Note: As always, thanks for the comments and reviews. I love hearing from everyone. Here's another long chapter. The story, for me, is getting really exciting here with the first big action scenes. Hope you like them.
As a reminder: simple thoughts are always just italics, while telepathy is italics and underlined.
And, of course, I still don't own X-men. WHEN are they going to break down and just give it to me? (insane laughter) And, where a scene comes directly from the movie, some or all dialogue is quoted directly.
Chapter Eight
Marie paced her room, changing her mind about whether to return to Scott's room each time she reached the door. There was no reason to think Scott was in danger. He was no longer suicidal. She wouldn't return and find he'd blown his head off. He wasn't going to die in two hours from those cuts along his ribs. She circled back toward her bed.
But, Logan was always telling her to trust her instincts, and those instincts were screaming that something deadly lurked in Scott's room. She headed back toward the door.
Forty-five minutes, she noticed as she passed the clock. Scott would be justifiably irritated at her if she came back an hour early to wake him because she thought there was a proverbial monster in his closet. And yet, he'd told her they were fighting a real monster, the Eater of Souls. He'd be a lot angrier if she left him to face that alone. To do that would be to forget everything she'd been taught as an X-man. Team members didn't run out on each other like frightened children. Yet, the moment Scott gave her the chance to bolt from his room, she'd taken it.
This time, when she reached for the doorknob, she turned it. Earlier in the day she'd promised herself she was going to be tough. That was a joke. Her hand was shaking and she hadn't even left her own room yet.
She thought about what the other team members would do. Storm or Logan would be facing down the trouble already. She suspected Bobby would as well, or Peter.
Peter could help. Logan was gone. And asking Bobby to come with her would be a bit weird given the way her feelings for him, and for Scott, were bending in her mind. But, Peter was solid, practical, and simply a friend. There was no reason she shouldn't take reinforcements with her to face a monster, right?
She headed down the opposite direction from Scott's room, toward Peter's.
----
Scott stared at the limb protruding from his wall. Within each translucent egg he saw a tiny Eater twitch. The egg sack looked ready to burst.
His heart pounded and all exhaustion burned away in a wash of adrenaline. Had that thing been waiting for him the whole time he sat in this room mourning Jean? He had a vision of the snake-like limb hovering over him while, the pistol in his hands, he thought about the blissful oblivion of death.
He thought about Charles, weeping in his office that morning. If the long limbs of the Eater could stretch from Alkali Lake, and now from wherever Jean had gone, to Scott's room, one certainly could find its way to the professor. Jean possessed by the Eater was dangerous enough. Would anyone be safe if one of those monsters controlled Charles Xavier?
Scott's spine tingled in the now-familiar warning. The creature was becoming aware of him. He watched the heavy head of the stalk pivot toward him. Scott straightened slowly, letting the monstrous appendage twist out of view.
It reappeared. He got off the bed. This time when he moved, the limb didn't vanish. The Eater had folded into his space.
-----
Marie pounded on Peter's door. "Open up. I need your help."
"The professor said to stay inside." The door cracked enough for Peter to frame his face in the opening. "You should not be in the hallway."
That was Peter, always interpreting the rules as rigidly as possible. Maybe she should have gone to Bobby despite her awkward feelings about the situation. "Peter, are you a baby or an X-man? I need you to help me."
He stepped aside and gestured her into the room. "Explain what's happening."
Which was exactly what she didn't want to do. Peter hadn't been with the crowd who found her in the kitchen the other night, but he was sure to have heard about it. "I'm in kind of a hurry here."
"If you were in that big a hurry you wouldn't pound on my door. You'd just open it," he countered. Marie released a sigh and stepped into the room.
He backed away quickly as she approached, staring at her hands. Only at that moment did Marie realize she'd left her gloves in her room. It had felt so natural to go without them when she was with Scott. Now, she felt naked. She curled her arms around her own body. "Sorry, I forgot."
"You never forget."
"Yeah, well, like I said I'm in a hurry."
Peter maintained his distance even thought her hands were now safely tucked into her own armpits. His reaction reminded her what her reality really was -- people, even friends, were afraid to touch her for good reason. Peter had been a vague and shadowed presence in her mind since he touched her during the Danger Room session last week. Everyone she touched was there.
Everyone but Scott. For all the touching they'd done today, she carried no part of him inside her. The fact made him seem less real, more and more her fantasy lover. And fantasies were never real.
"Where are we going?" Peter asked, and Marie realized she'd been staring off into the corner.
"Sco -- Cyclops' room, one floor up. I think he's in danger."
----
The Eater's tentacle shot forward. Scott barely dodged the attack. That thing was fast.
A single egg dropped like a tear, landing on the floor where Scott had been an instant earlier. The second the egg touched the wooden floor, it cracked. A wiggling Eater, no larger than Scott's little finger, uncurled. It shriveled into a dried husk.
So, it runs into something other than me, the egg dies. Maybe he could use that. The thing swung at him again, like a fist. This time, he caught the snaky tentacle right behind the head. He jammed the egg sack down into the top of the nightstand.
The Eater's limb phased through the wood almost as gracefully as Kitty Pryde walked through walls. His hand didn't. Scott released his hold before his fist slammed painfully into the wood. That wasn't going to work.
The limb had vanished, but Scott had no doubt it would be back. He took the opportunity to squeeze past the partially open door into the hallway. The Eater had could follow him now. He knew it would find its way through the door as well.
What he needed was a plan of attack. He never wished so acutely for his optic blasts as he did right now.
The first objective had to be to get the thing away from his room. Rogue would be returning. He didn't want to think about an Eater getting into her. The second objective was to keep from being possessed himself. He'd like to kill the limb, if he could. But, that was going to be hard without weapons.
The Eater came at him up through the floor this time. If it hadn't had to orient itself, the fight might have ended there. As it was, the thing paused when it reappeared. He had time to deliver a solid kick to the twisting limb as it lunged. Another egg dropped to the floor and died.
Scott backed down the hall. He didn't think he could count on that sort of luck holding.
-----
Float books. Levitate the table. Boil the drinking water in the cooler.
Jean expended as much telekinesis as she could on useless tasks. With every effort she felt the Eater grow more angry. It knew she inhabited the same body, but had no idea what she was or how she could use its power.
Because it's not yours, you bastard. The power, the body, the mind are all rightly mine. Except that wasn't strictly true. Even before the Eater, she'd shared all three with Phoenix.
It was Phoenix she hoped to rouse with all this telekinetic chaos. But, Phoenix, who she had hated, who had become her sister at the moment of death, and who was now her only chance to defeat a monster, remained oblivious to Jean's prodding. She kept trying.
Because Phoenix was not gone as Jean had told Scott. She'd woken, like some fairytale heroine, when Logan touched them in the infirmary. Sleeping Beauty had never been all passion and seduction, however. Jean had been powerless to do more than ride the desire that engulfed their shared body. She still mourned what she'd done to Scott, her own love, in the misguided effort to save him and Phoenix's eager lust had been hard to take. But, she'd rejoiced in the possibility of an ally in the fight against the Eater of Souls.
Rattle the windows. Shake the chair. Feel the power I'm stealing, Phoenix. Pay attention to me.
Only the Eater protested her efforts. It had passed beyond anger now. Fury and a longing for revenge washed over her. Jean realized it was trying to do something that required deep concentration and focus and she was thwarting its efforts. She turned her attention to the monster.
Its consciousness flowed along one of its long limbs, warping through space in a way that made Jean's head ache as she followed. At the end of that journey, she found herself staring out a hundred sets of compound eyes. For an instant the broken pieces refused to form an image. But then, the vision condensed.
Mocking, hunger, the need to show her its victory The Eater wanted her to watch.
She was in the hallway outside her bedroom at the mansion. The scene shifted wildly, as if she were running. No, striking, like a snake. The target was Scott.
Jean cringed. The oily, eager minds of the baby Eaters she inhabited made her want to retch. In the now distant study of her parents' house, she lost control of several books she'd been levitating.
Scott dodged the attack smoothly, but why wasn't he countering? Defend and counter-attack -- he'd drilled that into all of them during training.
He doesn't know how to kill it, Jean realized. But, I do.
Hatred, gloating. Power. The Eater pulled telekinetic power from Phoenix to hurl at Scott.
-----
The hallway erupted in chaos. Scott barely avoided a huge painting as it sliced toward him, metal frame pointed at his throat. Bulbs burst in the lamps lining the walls. Scott knew he had to get out of the narrow confined of the hallway. Everything -- vases, tables, benches -- would soon be projectiles and with his limited mass even a decorative plate could be lethal. Worse, he couldn't watch all the flying debris and the Eater as well.
It came at him out of the wall, almost behind him. He grabbed the stalk again, pushed it toward the floor. The wood couldn't hurt it. He knew that now. But, phasing through objects did seem to disorient the monster for a few moments.
Plates shattered as they fell. At least the Eater couldn't control its telekinesis and phase at the same time. Scott got a instant's reprieve to think.
The fact the Eater could use Jean's power while folded gave it a serious advantage over Scott. He had to find his own weapon fast. But what?
He didn't want to be trapped in a room, so he'd have to take the stairs.
-----
Whatever you do, I can do, Jean thought. She pulled power, telepathy this time, for her own use. Through the unwilling minds of the unborn Eaters she called, Scott.
-----
Scott!
Jean's telepathic voice emerging from that hideous cluster of eggs almost cost Scott his footing on the stairs. He caught the railing to steady himself and the Eater almost connected with his chest. He stumbled down three steps, heart racing and lungs aching from exertion. Two more floor down and he'd reach the ground.
"Jean? Are you here? How?" He refused to believe she'd been taken over by the monster.
I'm here. It's me. Scott glimpsed a room with pale, striped walls and rows of bookcases. He shook his head. He couldn't look through Jean's eyes now. He had to keep focused on the fight.
Life repels the Eater, Scott. Kill it with life.
"What does that mean?"
Scott stood at the head of the grand stair leading into the entry hall, momentarily disoriented. He wasn't sure how he'd cleared the last few steps to get here. He scanned the space, searching for the Eater. It had vanished.
Slowly, he eased his way down to the landing. There, the railing curved into a half circle and a tall potted palm hid part of a stained glass window. The slate floor of the entry hall was about a twelve-foot drop below. His breath sounded harsh in his ears and his ribs burned. He touched his side. The shirt was wet and warm. He was bleeding again. He didn't have a lot of fight left.
"Jean? What do you mean kill with life?"
Outside, Scott. Outside.
What was outside? Life -- trees, grass, birds. The Eater entered the soul at death. There were holes in that argument. Scott knew he wasn't dead so how --
The limb burst out of the landing practically between his feet. He fell back against the railing, catching the thing in both hands to hold it away from his face. He saw the globe of one egg begin to swell, inches from his nose.
Scott jammed the egg sack into the potted palm. Several eggs shattered against one of the thin trunks. The living plant destroyed them. He squeezed the limb tighter, intent on grinding the whole head against the plant.
Just above his hands, twin fangs broke through the flesh of the stalk. They jabbed down and Scott had to release the thing to keep from being stabbed.
The Eater reared back, shaking free of the palm. Then it swiveled toward him again. A quarter of the egg sack oozed jelly and dead young. But, the fangs, now sprouting from fingerlike, twitching branches, clacked menacingly against each other as the whole limb arched upward.
The Eater still blocked his path down the stairs. The railing was at his back. And he didn't dare try to grab the thing again with those fangs darting about. Trapped. The only choice remaining was to dive over the railing to the floor.
-----
Jean felt a familiar and profoundly unwelcome pull that cost her contact with the baby Eaters. Her consciousness slammed back into her body with enough force to daze her. And Charles, just entering her parents' house, hooked a mental finger into her mind.
Not now. Please not now. Scott needs me. But, she'd already lost contact with him. In its place she felt the Eater's growing sense of triumph. Please Charles, not now.
She sensed Charles approaching. His hold strengthened as he drew closer until his mind seemed to surround the whole house. The only good thing in that was that the Eater noticed. Now it would have to divide its attention between Charles and Scott. Perhaps that would give Scott a small advantage in his fight.
The Eater grabbed control of their body as Charles entered the room with Magneto. Jean lost all connection to her telekinesis. The tables and books she'd been floated thumped to the floor. She had to fight even the desire to smile when the Eater wanted the expression. She couldn't see the new egg stalk, but she sensed as on thickened and curled around behind Charles' chair. A hundred hungry thoughts swarmed her skull, Covet, take. "I knew you'd come."
Charles had no idea what spoke to him. His tone was reassuring, as if he confronted an old, dear friend. "Of course. I've come to bring you home."
"I have no home." The Eater mimicked her voice perfectly. How was Charles to ever realize the danger he was in?
"Yes you do. You have a home and a family." Charles offered comfort mentally as well. He did want to help, but Jean knew she was beyond his aid She hoped he wold not be beyond hers. Phoenix, Jean called, desperate now. Wake up. Help me fight it.
The full force of the Eater's mind turned on Jean. Its outrage rolled through her. He understood its rage at the unfairness of their unnatural life. It was supposed to be the chosen child, possessor of the greatest power ever seen on Earth. And yet it had so little time to relish omnipotence.
Because, they were all dead, she, Phoenix, and the Eater. Had it taken her in any sort of normal death, they would be alive. It was the life cycle of the Eater to heal the dying body as it absorbed the dying soul. Her monster had healed the initial crush of the water that wrecked Jean's body. But months entombed, without enough air, or food, kills as surely as tons of water. And the infant Eater had no way to heal that deprivation.
Only the sheer strength of their mutation allowed them to continue moving, only illusion kept their true state a secret. If she looked inside, Jean saw what her true form was now -- a gray, dead thing with rot-black eyes. She couldn't bear that vision for long.
You fight to save them? The Eater struggled to communicate more than violent, emotion. Telepathy was still a foreign thing for it. Along with the words, she received its fear of failure, its fury at having so little time in their body. Fifty years of power should have been its right. Instead, it struggled to birth its young before their flesh rots around it. You should fight with me instead.
Why would I ever do that?
The library, Charles, Magneto, all vanished. Instead she stood in the old room she'd shared with Scott. The scene had the texture of memory. The detail said it was recent. Scott stood in the center of the room, wearing only his jeans. He looked too thin, too rough, she thought, as he had that day on the beach at Alkali Lake. He needed to take better care of himself.
Yet his body was still beautiful. He still stirred her as he always had. She remembered the scent of him, the sound of his breathing in her ear as they slept curled close. Why show her this? The sight of him only strengthened her resolve to fight.
He's not alone, the Eater teased.
She saw Rogue then. Strange that the young woman should be with Scott in their room. They didn't even know each other well. Did they? Jean watched as the girl stepped closer. Scott rested a hand, gently against her face.
Young, alive, soft and lovely, the Eater taunted. Not like we are now. It forced the hideous image of their dead flesh into her mind briefly. You'll only keep him if he becomes us. And the monster was right. Jean saw Rogue step into Scott's embrace, his hands come up to rest on her shoulders. A clammy fist grabbed her stomach and twisted. She was dead. She shouldn't have to watch him move on from loving her.
Help us take him, it coaxed, even as it shifted her from memory to a view of Scott trapped on the landing of the grand staircase. He'll still belong to us.
----
Scott vaulted over the railing. He forced his body to relax as he fell. Lack of mass was finally a good thing. It meant he couldn't strike the floor with enough force to break bones. He landed easily, on the balls of his feet. Above, he saw the Eater's stalk waving wildly, searching for him. He sprinted for the outside, for the green world where everything he touched might be a weapon against the Eater.
-----
No! Jean rejected the monster. The betrayal hurt. But, no one, least of all Scott who'd suffered for her and tried to save her, deserved the hell of an Eater's possession.
"You want to control me?" The feel of her own lips moving pulled Jean back to her parents' house. While the Eater had been tempting her to betray Scott, it had continued working on Charles.
"No," Charles answered quickly, though Magneto interrupted. Jean barely heard whatever Lensherr was babbling about. The Eater was wholly focused on Charles. Magneto might as well have been a mosquito in the room for all the interest it had in the man.
Why? Erik Lensherr was a powerful mutant, nearly as strong as Phoenix. Why didn't the Eater want to take him as well?
The Eater was so intent on Charles it forgot to guard its thoughts from Jean. The answer to her question came as a passing distaste, Old, used up, no time left. It wanted Scott because he was young, strong, and powerful. Like hers, Magneto's body would die too quickly to provide a satisfactory host for the Eater's young.
Yet, Charles was almost the same age. Need him, came the Eater's flickering thought. Grand plan.
"I want to help you," Charles pleaded. Jean felt his thoughts, prying gently but insistently into hers. He did want to help, but he was so wrong.
"Help me?" She fought the words, and failed to stop them. "What's wrong with me?"
Oh God, Charles, Jean pleaded. Don't play its game. The Eater was coaxing Charles into this word play as it gathered Phoenix's power carefully. It had to be careful or risk waking her by drawing so much. Why did it need so much?
She glimpsed its plans. Shatter glass, make knives, slice his soul free of life's armor. Devour.
It had to kill Charles before its young could take him. She flashed to Scott -- how could it take him without death? The answer bubbled from the Eater's dark mind. She'd folded Scott to the edge of death's realm, where souls traversed from life to the beyond. There life was weak. Folded, Scott's soul sat exposed. Available.
The image of Scott cradling Rogue in his arms pushed into Jean's mind again. She didn't want to look. This was worse than knowing he desired Phoenix. For all Jean's protests, she'd always known Phoenix was just the other side of herself. This was another, an alive and whole other. And it hurt so badly to watch them share that moment of tenderness.
A lamp shot across the room, shattering on the wall. The Eater had created its first knives. Jean struggled to free herself from the painful vision. Deeper, in the tomb where Charles locked her, Phoenix stirred.
Trying to reach Phoenix, however, was like pushing through heavy clay. The Eater fought ever advance. It ravaged her emotions directly. Loneliness emptied her will. Anger burned. It reached Phoenix first and filled her with memories of every time Charles had suppressed her. Jean refused to surrender. She pressed her own thoughts forward. Please, remember we're more than loss and pain. We're also --
Logan, Phoenix called, not to Jean, but to the man she'd just sensed outside the house. Of course. Jean had missed the obvious.
Love, she reminded Phoenix. If you give in to the Eater, anyone you love will die. She had to remember the same herself -- but when she thought about Scott all she saw was that moment with Rogue, and the anger crippled her. Don't think about him. Think about Charles and preventing what the Eater plans for him.
Love, Jean. I remember love. Jean felt Phoenix drawing closer. Her thoughts were surprisingly soft, comforting. Jean wanted to fall into that mental embrace.
Charles pushed between them. Don't, Jean. Leave her buried.
God damn you, I'm trying to save you. Why couldn't he listen? Even Scott, who had not one shred of mental powers, saw the monster. Jean wanted to slap Charles, to crush him. No, that had to be the Eater's thought. This was too dangerous. "Stay out of my head."
Her mouth spoke the words. She had control of their body for the first time since -- maybe since death. The Eater had pulled away. All its attention had suddenly focused on the distant fight with Scott.
Jean grabbed as much power as she could. She had no idea how long the Eater would be occupied with its other battle, nor what that outcome would be. She couldn't think about that. She had one chance and that was here, with Charles, with Phoenix.
Doors slammed, furniture rose. Outside, the gate rattled closed. Her power, Phoenix's too, hit her like a wave and Jean thought she would be crushed a second time. But, she caught hold, kept hold. Phoenix, wake up now!
No! Charles wedged his will between them. "Look at me, Jean. I can help you. Look at me."
"Get out of my head." Phoenix was awake but Jean couldn't join with her. She pushed Charles' wheelchair back three feet, but could not budge his mind.
-----
Outside on the terrace that fronted the mansion, Scott had to fight the wind as he ran. He knew the breeze must be very light since he could keep his feet under him. He had to make it to the yard, still a long way down from the raised terrace before he'd find enough life to crush the Eater. He reached the balustrade, vaulted it without looking down, and felt his body drift.
The breeze carried him some distance from the house, depositing him as lightly on the grass as it would a dried leaf. He rested his hands on his knees and just breathed for a moment. Safe. In the middle of this living carpet of green, the Eater couldn't possibly reach him.
All he wanted to do was lie down and rest. The pain in his side, the exhaustion in his legs urged him to do just that. The flood of adrenaline was washing out of him, taking all his energy with it. He stared at the mansion. Its craggy turrets and imposing walls had always made him feel secure. They meant home. Now, he saw all that stone and cement as a harbor for the Eater.
No one inside was safe. The Eater's young still hungered to be born. It would choose a substitute host for its grotesque infants. Rogue, or Ororo, or one of the younger children. If he saved himself, he sacrificed them.
That thought alone made Scott straighten and start back toward the mansion. The grass stabbed his bare feet as he walked. He couldn't kill the whole monster. But, he could destroy the branch that had remained at the school. But first he had to coax it into another attack.
A semi-circular reflecting pool stood in front of the mansion and a cement wall surrounded it. The lawn rolled right up to that dead ring of concrete. Several low shrubs softened the harsh lines as well. This was as good a battlefield as he was likely to find. Scott put his hands on the wall. He leaned forward, pretending to stare into the glittering water.
He would have to grab it when it came at him, close behind the egg sack so his hand would be farther from where those fangs protruded. But, as long as the eggs died, he'd risk being stung with whatever poison those fangs might carry. Surviving this was only the secondary goal. Destroying the immediate threat to the school had to take precedence.
He stilled his mind. If the thing was using Jean's telepathy, he wanted it to sense only calm from him. I'm safe. I'm no longer in danger. It's gone. He made it a mantra in his head to fool the monster into thinking he was neither wary nor ready.
He didn't have to wait long. It came, not out of the wall as he'd expected, but from the center of the pool. Apparently whatever small life dwelt in the water wasn't sufficient to injure it. The head wavered side to side to sight him, then shot forward.
Scott caught hold. Several eggs released at once. The head shook, trying to scatter them onto him. The globes floated, wind-borne, rather than falling to the deadly grass.
Scott tugged the stalk away from the floating eggs. He pulled as hard as he could, trying to stretch the limb down to the grass. But, thin as it was, it was strong. It fought him. And the branches supporting those fangs elongated. The fangs stabbed. One missed.
He yelled, clenched with both fists, and wrenched the monster forward. It had to stretch or snap. It stretched. He beat the egg sack into the ground.
The globes ground to jelly. Each tiny Eater burst as it escaped its egg. The stalk itself began to jerk and twitch in its death throes. Until it was over, Scott didn't feel the pain. But, when the limb finally stilled he looked down and saw the broken fang sticking out of his forearm.
-----
"You must trust me. You're a danger to everyone and yourself. But, I can help you."
If it had just been the words, Jean could have ignored Charles and focused her whole will on connecting with Phoenix. They might only have moments while the Eater was distracted. Precious, precious moments. But, Charles' thoughts grappled with her as well. He showed her every embarrassment, every impulsive and reckless choice Phoenix ever made.
She couldn't fight him. He knew every weakness to hammer. Worse, she felt his love through all of it. Charles truly thought he was saving her when he locked Phoenix away. He thought the only other choice would have been to kill her, and that he couldn't do.
Don't listen. Touch Phoenix. Together you can win. She reached for her alter ego. Phoenix wasn't focused on her, though. Her attention was outside in the street. With Logan.
Jean felt the furniture bobbing against the walls, tasted the steam from the boiling kettle on the stove, smelled the salt of tears on her own cheeks, and heard Magneto's voice buzzing in her ears. From very far away, the Eater screamed in pain. And then it was returning, a storm rushing toward them all.
When Charles spoke again, he was like a magnet drawing all her hyperawareness to him. "Look what happened to Scott. You killed the man you love because you couldn't control your power."
"No!" Her voice broke on the cry. She was too late. "Stop it!" She didn't know, as the Eater ripped control of their body from her, if she screamed that final plea at Charles, or Phoenix.
It was Phoenix who heard.
The Eater shattered the windows behind them. More glass weapons for its slaughter. With a dismissive thought, it sent Magneto flying through the French doors to land against the cabinets in the kitchen. Inwardly, Jean sobbed, but the tears no longer reached her eyes.
Scott, are you safe? She'd no doubt the Eater would be gloating if it had taken him. She took as some small hope the fact it was angry instead of triumphant. This battle for Charles was lost, however, unless Phoenix acted. And Phoenix's attention wavered.
Logan was losing a punishing fight with one of Magneto's men. And Phoenix couldn't decide whether to enter that battle, or this one.
"Jean. Let me in."
She would have let Charles take control. But, the Eater had command of their body and their powers. Cut completely off from even the ability to rattle books, Jean only could watch the struggle taking place before her.
The Eater gathered its weapons. Shards of sharp glass for knives and the broken legs of a table as spears. The weapons spun slowly, positioning for attack. In a moment, Charles would be dead and there was nothing Jean could do to stop it.
She could sense everything the Eater did, however, so she knew when it told the trailing stalk behind Charles to ripen, felt energy flood along that limb to wake the young. A set of venomous fangs grew beneath the egg sack in preparation for the second stage of possession.
Charles, please listen to me. Forget what you think is happening and see what I see. She couldn't project those thoughts telepathically, only think them as hard as she could and hope he would hear. And perhaps he did because his expression changed slightly.
The Eater stood their body up. It lifted Charles as well, positioning him as it wanted. Jean cringed inwardly. She didn't want to watch.
In that moment, Phoenix chose. Her scream echoed through their shared skull. She claimed the power she wanted. The Eater's protest was no more than an annoyance to her. She swatted it back as if it were a gnat.
And the whole house ripped away from its foundation. Furniture slammed into the ceiling. In the other room, the combatants were pinned as well. Phoenix was saving Logan. But, she had not forgotten Charles. She grabbed hold of the floating weapons as well.
Phoenix's attention focused on Jean. He is dangerous? If the creature takes him everyone dies?
Jean was afraid to so much as twitch mentally. Phoenix's assessment was true. Charles under the control of an Eater could be death to the whole world. But, how would Phoenix interpret a positive answer? Charles had locked her away for years because it was for the good of all. That was the choice she'd been taught.
Charles' clothing began to disintegrate. All around them, the house was spinning, rising, shaking. Jean could only shout, No. Please don't.
She might as well have screamed into a hurricane. The Eater recovered from Phoenix's surprise attack. It tried to steal back control.
The pocket doors in the side wall slide open. Jean saw Logan, plastered tight against the ceiling, trying to pull himself into the room. His appearance distracted Phoenix just enough for the Eater to gain a foothold in their power.
Everything in the room froze. Whether it was Phoenix or the Eater, Jean could no longer tell. She did know they'd lost all ability to hold the illusion of life. Her body felt so cold, so rigid, so very very dead.
Charles looked at her. "Don't let it control you."
Did he see the monster at last, or still see Phoenix as the threat? Did he speak to Jean, or to the alter ego he'd so long vilified?
Whatever Charles intent, the Eater's was clear. The eggs were ready. They sat, invisible, right behind Charles. It intended to win this fight.
Charles' body shredded before her eyes. Not even dust remained.
-----
Scott pulled the fang out of his flesh and threw it down. The wound was deep, round, and oozed a brownish ichor that could not be good news. He staggered a little. The sunlight grew too hot, the air hard to breathe.
"Just a moment to sit," he muttered, easing himself down to the ground. If he just rested a bit, he would find the will to drag himself back up to his room where he could wait for Rogue. She'd unfold him. This time, he wouldn't argue when she insisted he go to the infirmary.
But, rest first. He had to rest first.
The fire that had been smoldering at the back of his skull since Jean locked away his powers ignited. He felt the heat rush through his brain, straight out his eyes. He barely squeezed his lids closed in time. His power was back.
Scott imagined he'd be happy about that, when he had the stamina.
-----
Phoenix! Jean called. The Eater was dazed after the explosion of power that destroyed Charles. For this moment, at least, she and her sister were free.
I am here, came a weak, fading reply.
What have you done?
No body. No life to take over. Saved the world. It's the choice he would have made.
And then Phoenix sank into oblivion again, leaving Jean alone with their waking monster.