Author's Note: I'll probably be submitting one or two chapters a day (since I just finished the series yesterday), so the updating process should go relatively smoothly. Hope you all are enjoying it so far!
Summary: My initial take on what X3: The Last Stand would be like. Centered around Scott, Logan,and Storm's grief for Jean...they quickly learn that Jean has grown far stronger than ever imagined.. Magneto is drawn to Jean's sudden growth in power, and is also alarmed by the human's decision to create the "cure"...
Rating: Between T-M. There is a fair amount of language, semi-frequent mildadult-type-themes, and violence.
Main Characters (most main to lesser): Scott Summers, Jean Grey/Phoenix, Logan (Wolverine), Ororo (Storm), Magneto, Xavier, Rogue, Bobby, Mystique, Pyro...more in later chapters.
Pairings: major Scott/Jean, minor Logan/Ororo, moderate Logan/Jean, moderate Rogue/Bobby, and more in later chapters...
X-men is in no way owned by me...because otherwise I would have changed the way X3: The Last Stand was written. This fan fiction is also completely movie-verse.
Chapter 5 -- Blind Denial
"Hey…" Scott mumbled, reaching a hand across the bed towards the woman who stood beside the mattress. "Come here…" he gave a small hint of a smile.
Jean reluctantly lowered herself so she sat on the very edge of the bed, farthest from Scott. She then smiled generously, and her hand slowly made it's way to his. When her fingertips grazed his skin, her face fell slightly yet it went unnoticed. She then wound her fingers between his and then blinked nervously before managing to meet his eyes, or rather his glasses.
"You ready?" he mumbled again, his face half buried by the sheets that were strewn wildly across him.
"As long as you're there, I'm sure I'll be fine," she whispered, trying to show a confident smile.
His smile grew at her response, and then he rubbed his thumb in circles against her hand. "Don't worry," he whispered as he pushed himself into a sitting position, "I'm not leaving."
Then the two simply stared at each other for a moment or two, in silence. Scott's head was slightly tilted to the side as he continued to massage Jean's hand, and her eyes took in every shadow and curve of the muscles of his bare chest. She quickly tore her gaze away and then stood slowly.
"I might as well get ready then," she added as she sauntered off towards the closet.
Scott nodded as his hand fell limply from her hold, and then he raked a hand through his hair as he mentally went over the possibilities of the other's reactions.
After several minutes of indecisive outfit-picking, showering, combing, and make-up applying, the couple strode hand in hand from their suite, slowly making their way towards the Professor's office. Scott wasn't particularly looking forward to revealing Jean, because he knew that it would mean that she'd have to have six million more tests ran, and she would be taken from him for quite some time. Jean was slightly anxious as well...
Jean suddenly took in a quick breath and parted her lips as if to speak, when Scott interjected:
"What is it?"
"…I'm hungry," she sighed. She then pulled her gaze away from his in a discrete fashion.
"No problem…" he replied, leading her to the kitchen instead.
As the two shifted paths, Jean's eyes traced the wooden floor, then the pattern on the wall, then they found the window as they entered the kitchen. She drifted away from Scott's hold as she went to stare out of the glass. Something outside caught her interest, although when she neared it, she seemed to loose track of it. Instead she looked down slyly at the spare utensils on the table that she leaned on, and her fingers traced the steak knife.
"Jean?" The sudden noise startled her and she nearly yelped as she spun around.
"Yes?" she replied, trying her best to keep control of her shaking voice.
"What do you want?" Scott pressed on, acting as if nothing was out of the ordinary.
She sighed slightly impatiently and then shifted her weight as she rolled her eyes. "Anything," she breathed, cueing Scott to dig through the pantries for breakfast foods.
"Go ahead and sit…this won't take long," Scott finally stated, after plucking some bread and a box of cereal out of one of the cabinets.
Jean nodded half-heartedly as she sank into one side of the booth-like seats near the window. She propped her head up on one arm and then combed through her hair slowly with her nimble fingers. Anxiety and adrenaline bubbled menacingly in her stomach, and it was nearly to the point of making her sick. She uttered a faint moan as she rested her head against the cool glass table top, and as she did Scott appeared at her side almost magically, checking to make sure she was okay.
As his fingers grazed her arm, she lifted her head slightly and met his eyes. She swallowed harshly, and then looked to the fingers that had suddenly stopped moving when they caught each other's gaze. Time seemed to pause for a moment, and then the toaster gave a sharp ding on the counter behind them. Jean again sighed and looked away, trying to distract herself from the painful thoughts of having lost several months of her life. She secretly smiled to herself as she watched the man across the room.
Scott reappeared what seemed like only a few seconds later and he served breakfast to Jean and himself as he sank into the seat opposite her.
Jean hardly ate; it was more like she needed the food to simply preoccupy herself from a lurking fear. Several times her eyes flashed up to Scott's gaze, which was primarily set on her. He began to worry after about the twelfth time she looked to him.
"You okay?" he breathed, reaching out instinctively for her again.
She nodded, although she conveniently couldn't meet his gaze at that moment.
"Jean," he whispered, lifting her chin with his other hand. Her eyes remained closed as he lifted her eyes to his level. "Jean…please just talk to me…" he paused and seemed to choke over the words, "I want to help you."
"That's just it," she whispered, "You can't."
Scott flinched back slightly. His eyes darted between hers, although she couldn't see his slightly shocked antics from behind the lenses. "Jean…" he shook his head, "I…I don't understand… You…we've always…"
"You act as if this is so final…" she whispered in response, feeling his desperate pain.
"Jean, I lost you. I can't…nor won't let it happen again," he coughed as he forgot to breathe.
"Scott…" she sighed and then paused. "You need to let go," her voice was rapidly climbing in strength and seductiveness, "Let go of your heart for once." She edge closer to him, her fingers curling slightly. "You can't help me…or anyone…" she continued, drawing nearer to his ear as her voice fell into a whisper, "She's gone. You failed as a leader, Scott." Her knee bumped dully against the edge of the table.
"You failed," she paused as she smirked into his ear, "as her love."
Suddenly there was a sharp, yet concentrated prick of pain in his shoulder, and then he felt heat exploding from his eyes. Jean's scream echoed in his ear, for her lips were at his ear when she attacked him, and he, in turn, attacked her right back.
She'd attempted to stab him with a knife, while he'd seen her plan and he shot at her leg, paralyzing it temporarily.
"Who the hell are you?" he snarled, grabbing the woman's neck. He already knew the answer, but he had to be sure, since nothing seemed to go as planned anymore.
"I though you would have figured it out," she rasped, her eyes flashing gold as a confident grin snaked over her lips.
"I swear to god…I swear to god…" Scott grimaced, holding her higher.
"Jean? …Scott!" a female voice cried from the other entrance to the kitchen. Storm stood in the opening, and Scott flashed a warning glare at her.
Logan wasn't too far behind Storm, and he saw that Scott and Jean were having another "lover's quarrel," and thus he grabbed Storm's arm forcefully and dragged her out the opposite exit of the dining area as Scott silently thanked Logan. No need for Ororo to start assuming ludicrous things now…
Although as Logan dragged Storm away, she squirmed from under his death-grip, and she cried out in objection. Moments before the two had just visited a sleeping Phoenix, and Logan and Storm had discussed what was in store for her, and possibly the fate of mutants entirely. The discussion did not end happily. Beside that, Storm instantly believed that the woman Scott held mercilessly was truly Jean, just as he and Logan had the night before. Because how could Phoenix possibly escape her asylum and then get caught single handedly by Scott? It was simply impossible…so the only option was to believe the woman truly was Jean, and Phoenix was her clone.
But as Logan managed to tug Storm out of the room, he threw her against the wooden wall of the lengthy corridor. He pressed a finger to her objecting lips, and then whispered, "Give them their space, Storm."
She quieted slightly, and then hissed, "That was Jean..! And Scott was trying to hurt her… Please Logan let me go…I'll go in and help them…"
"I don't think so," Logan growled, taking her arm again, but this time he drew her into a half-embrace, keeping her still. "You're not going anywhere," he purred into her ear.
Thunder cracked menacingly over the roof of the mansion; a smirk played at Logan's chuckling lips.
"Funny," he muttered, still not releasing his tight hold around her.
Inside the kitchen, Mystique's leg was injured badly, and blood cascaded down at an alarming rate. She struggled for air as Scott continued to crush her throat.
"Give me a reason not to," he snarled, reaching for his glasses again. "I'll make sure not to miss," he taunted.
Mystique clawed at his hands. "You…" she wheezed, her skin was being dyed a rich shade of blue as she struggled to find a legit answer.
"Get the hell out," Scott barked, "and don't you dare overshadow Jean again. I swear to god I'll kill you if you do." The raving man then whipped off his glasses in a fraction of a second, and Mystique went flying out the same exit that Logan and Storm had fled from mere moments before.
Storm yelped for the sudden noise of the woman's body colliding with the wooden walls startled her. Logan's grip became instinctively tighter on her, but he soon released her as he got an eyeful of who'd come to join them.
"Well, well, well," Storm sighed, feeling extremely let down.
"Seems like you sank to an all time low," Logan commented, facing the weakened shape-shifter.
Mystique staggered to her knees, and then looked up to the two in almost-shock. Her eyes flashed from Logan to Storm, and then to the kitchen. The gold spheres widened in anxiety, and then she gave a faint whine as she forced herself, through the pain, to flee. She bolted for the first available exit: a window, and managed to dodge Logan and Storm's seemingly slow reactions.
Logan wanted to chase the blue woman, his natural animal instincts cutting into his common sense. But he paused and both of the X-men in the hall turned their heads as Scott uttered a string of profane words from within the kitchen.
She staggered down the secluded forest path at an incredibly slow rate. She'd partially ripped the communicator out of her ear, simply because she was annoyed with herself and knew that any minute Magneto would come on to chew her out.
Her leg, which she had to drag alongside her, didn't make things much better either.
She left a small trail of blood behind her with each staggering step she took, and she did indeed have to slow her pace because she had to drag the one leg to keep balance.
Mystique swore to herself, but quickly drew a sharp breath when she heard the scuttle of brush behind her. Her eyes darted nervously to the side, but she continued to limp along.
Again the shaking of leaves zipped recklessly behind her. This time she actually whipped her head around, adrenaline taking hold of her senses.
"What are you getting nervous for…?" she hissed under her breath, again scolding herself for allowing her to worry about followers. She shook herself and then pressed on, heading towards her doom back with Magneto.
But she whimpered inaudibly when a ring of military soldiers sprang up around her, closing off any possible exit. She feigned backwards as she looked from one man to the next, trying not to let fear take hold.
"Freeze, mutant," one man demanded from behind her.
She whipped around again, and gritted her teeth. She hated being cornered…almost as much as she hated authority. "Why should I? It's not like I was doing anything wrong," she hissed, muscles tensing.
"Your existence is wrong, little lady," he retorted, cocking the rifle that was pressed into his shoulder.
Her lip twitched at the sound of the gun. She then bit down hard, clenching her jaw.
"It'd be best if you just come with us, missy," he repeated, not lowering the gun.
"Oh, real smooth," she breathed, "Tell that to me when you haven't got the damn guns." She then lurched forward, and despite her slight stumbling, she managed to take out the man calling the threats. She quickly turned to face the other dozen or so men, and she uttered a curse beneath her breath as she welcomed the fight that she was doomed to loose.
It'd taken five tranquilizers to actually make Mystique fall back to any amount. It taken nine to actually knock her out.
When she woke, she moaned quietly. A severe pain burned in her leg, and then something stung in her neck. Her head pounded ominously, and she struggled just to prop herself up and keep her eyes open.
"Where the hell am I…?" she questioned, her words slightly slurred.
She blinked hard, and then rubbed her eyes, clearing her blurred vision. She didn't do well with sedatives.
"What the fu…" she breathed, looking at the bars before her in shock.
"I'm in a fricking jail cell?" she breathed in alarm. This was certainly not good.
Scott had fled back to his suite almost instantly after Mystique escaped. Logan and Storm had tried to reason with him, telling him that they'd all fallen for it, but he objected.
"How the hell could she have possibly done the telekinesis on the door?" he barked.
"I don't know…" Logan had replied. "But she's obviously gotten better with her powers. Maybe Mystique's grown so that she can actually use other mutant's powers. I don't know, damnit."
Scott didn't buy it, and therefore he shut the two out as he stormed off down the hall, once again falling into denial and doubt.
This left Ororo and Logan sitting across from each other on the island-type counter. Logan fidgeted with a hot soda as Storm cleaned the remains of Scott's breakfast.
Finally she broke the silence as she commented, "That was some death-grip you had back there."
Logan arched an eyebrow and then replied, "I told you that you weren't gettin' away."
She chuckled to herself as she scrubbed the dishes halfheartedly. She wished her own heart was as unenthusiastic, for it was doing flips at this point. "Why though?" she perused the conversation that has clearly ended.
"Hmm?" Logan mumbled, looking up again.
"Why were you so insistent upon holding me?" she smirked.
Silence. He then slowly replied, "You would have gone back in there. Tried to fix Scott and Mystique, when he had to fix it himself."
Ororo raised her eyebrows for a minute, then considered it. Maybe he was right; she'd thought that Scott was fighting with Jean, instead of Mystique. If she'd of gone in to try to sort things out, she probably would have been more willing to believe Jean, and thus endangered them further. As it was, she'd seen the minor stab wound in his shoulder…no telling what Jean-Mystique could have pulled off when everyone thought she was truly Jean.
"Someone needs to tell the professor," she added.
Logan nodded and said, "I'll go."
Storm flinched as he finally left the room. She was alone now, with the golden glow of dawn filtering through the window. She turned around and leaned against the sink, palms gripping the edges of the counter as her back leaned against it, to face the welcoming sunrise. Ororo sighed heavily, feeling as if she'd been freed from the inescapable grasp that Logan had bestowed upon her.
"God…" she breathed, closing her eyes. "Gimme a break," she mouthed.
Logan peeked back into the room, and added in and interested tone, "A break from what?"
She caught his gaze through the corners of her eyes, and then she thought to herself: "The intoxication never quits, does it?"