In The Heat

An X-men: Evolution fanfic by Lavender Gaia

Editing and Assistance by Laine

Chapter Thirteen: Fallen

Disclaimer: I do not own X-men Evolution, any of its characters or Rachel Summers. They are all property of Marvel. I don't own Daniel Epstein, though I'd like to.

Dedicated to Mr. Firestone, who agreed to push our test (and the outlines along with it) back another week so I could finish this chapter.

Note: I urge everyone to check out Strayphoenix's fic "Letter to the Embers." It's a poem about Jean, and one of the most beautiful, heartfelt things I have read.

Last note, I promise: The title of this chapter came from Sarah McLachlan's "Fallen," which I feel perfectly sums this up. If you can listen to the song along with reading this chapter, I think you might understand more of my mind state while I was writing it.


"Just remember," Destiny reminded her. "What we have seen here today could happen at any time. Ten seconds or ten years, we can not get into the habit of trying to control fate."

Jean nodded. "I understand. Thank you for your help…I guess…" Leaving the older mutant's house, she began to walk back towards her hotel, much too depressed to even think about flying.

"I…I have to run away," she realized to herself. "Somewhere they'll never find me. Australia! The X-men would never have any reason to go to Australia…" This wasn't even justified in her own mind.

The walk through the suburbs was tiring. Emotionally drained, it began to take a toll on her body, though the more she told herself the plan of running away, the more she knew that she had to do it as soon as possible.

It got more crowded the further she went into the city and she let her thoughts drift and body run on autopilot. In hindsight, this wasn't the best idea. Suddenly, a rough hand pulled her into an alleyway and cold metal was placed to her throat from behind. "Give me your purse," a deep voice ordered.

Jean sighed. "You know, this isn't the best time. I'm really not in the mood."

"Like I care, bitch. Give it to me." The gun pressed deeper into her flesh.

In almost all of the woman's self-defense classes she'd ever taken, they always said to give a mugger what he wanted. These classes generally didn't pertain to telepathic telekinetics who had just learned they had enough power to blow up the universe.

The man was flung against the wall as Jean levitated the gun in mid-air, bending the metal like it was a pipe cleaner. "Listen, idiot. I'm having a really bad day. You're not helping. So you're going to run home to your whores or whoever and you're going to stay there and learn some damn respect for women! Got it!"

She was seeing red—literally. So much that she almost didn't notice him nod furiously before depositing him on his ass. He ran, screaming about devil women. Jean continued on her way, with no tolerance for anything, including the pimp that had tried to recruit her, a guy handing out flyers in a hot dog outfit, and the stupid girl scouts with their stupid cookies that wouldn't take stupid credit cards.

Even her hotel room was no longer a sanctuary. Whoever she had the unfortunate luck to be next door to was having a screaming argument. "Shut up!" Jean pounded on the wall so hard that parts crumbled, but the couple ignored it.

"Please stop…" Her anger was turning into quiet desperation as her head threatened to split apart right there on the spot. At that point, she wasn't sure if she was talking to the neighbors or herself. She had curled on the floor, practically unable to move thanks to the crippling pains shooting through her head.

With her last ounce of strength, she pulled herself into the tiny stall that was supposed to double as a bathroom, throwing up what little she'd eaten into the toilet. Stomach significantly emptied, she began to run the bath, not trusting herself to stand and reach the sink.

The sound of running water was almost soothing. Eyes closed to prevent the fluorescent lights from worsening the throbbing pain, she splashed some water on her burning skin. When the dizziness subsided enough for her to open her eyes, the reflection from the water that looked back at her wasn't pretty. It looked like her, but she knew it wasn't. The reflection was wrong.

Before she could question herself more, a devastating shock went through her body, ripping her apart. A scream tore through her throat, one of desperation, pain beyond measure of anything that had ever been or ever would be. Reserves spent, Jean Grey gave up and let the pain overtake her.


She couldn't move. Her body wouldn't respond and she wondered if she had died and it was trying to separate itself from her body. Then the pain set in and Jean decided that Heaven was highly overrated.

"I hear you moaning. Are you awake then?" Destiny? What was Destiny doing in Heaven?

Forcing her eyelids open, the first thing her green eyes managed to focus on was the ceiling. That made sense, since she was lying on the couch. Scanning what she could of her surroundings, everything seemed to be in order, except for the front door and immediate wall supporting the debris. "What happened?"

"You happened." Irene sounded surprised at her ignorance.

"I…I'm not sure I understand," Jean prodded for further information.

"There's a television in front of you. I can't use it, but turn to any station and you'll understand." The woman handed her a mug of tea—she wasn't going to begin to ask how she made it exactly to her liking—and retreated once again into the kitchen.

Finding a remote control, she turned the television on and was greeted by Channel Seven news. "This is Daniel Epstein reporting for Channel Seven, directly above the remains of Detroit."

Jean's heart dropped into her stomach as the cameraman panned over the city—or what was left of it. Every structure had been demolished and more than half the city was burning, dead bodies everyone. She felt as if she would be sick again.

"This is the closest anyone can get to the city at the moment, as the President believes this was an act of terrorist, including bioterrorism at one of the highest levels. Detroit and surrounding suburbs have been demolished. The few Haz Mat teams that have been allowed in have found no one alive yet, and don't expect to. The attack was a complete annihilation."

The redhead began shaking from the couch. "Who…what…?"

"You, Jean," Destiny told her. "And after you were finished you came to be with the last of your energy before losing it. Are you sure you don't remember anything?"

"I would never do anything like this!" She screamed, burying her hands in her head.

The woman was quiet for a minute, before prompting, "Never?" Jean immediately remembered the horrible future visions she'd been shown. Neither of the two believed that they would come to pass so soon. Fear shot through her and she couldn't help but think of what would happen next.

"I…But I don't remember it at all," she whispered in a final defense.

"Brown out, I suppose. It's when you do something you don't like and cover the memories so as to forget about them." Destiny's voice was gravely low.

On the television, they had switched from shots of the wreckage and dead bodies back to the reporter. "So far the estimated death toll will be almost one million civilians, if not more. The government will be looking in to this and means to bring the person or group who did this to justice. For continued coverage, stick with WGN, channel seven."

Jean found it hard to swallow. "I killed one million people."

"You weren't yourself." It was Irene's pathetic way of cheering her up. "When you burst into my house first all I felt were debris before I heard your voice fading and you passed out on the couch. The radio was already turned on, and I heard everything from there."

The disgust she felt in herself made Jean sit up. "I have to leave. I have to go somewhere that I can't hurt anyone else."

"Where?" Irene demanded. "Where can you go where you won't be a threat!"

"I'll figure something out!" Tears of self-loathing fell down her cheeks. "I have to. I won't hurt the ones I love."

Silence greeted her, until, "I wish you luck. And Godspeed."

With an irony that just fit the day she was having, Jean realized that her stuff was at the door. In between the murder of an entire metropolis and the destruction of the city, she'd somehow managed to remember her bags. "I'm sorry about your house," she whispered as a last resort.

"Do not pity me," Destiny instructed, voice hard again. "I have my life; more than a million others have."

The sentence was a knife through her heart and she couldn't force herself to respond as she flew off. The world faded away as she headed towards the clouds, dipping into the new found power to help her go faster. If she was to leave her loved ones forever, she deserved a last goodbye. Even death row prisoners got that.

Before she realized, she had landed on her parent's lawn in Connecticut. This was the house she'd grown up with. Her greatest lost had been here. At the time, she felt she would never get over Annie, never feel a pain such as that again. Right this moment, that pain as a trade in for her current one would be a blessing from God himself.

The door wasn't open. It didn't need to be. Everything she needed opened for her. John and Elaine Grey were in the living room, watching the replays of whatever cameras had gotten shots of what was left of Detroit and Pleasant Ridge. She shrank back from the screen, not sure if she wanted them to see her or not. Their daughter, the mass murderer and destroyer of cities.

But even now she could not fool her mother. "Jean! What are you doing here?" Elaine rushed to her, holding her daughter tightly.

The tension was released as her mother hugged her. Nothing was more comforting than that, but she mentally kicked herself; after what she did, she didn't deserve comfort. "Oh, Mommy," she cried.

Mrs. Grey didn't so much as flinch as tears soaked her shoulder. "Dear, what's wrong?"

From the couch, Mr. Grey stared at his daughter, but decided to go with it in stride. "Have you seen the news, Elaine? Who wouldn't be heartbroken over this catastrophe?"

Jean wrenched herself from her mother's grasp. "I didn't mean to!"

Paling simultaneously, the Greys stared at their youngest daughter in shock. "Hon, what are you talking about?" Her father insisted, standing.

"It was an accident," she pleaded, sobbing freely. "Everything just got so out of control, I couldn't stop it. You have to believe me!"

"This isn't funny, Jean, stop it!" Elaine begged.

"Of course it's not funny, it's the truth!" The young redhead leaned against the wall, curling into herself. "Oh, please, you have to know I didn't mean to. I never wanted to hurt anyone…"

John inched towards her carefully, "Sweetheart, please." His hand reached out to rest on her shoulder, only meeting a barrier as she backed away, screaming in terror.

"NO! Stop, I don't want to hurt you! Mommy, Daddy…I can't stand to hurt anyone else!"

"It'll be alright, Jean!" Mrs. Grey was crying as well now. "We'll make it alright!"

"How?" She screamed. "I killed one million people! How can that ever be alright?"

Elaine collapsed against her husband as he tried to reason with her, "We…We can figure something out. You said yourself that you didn't mean to."

"It doesn't take back the fact that I did. That's why I'm leaving. So I can never hurt anyone else again." She broke towards the door, only stopping when her mother yelled for her to wait. "I…I love you both so much," Jean explained. "No one could hope for better parents. Tell Sarah I love her too. One day I hope you'll forget about me and be happy. Please…try." Before anything her parents said could hold her back, she took off again, heading towards a final destination.

The Greys stood there in shock, wondering if this was one bad dream. Finally, John said, "I have to call Charles," leaving his wife to quietly sob over their lost daughter.

Professor Xavier was one of the few who were up at the late hour of night at the Institute. He thought that most of his students had gone to bed and was finishing up business that never seemed to get done during waking hours. Needless to say, he was more than surprised to receive a call from his old colleague. "John? Is everything all right?"

"Something's wrong with Jean!" He told the other professor. "She…she came her, saying that it was an accident and she didn't mean to do it."

"Didn't mean to do what?"

"The Detroit massacre."

Xavier's heart stopped. He and the fellow teachers had discussed that it could have been an extremely powerful mutant and though he knew Jean was away, none of them even flirted with the idea that it had been her. "Are you sure?"

"I'm positive. If she hasn't shown up yet, then I'm sure she's on her way. My wife and I believe she wanted to say goodbye to everyone before leaving for good, so as not to hurt any of the people she loved," Mr. Grey explained.

"I…Thank you, John. I do promise I shall take care of it." Hanging up on his friend without another word, he called out telepathically, Teachers and X-men, please report to the Ready Room immediately. This is a Code Red and NOT a drill.

Because the Danger Room had been demolished, they'd set up the Ready Room to talk about strategies to use in battle when they couldn't practice them. More or less, it was a war council room. He'd never thought they'd have to use it so soon, or under these circumstances.

Within three minutes, all X-men were in their uniforms ready to be addressed. "Thank you for arriving so promptly. I'm sorry to pull you out of your beds, but this is an important matter. It's about Jean."

"What about her?" Scott asked. He'd been so worried every since his girlfriend had randomly left.

"I'm sure you all have seen the clips of what happened on television, what they're calling a terrorist attack on Detroit. Well, it wasn't," Charles said simply. "It was Jean."

Everyone was silent until Rogue choked out, "That's a lie."

"My dear, how I wish it were. It seems from the report I got from her parents that our girl has completely lost control of her power. It has grown so large that I'm not sure what she can do about it. She should be on her way here, and I believe our only course of action is to use the new machine Hank and I have been developing." He looked over at the Beast. "Care to explain?"

Mr. McCoy could guess what he was talking about. "It's a helmet that suppresses mutant powers as long as it's on. Though it's still being tested, I don't see any harm of trying it on Jean."

Wolverine unsheathed his claws. "We're supposed to fight against Jeannie?"

"Charles, we can't do that!" Storm agreed.

"If there were any other way, I would try it. You know that," the professor took a deep breath. "There…there is no other way. We have to subdue her and get her under control."

His announcement was met once again with silence until Cyclops whispered, "What's our plan?"

"Cyclops, I want you to wait for Jean to come back. Cover your uniform; I don't want her getting whiff of what's going on. The rest of you will be on watch. As soon as she gets in and calmed, we get the helmet on her. Hank, I'd really rather you stay and protect the students as much as possible. If you could teach Kitty the controls…?"

Beast nodded. "Come on, Kitty. You're getting a crash course in How To Take Down Your Best Friend."

The two left and Xavier dismissed everyone else to their positions. As he teleported back to the common area, Nightcrawler ran into Rachel, who came to see what all the commotion had been. "Kurt, what's going on?"

"I…I don't think I'm allowed to tell you, liebchen. I'm sorry." He stroked her cheek, heart aching for his friend.

"Too bad I'm a telepath then." Within a second, she had absorbed the last conversation. "What's going on with Mom?"

The professor wheeled out to where they were standing. "Rachel, go upstairs."

"Professor X, what's--?"

"Go upstairs, Rachel!" He ordered harsher, trying to spare her as much pain as possible.

"But it's my mother!" she protested.

Charles's voice turned soft and dangerous. "I won't ask you again."

The young redhead looked back and forth between the two mutants before rushing to her room. "Do you think that was the right thing to do, sir?" Kurt asked quietly.

"She doesn't need to see this," was his answer.

The blue boy sighed. "None of us do."


Everyone was correct in assuming that Jean would go home next; as much as she'd grown up with her parents, the Institute had been her home for the past few years. As she flew, she considered her options of where to go. Everywhere there were people, and with the heat she was radiating, she'd melt anywhere else. It was the hardest question to ask: Where do you go to escape yourself?

Lightly, she landed outside the Institute, realizing that she'd somehow rearranged the molecules of her clothes to form her new uniform. For a fight against her own body, this wasn't completely inappropriate. She snuck inside, putting her bag down as Scott emerged from the rec room in his bathrobe. "Jean?"

"Scott." All of her confidence shed immediately, as she watched him look at her in concern. "I thought you'd be asleep."

"Couldn't sleep," he told her softly, reaching out and stroking her cheek. She didn't pull away, though she didn't deserve the gentle kindness of his caress.

"I shouldn't be here," she whispered, stepping back.

He frowned. "Why not? This is your home."

"No. Not anymore. Scott, I have to go away." The words were crushing her in a way she'd never realized. "I did something horrible, something I can never make up for."

"I don't care!" Scott insisted, pulling her close. "No matter what you've done, I will always love you." The two kissed frantically before Jean finally broke away.

Her heart pounded so fast she felt she might have a heart attack. "Please, I can't stay. I don't want to hurt you. Just, just let me go."

Scott was too fast for her barriers, grabbing her wrist to keep her from running away. "Jean, we can talk about this. You can't just run away from your problems!"

"There's nothing else to do!" She screamed, pushing him back with much harder force than she'd meant to. Scott crashed into the wall on the other side of the room. "Scott! Oh my god, Scott. Please…Oh, forgive me!" Jean ran out the front door as Scott pulled out his communicator, signaling for the rest of the X-men to go after her.

Storm and Wolverine were already outside. "Calm down, Red, it's just us."

"Jean, child, we can help you!"

She turned to run again, only to face Rogue. "Sugah, I'm sorry about this." Her ungloved hand reached out to touch Jean's bare skin. The connection only lasted for a moment or two until Rogue broke away with a scream, arm on fire and a searing pain through that and more.

Jean screamed in fear even after the fire went out, running the other way, where she stumbled back, avoiding Cyclops's optic blast. This was enough time for Kurt to port over and put the metal helmet on her head. "Hit it, Shadowcat!"

"Sorry about this!" Kitty apologized, quickly punching in the programming. It was working exactly the way Mr. McCoy had taught her and she grinned until the metal warped, ripping and shredding before being tossed everywhere from Phoenix's power. Nightcrawler had just enough time to get away before a piece of shrapnel landed on his body.

"You don't understand!" Jean announced from fifteen feet in the air, a fiery glow emanating from her body. "I can't be controlled!"

From her window on the second floor, Rachel could see everything with wide eyes. She wasn't the only one who was watching, but she was the first of the students to storm down the stairs, where she met the Beast. "Kids, all go back immediately," he ordered, blocking the way.

Rachel wasn't putting up with any of this bullshit anymore. "I'm sorry, Mr. McCoy." Using her telekinesis, she pushed him aside, giving her and the rest of the kids enough time to run outside. The younger redhead ran to Kitty's side, staring up at Jean. "MOM!"

That got the other telekinetics' attention. "Rachel…"

"Jean, where are you going to go?" the Professor reasoned, after everyone was quiet enough that she could hear him. "There will never be a place where you and everyone else are safe until you can control what you can do or you don't have it anymore!"

She understood this and the silent option she'd wrestled with became the only choice. "I know. I know. I'll miss you all, so much."

The telepaths in the crowd were the only ones who understood. "Jean, no!" Charles begged.

"Mom, stop it, please! We love you, we can help!" Kitty held her back as Rachel fought furiously to get to her mother.

"I love you too…" Her voice grew faint. "I guess this is goodbye." With one final burst of power and a strangled cry, the fire burst and then went out.

"JEAN!" Scott cried as he ran forward to catch her falling body. He cradled the dying woman in his arms, his tears dripping down to mix with hers. "Jean, no, please."

She smiled up at him. "Oh, Scott. I'm so glad you're safe…" With that, the fire of Jean Grey, the X-men's Phoenix, went out forever.


A/N: Questions, comments, reactions and reviews are greatly appreciated.
Review Responses:

Rogue14: I'm glad you think it's interesting. Hope you like this chapter.

Diaz F.: I can promise you that this follows the comic very very loosely. Though if you ever get a chance to read the Dark Phoenix Saga, I urge you to do so, it's excellent.

DOJ: I try to make it my goal to fit in as many miscellaneous characters as possible and still make it make sense to the plot. Yeah, I'm a shopaholic like in the books. It's gotten me into trouble more than once, I can assure you, but I sympathize with your sister.

Jacx: Scott and Rachel will certainly need each other in coming chapters. Thanks for reading.

Wen1: If your questions were not answered in this chapter, they will be answered in the new two or so, I promise!

Maddisonavenue: Well, by now, you probably know the answer to your question. Thanks for reading.

Sweetmidnight: I'm glad you think so! Thank you so much.

Amazing redd phoenix: Phoenix chapters certainly weren't far away at all. I hope you like this chapter.

Reddfire: I'm so happy you like this story. Thanks for reviewing.

Strayphoenix: I feel like I should hide…Yes, I liked putting in Agatha and Destiny, as well as all my Rachel and JOTT scenes. Don't worry about being bipolar, I am too. So yes…I left off there…and you know what happens now. So I'm gonna run before I get attacked…

Telepathic Angel: I hate writing short chapters, I'm really just a person with too much to say. Every year or so I up my "Each chapter has to be so many words long" by at least 500 words. I hope you like this chapter!