening around her slightly.
Jean could only nod, having little strength to more than that. "I feel weak," she muttered, stating the obvious.
"Understandably so," Magneto soothed, one hand moving to slide down her back. "You collapsed afterwards."
Jean made an irritated noise, no more pleased by the information than by her inability to clearly recall events leading up to that point. "Where are we?" she asked suddenly, not wanting to dwell on either matter.
"In Bayville. The Brotherhood Boarding House."
"Bayville?" Jean looked up at the man, a frown of angry confusion furrowing her brow. "Why? Why have you brought me back here?"
Magneto smiled faintly. "A brief visit, nothing more than that."
"A visit with who?" Jean demanded tightly, her rapid shift in mood stirring her powers to wakefulness and making her shiver.
Unhurriedly, Magneto disentangled himself from her and rose from his seat on the edge of the bed - Jean only then realized that the softness beneath her was that of a velvet duvet-covered mattress - and held out a hand for her to rise. "Come, there are others who need to hear the answer to that question as well."
To the always wonderful reviewers:
Talon - You? A horrible reviewer? Pshaw! Anything you write - rambling or otherwise - is pure gold, m'dear. I'm so glad to hear you're still enjoying my procrastinating efforts, especially since your fics were so instrumental in getting me motivated again - and that I might be returning the favour to some small degree. (Want more CLINIC!) Hee! Lancie and Pie-Pie are doing just fine (now that they've been properly trained), but if you feel like sending over any of those neglected 'goddessless animals' of yours, you won't get any complaints outta me! :D
A. Ceretta - As with Talon, I say PSHAW! Your opinions are never lowly. Offer them as often and as freely as necessary - I love hearing what you have to say! In the case of Lance and Jean, you're absolutely right. In a previous draft (one that I axed eons ago) I had him so riddled with guilt that he was finding it difficult to function. In this different direction that I decided to go with, I'm planning on doing something similar, so here's hoping it works out. ;)
Yrch - ::hands over several freshly baked choco-chip treats in the shape of nekkid Evo boys::
You never fail to crack me up - your reviews are simply priceless. Where's Logan... XD As for the Jean/Remy... ::evil grin:: We'll just have to wait and see, no won't we? Hee! Torment is fun! Besides giving me the giggles, you've also succeeded to, once again, swell my head like some horrible ego balloon. It thrills me to no end that you're simply reading my stuff, let alone enjoying it. I hope I continue to meet with your esteemed approval. ;)