Author's note: What can I say? This chapter just kicked my butt.
I want to take this opportunity to thank all of you who are taking the time to read my story, and especially those of you who have put it on alerts and favorites lists -- these make my day. Also, Shadow Man is in someone's archive -- how cool. As always, thanks especially for the reviews! Love you all. Thanks for sticking with me as this thing has slowed down. I'm going to try to keep it going at a faster pace, but the story comes as it comes and sometimes it's harder to get right than other times.
Disclaimer: Time to remind everyone that I don't own X-men and this story is just written for pleasure, not profit. No infringement intended. Also, some of the events in this chapter, as with earlier chapters, correspond to scenes in X-men 3: The Last Stand. Therefore, some of the events and some dialog is taken directly from that movie.
Chapter Fourteen
The Eater had won. Though Jean tried every mental trick she knew, she could not break free of the prison the monster had locked her into with her alter ego. She suspected Phoenix might be able to do better, if she could be made to care. But, for now, all Jean could do was watch the narrow slice of the outside world The Eater allowed her.
The sun had just set behind the tortured bridge Magneto had raised in the air. The creaking sorrow of tortured metal rang hollowly. Less than an hour earlier the last of the army had been teleported across the country to the hills of San Francisco. A chubby girl of seventeen, a runaway with hard eyes and clenched jaw, had provided Jean's passage. As The Eater stepped their body through the distortion in space the girl made, Jean couldn't help wondering why Xavier hadn't found that child. Why had she instead been left on the street long enough to learn that distrustful stare, and lose so much hope that she chose to follow a madman?
Now, on the bridge, Jean wondered where the teleporter girl was positioned. Would she be fodder now that her chief purpose was done, or kept to the rear in case Magneto needed a quick escape? Dust rose, as the bridge smashed into Alcatraz's guard tower. At least Jean didn't suffer the sting of all that dirt in her nose nor the jarring pain in her joints from the impact. She was too insulated from their body's pain in her prison. The Eater bore the brunt.
The monster didn't care. Its mind swarmed with excitement anticipating a night of carnage. It let her see its dreams. Millennia of procreating and hiding among humans was not living to The Eater. That was preparation for a prophesized season of destruction. The Grand Dying -- The Eater's parent had come within a hair's breadth of causing the glorious event, and the one in Jean's body had hoped it would participate. But, both those dreams had failed. Now, The Eater's hope lay in its offspring. In her distant mind Jean heard it talking to them, telling them that they would be born tonight and live to see the end of all life.
Jean cringed at the dark promises. At least she could fathom Magneto's goals, misguided as they were. But, The Eater's joys were an evil so alien they were incomprehensible. It truly rejoiced in planning the cessation of all life.
The only way to stop it lay with Phoenix, and she still crouched on the floor, miserable over the memories of Logan killing the villagers. From outside, the first sounds of combat -- shouts and the stomping feet of Magneto's army -- rattled the walls of the cell.
Jean knelt next to her twin. "You can't let this destroy you. You can get us out of here. You can overpower The Eater if you try."
"I can't." She sounded small and lost. "I can't do anything. Every time I try to help I make things worse."
"That's not true."
"But it is." Phoenix turned her face up, and at last there was a spark of defiance in her eyes. "Every time. I stopped the professor from becoming an Eater. But you were still angry."
"You killed him." The problem with living wholly in one's mind was that thoughts came out all to easily as words.
"What was I supposed to do?"
Jean had no answer for that. How many ways were there to stop the monster? Maybe Phoenix was right and sacrificing the professor was necessary for a greater good.
"My whole life you and your professor told me to do nothing, stay hidden, that anything I do would be bad and dangerous. Every time I tried to do something, I was wrong. Do you remember how insecure you were feeling about your love life? I took over and made us so sexy, and you hated me for it."
Jean looked away. She had been jealous of the way Scott responded to Phoenix. It sounded foolish now, but then…
"Now, when I finally accept what you and the professor told me is true, when I know I can't even pick a man to love who isn't evil and cruel, all you want me to do is act."
None of their past troubles mattered now. "You're the only one who can stop this monster."
"What if I have to kill more people? What if I have to kill someone you love?" Real challenge flashed in Phoenix's eyes. "Will you hate me? Will you lock me away in here again and forget me?"
No, Jean wanted to protest. But was that true? She could promise never to lock Phoenix away again because they were already dead and doomed. If they were alive, if there were a way back to what she'd had before, Jean would want her life with Scott, unencumbered by Phoenix's fascination with Logan, or with Scott's interest in her twin. She would want Phoenix gone.
She thought about Phoenix's life, trapped as they both now were in this small mind-cell with only one window on the world. Phoenix had never been allowed to grow and learn. She'd never been given the chance because her powers were so dangerous. Like some princess in a fairytale she could only gaze out her window and hope for rescue. But, it wasn't a prince this Rapunzel needed. And in a flash of understanding, Jean knew -- Phoenix didn't need Logan. She needed her Jean to set her free.
If I had to choose between Scott and the other half of my soul, what would I keep? Jean embraced the question, the all-too-brief stab of pain it brought, and the only right answer.
"I'll never hate you again, no matter what."
-----
Scott's fingers squeezed hard against the back of Hank's seat without denting the stiff fabric. He forced his hands to relax a bit, but his stomach still knotted. He was always a little queasy before a mission. Only this time, the deep breathing that usually calmed him hadn't worked.
Ororo had the pilot seat. Logan was at copilot, just in front of Hank, doing a reasonable job with the readouts. Scott couldn't remember a time when he'd been in the jet and not taking up one of those two forward positions.
Behind him, in the passenger compartment, Bobby, Kitty, and Peter rode silently. Scott knew the kids were nervous about their first real combat. He wanted to tell them it was good to be afraid, that fear kept you sharp and bravado didn't win battles. Unfortunately, they wouldn't have heard his little speech.
His folded state still locked him away from his team. He couldn't encourage them. He couldn't lead them. That surrender of control might be what kept claws digging into his gut as they approached the battleground. Scott didn't like counting on other people to make the decisions.
Or, it could be simple regret keeping him tense. All those months he'd spend in morbid grief could have been used to teach them all. Now, there was no time and no choice. He had a lot to regret, no time to rectify. His mind flashed briefly to Rogue and the fact he still felt guilty for not searching harder for her. He told himself that was selfish. He needed her power or he wouldn't survive much longer, but that still didn't ring true as the motive behind his wish to find her. Unfortunately, he had no time to contemplate those thoughts either.
The jet cleared had cleared the Rockies a while back, and now the lights of San Francisco sped beneath them. Alcatraz Island lay just ahead. Hank leapt from his seat, momentarily blocking Scott's view of the scene.
"Going to stealth mode," Ororo announced. They circled the scene, giving Scott a chance to study the battlefield. Magneto's forces swarmed the narrow ground before the former prison's main entrance. Whatever weapons the guard troops had had, they'd been rendered ineffective. The soldiers were in full retreat before the horde. Scott scanned the area for Jean and caught a glimpse of her on the bridge behind Magneto. At least none of the dead soldiers were getting up. Apparently, The Eater was waiting for mutant casualties. It wanted power for its young.
"Set her down on the roof," Logan said. "Don't want to crush anyone from our side."
"All I see are Magneto's mutants. Where is this Eater Scott was telling us about?" Hank shifted into Scott's sight line again.
The Eater was Scott's concern, though he had no idea how he would kill it given that Alcatraz was clad in cement and it took life to destroy the monster.
"That's not our worry," Logan answered. "Scott will deal with The Eater. Our job is to stop Magneto. You did tell the president to warn the army we were coming, right?"
Hank nodded. "They are expecting us. No one should be shooting at our backs."
"Good." Logan's voice carried a rough growl under the words. It was clear he didn't like this mission much at all. "I don't need to be cured."
Scott didn't even want to think about the problem this cure presented. He was grateful to have his own power back. It was the only advantage he had against The Eater.
"And what about Jean?" That was Hank again. The jet settled onto the flat roof of the complex, nose turned too far from the battle for Scott to even try to see Jean in the midst of Magneto's army, but Hank's question struck him hard all the same.
"Logan will have to deal with her when the time comes." Ororo's voice had already taken on its cold battle-edge.
"If it comes to that," Logan countered.
Scott forced himself to listen to the debate. He'd avoided thinking too much about Jean since she spoke to him mentally through The Eater's young. Charles' death had been enough to shock him into a numb state at first. Then, concern for Rogue, for Bobby, for the whole team distracted him.
Now, he was going to see her again and had to face down the fact she was going to die. Logan might still deny the truth, but Scott could no longer make himself believe he would save her.
Jean would die with The Eater. He waited for his gut to cramp at the thought. The tension he already felt never intensified. He wished he could feel more. Some suffering seemed a proper accompaniment to the realization his love was dying. But he couldn't find more. Maybe he'd reached some critical juncture in grief, or maybe he'd just lived with the reality of Jean's death long enough for it to become tolerable. Whatever the reason, Scott could now stare at the truth without quaking.
And that was a good thing because he had to focus on killing the monster any way he could.
-----
"The Eater of Souls," Irene wailed.
Marie's world crystallized. She took in the alley where they stood, moonlight stark white on the dark, broken pavement. The paint-smeared brick wall with its iron door remained barely visible in comparison. The bus rumbled behind her like a patient dragon. It was all so clear, so obvious. Everything she'd experienced at the mansion with Scott had been real.
The only way The Eater of Souls could be the disaster Irene feared was if it was going to take over mutant souls. Scott told her The Eater of Souls took over Dr. Grey at the moment she died. And he said it wanted him to commit suicide, presumably so it could take him over too. If Irene was right, then everything Scott said made perfect sense. But, none of it was something her own mind would have invented. She wasn't a creative person. The logic of it all leap at her.
She had a purpose. She had the power to make a difference in the world. It was all true.
"It will devour us all and we'll destroy the world if we have powers. Marie, none of us can have powers."
"It's okay, lady," The orderly Marie thought of as a wall said. He kept his voice low and patient. "Everyone here is going to get a dose. They've got plenty inside."
He must have called on a handheld because another clinic worker appeared with a wheelchair for Irene. They eased her into it as best they could given her agitation.
Be happy, Irene, Marie thought as they wheeled the woman through the clinics back door. You get what you want. I have a different path. She had to get back to Westchester as fast as she could, find Scott, and do what she could about stopping The Eater of Souls.
"Come on, Sweetheart. Let's follow your friend." The bodybuilder orderly gave Marie's arm a tug. She was alone with the pair of orderlies and they were looking at her sternly.
"I'm not going," she said.
The man refused to release her arm. She tugged. He held on. "Doesn't work like that, Honey. You're here, you're getting the shot. Those are the orders."
-----
Once outside the jet, Ororo let her power stretch into the sky. When she touched the edges of her ability, she felt larger, stronger, more alive. That surge brought her no joy now. The last few days had left her feeling so powerless. She wanted to revel in the pleasure now. But, as she pushed off the roof, lingering confusion held her back.
What was she doing here? A large part of her agreed with Magneto's desire to destroy this abomination of a 'cure'. How had they become so separated from Charles' dream of unity that they actually fought other mutants to preserve a lab where they created such poison?
Haze hung thick around the battlefield below, cut only by the fuzzy glare from the surrounding floodlight towers. The taste of salt stung Ororo's tongue. Below that sharpness, she found the charred scents of burnt cloth and worse. The roar from the charging mutants rolled like surf over the concrete. Ororo reached high into the atmosphere, above the haze of salt water mist, for air that was clean and dry. Lightening crackled through her as she pulled down a true storm.
The reason for being here came clear to Ororo as the lightning played through her body. She couldn't do this to protect soldiers who cowered against the walls of the building. She certainly couldn't do it to protect the investments of a company that wanted to destroy them all, she told herself. No, she was doing this for a mutant boy who was held prisoner here, a boy Magneto would kill if he got the chance.
Ororo was here to save that child. That mission she embraced as thoroughly as she did her storm. She slammed the lightning into the ground in front of Magneto's army, making a place for her team to stand.
-----
Logan pulled the team into a line. He knew he had to keep his mind focused on the battle. He couldn't let himself be distracted by the fact that Jean was right up on the bridge or the fact he might have to kill her. Nor could he let the jumble of new, foreign memories she'd shoved into his brain at Magneto's camp overwhelm his thoughts. For once he couldn't be the loner. He was responsible for these kids now. For all his efforts, despite the fact Scott was still alive, he'd wound up with the leader's job. Damn it.
"Stay together, and hold this line," he shouted as he took his place. There was no time for strategy and damn little room to maneuver. This fight was going to take raw courage, and luck. A whole lot of luck given the odds. Logan had enough time to look up and down his troops, to see the looks of determination and fear on the younger faces, before the mob attacked.
He took out the first two opponents at once. A back swipe of his claws and the next fell. Combat came easily to him. He'd always thought that was instinct. Now, the chaos Jean had forced into his mind told him it was long decades of practice. He'd fought so many battles, he no longer had to think to kill.
Logan didn't let himself think about that fact too long. He noted that their line still held. The mass of Magneto's force threw themselves against Bobby's wall of ice, and against Peter's steel body. The boys held firm. Kitty managed to defend her bit of ground as well. Hank seemed to be everywhere at once. For a desk jockey, he fought pretty hard. Logan allowed himself to think they just might win this.
It was the other battle, the one with the monster possessing Jean that worried him. He didn't like having to trust Scott, alone and invisible, with so much. If he could just catch a glimpse, or a whiff of The Eater, he might have a clue how that struggle faired. Instinctively, he stretched out his senses even as he sliced down three more adversaries.
He swiped his claws backward wildly, striking at nothing before the sense of presence fully settled in his mind. A host of invisible combatants surrounded him. And then they vanished as quickly as they'd appeared. Guess Scott's doing his job after all.
In a momentary lull, Logan realized he'd fought such unseen creatures before.
-----
Crouched at the edge of the roof, Scott swept his gaze back toward Logan. A half-dozen of The Eater's limbs shredded under his optic blasts. The disembodied souls of those Logan had killed glanced around uncertainly, then shambled off to the West. If the dead felt Scott's blasts, they didn't care. It was enough for Scott that The Eater was vulnerable to his power.
Almost enough. Even concentration on the battle hadn't eased Scott's sense of dread. This wasn't mere battle jitters. It was a true, deep fear, something Scott had never experienced before. And something he couldn't dwell on now. He forced his thoughts to stay on the battle.
At least Logan kept his carnage close to one spot. Hank sprang from one edge of the battlefield to the other. Scott knew the diplomat hated such violence. The fact that Hank participated with such fury meant he also understood how important it was that Magneto lose his war in its first battle.
Scott watched Beast leap. Another neck snapped when he landed. As Hank bounded away, Scott held his gaze on the downed mutant. He watched the dead man's spirit rise up from its corpse and look around in a sort of dazed wonder.
Before the spirit could take a step, The Eater folded one of its egg-heavy limbs up from the gravel-strewn ground to attack. Scott focused on the monster. Though his blasts fanned out in a wide arc, only the center point of his vision had enough force to kill the limbs. A peripheral blow only shoved the monster back.
He scored a direct hit on the egg sack, exploding the whole mass into wet jelly. The dead spirit startled, then simply turned West like all the rest had done. Scott searched the area for a new target.
Ororo lifted herself into the air. Her posture and the crackle of power around her told Scott Ororo the teacher had been overtaken by The Goddess of Storms. In another moment she'd be raining lightning bolts in all directions. Scott wondered how he would manage to catch all the resulting corpses before The Eater could claim the souls.
A dark shape appeared at the edge of his vision. Scott spun, half expecting one of The Eater's limbs rising to attack him. That tattooed woman had been next to Magneto a moment before. Now, she stood on the roof. Her mouth twisted in a half-smile. She dove off.
Her boot collided with Scott. The blow didn't slow her, but pain blackened his vision. Worse, he felt himself going over the edge with her, head first and with too much momentum for a soft landing. He grabbed wildly with his other hand. Strangely, the face that flashed through his mind as he thought he might die wasn't Jean's.
Somehow, he managed to catch the rail. He felt his shoulder separate under the strain. Numbness followed the intense pain as his overloaded nerve endings shut down. He clenched his fist, willing the fingers to stay locked around the rail. His back slammed into the wall below. He was pretty sure he heard a rib break, maybe two. Probably better not to count at this point.
He forced himself to assess surroundings rather than his condition. The woman from the roof had tackled Ororo. They fought now on the ground below Scott's feet. He scanned the whole battlefield rapidly. No corpses seemed to be reviving. The Eater had yet to claim a prize.
But it would, soon, if he didn't get back into the fight. If one offspring survived, Scott's personal battle was lost. Jean's death would be irrelevant. Failure -- that was the source of Scott's persistent dread. He'd never felt so close to losing before. Not just losing Jean. Not just losing the battle. To losing … everything.
Which could not happen. It would not happen. He gritted his teeth. His fingers were slipping. He was going to fall, controlled or not. That made the choice easier. Hoping he'd land softly, Scott let go.
-----
Jean cradled Phoenix in her arms, trying to ignore the battle outside where her friends could be dying. Their needs continued to pull at her, but the tug grew weaker as she stroked Phoenix's hair. She couldn't recall feeling as whole as she did embracing her twin. She wanted to merge into one person, but couldn't quite move inside her other half. So, she just hugged Phoenix close.
The Eater would win out there anyway. Nothing could stop it now. And in a few minutes, or hours, nothing outside them would matter. Their body would be dead. Will we be able to join then, she wondered.
She should never have consented to Charles' plan to separate them. They should have been one person, one soul. Jean couldn't change the past any more than she could change what was happening in that distant battle. But she could prove to her other self that she meant was she'd said. She would never hate Phoenix again. In their last few minutes of life, she would get as close as she could to blending their souls.
Phoenix, however, refused to be coddled. She pulled out of Jean's embrace, then stood on her toes to look out their narrow window. The movement appeared so natural. The sight stabbed Jean with fresh regret. Her twin had obviously spent years tip-toed at that window and staring out at the world rather than living in it.
Phoenix's voice, however, sounded sure and strong. "They're both out there, aren't they? Logan and Scott."
"And the others," Jean agreed. The others couldn't matter now. There was no time for the outside world. She and her sister had so little life left. "They're all fighting Magneto."
"And the Eater."
"Maybe." It was she, Jean, who wanted the comfort of touch in these final moments. She loved the feeling of wholeness being close to Phoenix brought her. Now that her other self had moved away, Jean felt torn apart.
"Not maybe. They are, Jean. Feel the monster." Phoenix looked over her shoulder. Her eyes glittered with some emotion Jean couldn't quite place -- excitement perhaps. Whatever it was, Phoenix's former despair had lifted. "It's angry."
Jean got to her feet. She pressed a hand against the wall and tried to feel beyond their prison to the rest of their once-shared mind. The rage she received knocked her back to her knees. "Angry? It's enraged, blind with fury."
"Vulnerable," Phoenix said, and now Jean recognized the expression. Phoenix looked predatory. She felt a flicker of the emotion herself. They weren't so separate as she feared. Still linked, still merging. The thought sparked hope, but only for her and Phoenix. The rest of the world was still doomed. "It's never vulnerable. I tried and it only trapped me. It's playing with us. We can't kill it."
"Scott can, with Logan's help, and ours."
The sound of Scott's name still brought a little nudge of distress. She'd chosen Phoenix over him, but he still mattered to her. Jean climbed up to the window, as much to stand close to her sister than to see. She studied Phoenix's face rather than look out. Her sister looked strong, certain, as if she'd grown older since they'd touched.
Phoenix's gaze had fixed on Logan and Jean felt an odd bubble of jealousy form beneath her breastbone. "I thought you hated him. He was a monster. He murdered all those people in Viet Nam."
"I did, but you showed me the truth." Phoenix's green eyes, wide and earnest now, were so different from Jean's own -- a different window on the world and one she should have shared. "You showed me he had a reason. I looked at the memories again. Really looked."
"And?" What would I have seen if I'd looked through both our eyes rather than only my simple brown ones? Jean couldn't help but imagine the world would have been very different.
"You were right. He killed them because they were possessed by Eaters. He sensed the truth."
Jean leaned closer, interested at last. "In Viet Nam?"
"The beginning of this, I guess. I should have known our Eater lied." Phoenix turned back to the outside world. "Logan's a good man after all."
"He is." Getting Phoenix to see that had been the goal. Jean knew she should be glad to have succeeded. Instead, she grieved the moment of intense closeness she'd lost when Phoenix decided the battle and The Eater took priority.
"So's Scott."
"I know that." Jean didn't want to think about Scott, or Logan, or the rest who struggled out there. She wanted the world to be just she and Phoenix. But, the world never cooperated with those sorts of desires. It pulled you back from your own needs relentlessly. Neither she nor Phoenix could die in peace if they abandoned the others.
"He's out there, " Phoenix said. "And he's in trouble. Look!"
The command forced Jean's gaze to the window and with the sight of mist and battle came the rush of sensation. She smelled the acid smoke and soot of fires, the sharp tang of sea air. It was cold out there, colder than it had a right to be in summer. She wondered if that was Ororo's doing. Dear god, Ororo, Logan, the students she saw them clearly now, fighting against a throng. Bodies lay everywhere. Scott fell into the midst of that chaos.
Jean had to squint to see him. He appeared more as a shimmer than solid mass. Like a ghost, yet one that reacted to the world around him. He dodged a flailing fist, ducked a swinging club. He held his left arm oddly. Dislocated, her physician's mind told her. He stumbled a bit too, though if his right leg were fractured she doubted he'd be able to stand.
He turned his head and looked straight at her. His eyes were like suns but she couldn't feel the pressure of his blasts. Regardless, she could see into the plane where she'd folded him clearly enough.
"Not seeing," Phoenix corrected. "Sensing, through out telepathic power."
Jean sent her a questioning look. "You can do that?"
"I learned to do lots of things with our power. I had to. The Eater doesn't know we can see. It doesn't know I can talk to you anywhere, not just when we're here together."
Why that last was important, Jean didn't know. Phoenix tugged on her sleeve and pointed out the window, refocusing their attention on Scott. Jean watched as the Eater tried to take a soul. The instant its egg-heavy limb appeared in Scott's plane, he destroyed it with his blasts. From beyond their prison, Jean felt The Eater tremble with fury.
"Scott's killing them," Phoenix explained unnecessarily. "It hates him for that."
Jean remembered The Eater's gloating plan -- take all the dead mutants from this battle for its offspring, make a new army from them, one bent only on obliteration. But, it was losing. Scott was killing the young before they could be born. He was beating the monster.
She felt their body shift, move a little closer to the combat and look down at Scott. She understood. The Eater was coaxing him closer. "It wants to distract him."
Phoenix shook her head. "It wants to turn his power off, like it did by the lake. Watch. It knows if it can get him close enough it can make him powerless."
Jean's stomach clenched. They couldn't let The Eater succeed in that goal. "What can we do?"
"You have to warn Scott not to get too close."
"How?"
"Tell him I'll bring him The Eater," Phoenix whispered, very close to Jean's ear. "I'm sorry. I will miss you in the next life."
Then she lifted Jean off her feet. Jean had one glimpse of her sister enveloped in glittering power before she was sailing up and out of their body. The wholeness she's so briefly enjoyed shattered.
-----
"What do you mean it doesn't work that way?" Marie resisted being pulled through the door into the back of the clinic, but the orderly was too strong for her. "This cure is supposed to be voluntary."
"And you volunteered when you got on that bus." The man shoved Marie inside. They were in a back hallway. To the left, Marie saw the storage room where they kept coolers filled with the drug.
The orderly pulled her to the right, around a corner, toward a row of what must be treatment rooms. The place reeked of antiseptic to the point Marie wondered what stench they were masking.
"Get the doc," the man called to his companion. "Tell him we've got a rush job."
I can't let them do this. Marie scanned the room for an escape route. The narrow room held an examination table, nothing more. The walls were cinderblock painted a sick pink. It was back through the door she'd just entered, through at least two brutish orderlies and who knew how many others, or nothing. The bodybuilder still gripped her arm so hard she thought his fingers must be bruising her bones. There has to be something I can do to stop this.
And there was.
Marie stopped struggling. "Okay, I'll do it. Stop hurting me."
He didn't release his vice-grip. "Smart girl."
"I had a moment of panic. I'm okay now." She willed her body to sag a bit, make him think she'd lost will to argue. "Let me get my coat and gloves off, okay?"
No one had questioned her as to why she was wearing the heavy garments. They probably assumed she was hiding her mutation. She'd only have an instant once he noticed her skin was normally human.
The muscular orderly released his hold slowly. "Don't think about running, girlie. I'm faster than I look."
"Wouldn't think of it." I'm an X-man, and we don't run. She dropped her coat on the floor and caught the middle finger of her right glove in her teeth. One pull freed her hand.
She smashed her fist into the orderly's face, breaking his nose and engaging her power at the same time. We fight.
-----
That landing could have been worse. If I were dead or unconscious it wouldn't have hurt so badly. As encouraging thoughts went, Scott knew that one was a reach. He'd sustained serious injuries. When he stood, his right knee almost gave out. He must have twisted it. He couldn't feel his left arm, and every breath drove invisible spikes deeper into his chest. Still, he was on the ground, in one piece, and mobile.
Fortunately, he'd landed some distance away from Ororo's continuing fight. It was a bit mortifying to realize he'd probably be killed if the two small women rolled over him. A chain link fence and the remains of a crushed light tower obstructed his view of most of the combat.
A pair of Magneto's mutants ran toward him, fists flailing wildly. Scott had to duck out of their way even though it was clear they were more panicked than dangerous. When they passed, he looked up at the bridge where he'd last seen Jean standing. She was still there. That garish, un-Jean-like red costume was hard to miss despite the smoke and the dark. She was staring straight at him.
Her gaze hit him in the gut as if she'd had optic blasts of her own. The last time he'd seen her she'd been lying in the infirmary, pale and still with only her mind-voice to tell him she lived. It had been easy to convince himself she was gone. Now, she stood, too solid and real to be anything but alive. She took a few steps closer to the edge. Her steady gaze called to him. He wanted -- no needed -- to get to her, to touch her and prove or deny her existence.
The clang of twisting metal distracted him. Ororo had flung her opponent into the chain link fence. The fence buckled under the woman's body. He smelled ozone. Then lightning balled around Ororo's hands. She sent several arcs into the metal. The woman's body jerked, then stilled. Scott knew what to expect next.
The tattooed woman's spirit rose slowly out of her chest, right above her heart. The spirit shimmered slightly, then solidified into the exact image of her body. She looked down at her corpse in confusion. "I'm not supposed to be dead. He promised we'd win."
She meant Magneto. Scott couldn't keep the disgust out of his voice. "He lied, not for the first time."
She spun on her heel to face him. It was a combat move that made Scott instinctively crouch into defense. There was no need. She didn't attack, only stared at him with a mix of anger and frustration on her face. "It's not right."
"It never is."
The Eater chose that moment to strike. Scott sensed rather than saw two limbs shoot up from the pavement behind him to arch toward her. He got off a sloppy shot that sheered both stems below the egg sack. A second blast crushed the young into the cement.
The woman's spirit never moved. Instead she studied the oozing remains at her feet. Then, she knelt and tapped a severed fang with her finger. She couldn't pick it up, however. Apparently, her spirit didn't have enough substance.
The woman looked up at him. "I know what this does. I know what everything does. This would heal my body and bring me back to life."
He nodded. That's pretty much what the fang that stabbed him earlier had done.
"I'm dead." Her expression was all determination and demand. "I don't want to be dead."
Jean would have felt obligated to save her -- doctor's oath and all. Scott knew he wasn't bound by those ethics. He wanted to simply refuse to help her. She'd tried to kill Ororo. She'd nearly killed him. She'd joined Magneto's cause, for all he knew wholeheartedly and with full knowledge that he was a monster too. She deserved what had happened to her.
But, Scott couldn't be that cold a bastard. He found he couldn't stare the woman in the face and tell her she had to be dead whether she liked it or not. When her harsh expression turned to panic and she whispered, "Please?", he took a step closer.
The sounds of battle had grown quiet. As far as Scott could tell, Magneto's mutant army was retreating. If he did save this woman's life, how much harm could she do? The fang would leave her unconscious long enough for authorities to restrain her.
He reached down and picked up the fang. It was curved and black, as long as his palm. The sac containing its healing ichor was clearly full and intact in the hollow shaft still connected to the fang. Healing her would do no harm that he could see. And yet, it seemed wrong, out of the order of things, to revive the dead.
As if she were coming to understand that fact as well, her spirit backed slowly away from him. Her head ducked. Sorrow and loss flashed across her face. Then she turned West and started to walk away from her body. As she left, he watched her spirit lose its distinct shape, finally dissipating into a warm, amber light.
Scott let his gaze shift from the place where she had been to Magneto's fleeing army and then to the bridge. Jean stood there at the very edge -- but not one Jean. Two. Jean's spirit stood separate from her body.
Scott knew what that meant. The Eater remained. But, Jean was truly dead.
End note: Next chapter concludes Alcatraz, but not the story. We still have a way to go with this.