Jean Grey held her eyes closed, hearing a soft humming in the background, as well as faint voices that seemed to be right up close to her, while also being very far away. Her eyes began to slowly open, but she closed them back almost immediately. The only thing Jean caught was bright orange lights passing by, with wherever they were surrounded – covered – in utter darkness.
"Is she awake?" she heard a muffled masculine voice say quietly, almost in a whisper.
"Shh! Let's just let her sleep, for now." said another voice, similarly muffled, albeit feminine. There was weirdly something on her head, covering her ears and touching the top of her head as well.
Jean knew these voices. As they spoke more and more, she began to recognize them: These were her mother and father! At least she knew then that they had both survived the crash, which she couldn't help but blame herself for. After all, it was because of her powers acting up that led to this occuring in the first place.
Her eyes pulled open once more, and she pulled her hands up to her face to rub her eyes, attempting to help herself wake up faster, while she muttered and groaned.
"Jean?" her mother said, as Jean quickly realized she had on earmuffs.
"H… Hi, mom…" said Jean exhaustingly, as she was still not fully awake, but could at least now tell due to the rectangular and long yet thin shape, and the city peaking through the square windows lined up along the walls by the seats, as well as the speed it moved through the city, that they were in a bus. There were only two other people on board. The driver, of course, and an old woman sat in the back, who had on black sunglasses and carried a cane.
It wasn't a large bus by any means, just an average city transport. Since it was dark out, Jean realized some time must've passed.
"What time is it?" she weakly asked her mom, who's shoulder her head fell onto.
"Hang on," said the mother, who pulled a smartphone out of her pocket, as Jean felt a smaller white light brace her peripheral vision, before going back out quickly.
"It's eight PM."
Jean sighed. It was bizarre, she thought, as she hadn't even remembered falling asleep. Had she blacked out and woken up hours later? The young Jean was left to ponder this, as her eyes began to close shut once more, finally with a feeling of peacefulness, unlike earlier that day.
Around this time, a peculiar (and quite grungy) teenager sat awake in a park. Scott had been knocked out of his sleep by an apple falling from the tree above him, striking him smackdab on the stomach. Now, he was trying to use the grass – wet from what he presumed, and frankly hoped, was recent rainfall – to roll the apple around and dampen it, before taking a large bite out of it. He scarfed it down desperately, despite it absolutely not being rain he was putting in his mouth, and being left to lose himself in his thoughts.
Were the police still nearby? Where exactly in New York was he by this point? Earlier that day, he had sped into that train so quickly without thinking about where it was taking him. Due to the massive size of the surrounding location, and the large buildings surrounding it, he presumed he could've been in Central Park about now, but he wasn't certain. To know for sure, Scott stood to his feet. He felt wobbly and like he could lose balance at any moment, but managed to keep moving, albeit barely at first. On the news nearby, he could hear of a dangerous gang led by a mutant still on the loose, but kept going without much thought, as he assumed they were simply like him.
Throughout the night, Scott Summers would walk through the streets of Manhattan, appalled by how much suffering was visible around him – yet no one cared. Others, just like him, practically dying on the sidewalks and in the dark alleyways. Eventually, the clock turned to around one in the morning, or at least that's the time Scott presumed it was. He cut through an alleyway, looking up at the moon in the sky. It was now the first of October, he knew that for sure.
These daily and nightly strolls all rolled together in a blur, but he had no idea where else to go. It was a terrifying and lonely feeling he struggled with, but he'd always just figured the best thing to do was to toughen up and fight through it.
Scott looked down at an outdoor hose laying on the ground outside of an apartment complex, and immediately thinking to get water to drink from it, checked his surroundings. Good. No one seemed to be watching. Turning it on, it immediately sprayed all over his jeans and barely-fitting shoes, which at least told him it was working. But he needed something to put it in, if he wanted a long supply. Then, he began rummaging through the piles of trash that had spilled from the nearby dumpster and onto the ground, hoping to find something to contain the water in.
There was an old, crushed, and empty soda can, but it wouldn't work to fill water in. The state it was in was far too damaged, and the top was broken in completely. And unless he wanted to use his power to cut the top open, which he absolutely did NOT want to ever do, it wasn't a viable option for him.
He eventually saw several old water bottles, the only shocking part being how long it took for him to find any. He grabbed one of the crumpled bottles with it's busted open cap, and brought it over to the hose, filling it to the top. The hose sprayed all down the sides of the bottle, and covered his left hand in water, but he didn't particularly care all too much. About to grab another bottle and fill it with water as well, he tried to turn off the hose, but it wouldn't budge. He kept continuously trying, and eventually it shut off. Scott then barely filled the next bottle a quarter of the way full, before the hose went out completely. Well, there goes that.
Scott kept moving, holding what little water he had in his hand, until it was around half past Five AM. The sun was going to rise soon, and Scott was down half a bottle of water as he was sat down on the sidewalk, watching cars flash by in front of him. They reminded him of what his life once was. He had his mother Katherine, his father Christopher, and his little brother, Alex. They had good, peaceful lives. Or… did. He often wished he could go back, change something about what transpired then, but knew he couldn't.
Hours later, Jean Grey lay in her bed, yawning as she woke from her rest. She sat upright along the edge of her bed, before hopping off and brushing her hair out of the way of her face.
Checking her nearby alarm clock, it was Eight AM.
Rays of light shone through her window's blinds, but still barely present amongst the darkness that surrounded her neat and tidy room, complete with a bedside table with a lamp sat on top of it, wallpaper of an emerald green (her favorite color), a ceiling fan, and three full bookshelves. Two of the shelves were near her bed, and the other was to the right of her door, just between it and the closet. She loved to read, it was possibly her favorite hobby. She always felt as if she could be doing more, but felt as if – even despite her powers – that she didn't really have the means to. If anything, her powers were preventing her from helping anyone, or going out to do much at all. As a young girl, she went out quite often; To school, to dances, to the library, and then it all changed when she was ten years old. When an… accident occurred, and her life changed forever. Just then, three knocks came quickly on her closed door, and she was taken out of her thoughts, a flinch escaping her body due to the sudden noise.
"Jean?"
She realized it was the voice of her mother, and Jean began to calm down.
"Come in." said Jean.
The door opened, and in came her mom.
"...Would you like some breakfast?"
"Um… sure." nodded Jean. The conversation was awkward, which to Jean was understandable; she almost killed them all yesterday. Her mom began to leave the room, before Jean spoke again: "Should we…"
Elaine, Jean's mother, stopped in her tracks and turned to face her daughter, seeming to know what she was getting at. "Let's talk over breakfast, okay?"
Jean wished she could hear her mom's voice in her head, to know what she was thinking, but her power didn't seem to be activating at the moment. It always struck randomly, giving her no control over when it would come in use. Jean had a feeling, however, that she knew what her mother was thinking even without her telepathy active.
She went to the bathroom, and afterwards, headed downstairs to the dining room. Her mother had prepared steak sandwiches for her that morning, along with bacon and a glass of milk. She sat across from Jean, with her father stood in the corner of the room. They all knew that they needed to talk about what happened yesterday, and that they'd have to muster the strength to if they wanted to move forward. That didn't make it easy, though.
"So…" Elaine said awkwardly to start the conversation. "How have your homeschool grades been?"
"You know how my homeschool grades have been." Jean responded.
"Right."
"Mom, there's no point in delaying it. Just tell me whatever it is already."
Elaine looked into her eyes, and knew she was right. "Alright. We're… we're thinking of sending you to a school."
"What?" asked Jean. "Like… like a boarding school?"
She looked to her father, who looked down to his feet.
"Why?" snarled Jean.
"Jean…" said John quietly.
"Why not just therapy? Or something? Why a boarding school!?"
"We've tried therapy. We've tried so many options." said Elaine. "This is the only choice we have left."
She was deep in thought about this, disappointed and disheartened. But she knew deep down this may come some day.
"It's run by Charles Xavier." You remember him, don't you?"
"That… old man who wrote that book on mutation?" asked Jean.
"Mhm." said John. "He's agreed to take you in. Please, Jean. Just listen."
"I don't want to leave my home." Jean said in sorrow, with tears dwelling in her eyes. "I don't want to leave you!" she eyed both of her parents. "Why can't you see that?"
"Jean, I know it's hard." said Elaine, holding her hand out onto the table, which Jean didn't take. "But don't you want to get past all of this?"
"Yes, but…" Jean stopped, not entirely sure what she was going to say next.
"Just take a deep breath, honey." said Elaine comfortingly.
Jean nodded, and inhaled deeply, before exhaling. It didn't help a whole lot, but at least there was a soothing voice beside her. She began to think about it. Maybe the school could be an opportunity. She had felt lonely for so long. Maybe she could meet a friend there who would fill that hole in her life, left by… Annie. Maybe she could get rid of the horrid thoughts that plagued her, and had resulted in herself and others getting harmed so many times.
After minutes of silence which felt like hours, Jean finally worked up the courage to speak to her parents. "Alright." she nodded slowly, wiping the tears that had rolled down her eyes. "I'll go. When… when is it?"
"You're expected to arrive in a week, on Monday." said Elaine. "You can come to visit us when you like, though. The professor has said you can."
"Okay." Jean uttered quietly. At least that was relieving.
And so, she continued eating her breakfast, mentally preparing herself for the next week.
Scott, meanwhile, was still unable to sleep as the sun had risen and the wind was picking up. He sat on a city street corner once his legs could finally no longer carry him, watching the cars pass by as he opened his last remaining water bottle. Just then, a man walked by of average height in a raggedy gray coat, a dirty pale blue T-shirt, and slightly ripped denim jeans that had been so dampened by previous rainfall they almost appeared black.
"Sir?" the man spoke, as Scott turned his attention toward him, "Hm?"
"May I… have some of your water, please?" the man said as he slid down beside Scott.
"Here." Scott said, reaching his hand over, clutching the bottle.
"I don't wanna take it all." said the man.
"You can have it." Scott assured him, as the man took the water.
"What's your name, son?" the other homeless man asked.
"Scott. And you?"
"I'm Jerry. Short for Jerome. My mom's nickname for me. Good lady, or was, before she uh… y'know."
After a silence, Scott continued, "Sorry to hear…. I get how it feels. I lost my mom a long time ago as well."
Scott got a better look at Jerry's face as he turned his attention toward him. He was an older black man with a hairline just starting to recede, and he had gray stubble with scars visibly all over, but Scott could tell he would've been quite attractive in his time.
"Lost mine to a heart attack. Dad, on the other hand…" he paused, going silent for a moment before sighing, "...Car accident."
"It was a plane crash that took both of my parents from me." Scott said calmly, as he looked down, followed by a hand pressing up on his left shoulder. He looked up at Jerry, who was trying to comfort the boy, a warm smile even curving onto his face.
Not sure how to take this affection, as he wasn't used to it, Scott simply changed the topic of conversation. "I think we should get out of here, find somewhere to stay."
Jerry moved his hand from Scott's shoulder, dropping his smile to a neutral expression and nodding. "...You're right. Let's go."
And so the two set off, cautiously wondering through Manhattan throughout that Tuesday morning, as the rain began to fall once more.
... TO BE CONTINUED in Chapter 3!
