Jean did not know where she was; only that she was somewhere dark. Someone was calling her. "Jean? Jean, I need you."
It wasn't the professor, but a woman. Not her mother, nor a friend.
It sounded like her own voice.
"Please, Jean, come out, I need you," the voice beseeched.
"Who are you?" she asked.
"I'm your heart. I'm your passion and your power." There was a spark in the darkness now, which became a figure, drawing nearer. She knew the shape of her own body—it was she herself, only incandescent.
Memories were coming back to her now—the jet, the two enemy planes, firing on them.
On them. She hadn't been alone. Rogue and Grace were with her.
Did I kill them?
"No, no, they live. They live, and that means we're in danger."
"In danger? From Rogue and Grace? Never."
"Not from them. From those who speak to them. They want to separate us—."
"That would be fine with me. You made me kill a man. You nearly killed my friends, and the lawsuit would have died with Grace!"
"Together we are powerful enough that we don't need Grace or her lawsuit. Listen. I hear them speak, I know what they will do. They want to kill me, me, your heart, your fire. They'll take me to pieces, they'll dissolve me in the ocean and muffle me in the earth. They'll make my voice no more than the wind in the trees. I want to live. Doesn't everything have that right?"
"Ask the steer whose sirloin we ate earlier."
"Jean, don't! Without me, you'll be a bird with clipped wings. Your world will shrink."
"What do you need me for, then?"
"Without you, I don't know what I want. I don't know who I am. All I have is what you give me. You breathe, and I taste the air. You love, and I feel the joy. You eat, and I'm nourished."
"Then why did you take me over and shove me in here?" She could half-tell where she was, now. Inside her own head, within walls built by someone else.
"I had to, so we would live. Come out, Jean. Come out and save me, save us."
The noise out in the hallway, indistinct as it was, carried in to the Professor, who was still absorbing the lion's information. Xavier watched as both Grace and Rogue, their expressions identically puzzled and worried, glanced around at the three 'little friends' who were present.
"They're snickering." Grace said. "I find that mildly upsetting."
"Mah dragon—well, he isn't really mine, Ah kinda borrowed this shirt from Pyro's closet, and it's ruined. Ah don't know what Ah'm gonna tell him. Anyhow, mah dragon was laughing about something before."
"You could ask Callisto to see if she can salvage the dragon himself, and use that part of it in another garment." Grace suggested. "All right, what are you giggling about? Just wait until they start flirting with each other. They sound just like pre-teens."
"Mother—!" Pietro came zipping into the room. "Wait till you hear what he's done—."
"What did you just call me?"
"He did it again!" Erik said, with relish. "He referred to you as 'Mother' before. I think that constitutes a sincere desire that you become one of the family."
"He went and suggested to Doom that he marry my sister. I suppose if you want to marry Father," Pietro added, begrudgingly, "it's all right with me. Although I don't know why you would, when he goes and does things like this."
Grace shut her eyes. "That's why they're snickering. Of course they're going to enjoy this, one of them suggested earlier that I try to fix her up with—somebody else."
"I can see a problem there." Erik admitted, "as I promised him you would give him what honorable help you could to promote his suit. What her preferences and dislikes are, that sort of thing."
Her eyes flew open. "What sort of thing? What are we talking about here? Favorite flowers, favorite music, what she's looking for in a husband?"
"Flowers and music, I'm assuming."
"They won't stop snickering." Rogue observed. "Mah dragon's busting a gut and holding his ribs."
"All right. I think I've had enough for one night." Grace concluded. "It's all arranged. Tomorrow morning, I move in to the Angevins for the duration of the week or so I've got to spend in bed. Ella is a doctor. We spend tonight here. The Professor goes home to use Cerebro and locate Jean. After that, he, various X-Men, and Rogue go off to destroy the Firebird.
"I do my best not to worry, and you," She smiled quite wickedly at Erik. "get to explain to Wanda who you're trying to set her up with. Don't go calling her tonight, either of you, you'll only wake her. I've just been told to help Doom with what he wants to know, which means I'm just as confused as ever. Now all of you get out and let me sleep."
"Can I tell Wanda? I really want to." pleaded Callisto, as they went out the door.
Doom was being the perfect host; Xavier's room was fully handicapped accessible, which he appreciated. There was little chance that he would sleep, however, as his thoughts kept chasing each other around his head. As he lay back, trying to quiet them, a knock came on his door.
"Charles? Are you awake?" It was Erik.
"Yes."
"Might I have a word with you?"
What now? "If you must."
"I have a question to put to you." Magneto sauntered in. "Precisely what is Grace doing to my mind and my emotions?"
The professor sighed. I had hoped he wouldn't catch on. How vain a hope that was…
"It isn't only you. Everyone around her is affected—human and mutant alike. Her mind sends out a signal which stimulates the production of certain brain chemicals which combat depression, stress, and confusion. She's not aware she's doing it, and the signal originates in the autonomous nervous system. The result is that people—both yours and mine—feel better and get along better."
"And you did not tell me this because….?"
"Because…Erik, has it ever occurred to you that I might have greater concerns at the moment than you and your problems, namely, the whereabouts of Jean and her current sanity?" I don't care if I sound snappish. I have been endlessly patient and supportive and I think I have earned it.
Magneto seemed taken aback. Then he laughed. "So Saint Charles Xavier reveals that his plaster has a few cracks in it. It's as though I took a chocolate and found a jalapeno in it rather than marshmallow. Good for you, Charles. I shall go away and solve my own problems. Good night."
"Good night."
