Author's Note: See, I told you I was back to my old updating schedule. Be forewarned, this chapter goes a little out there. I'm closing quickly on the conclusion to this story, so I encourage you to keep with me until the end. Who knows, it might be a lot more fun than either of us expect. As you probably know, I like (descriptive) reviews.

Later that night, location unknown.

The rhythmic sound of water dripping from the ceiling into a shallow puddle on the floor began to echo inside Scott's mind as he slowly roused from a light slumber. Other senses began returning to him, but first he always felt his surroundings. He was not in his bed, but lying face down on rusted metal in an area that smelled like rot and decay. "Jean?" he called out, but he heard only his own voice echoing back. "Anyone?" he called out louder, but with similar results. He rose slowly to his feet, keeping his eyes closed, and tried to feel his surroundings further. First he found one wall, then another, and then two more. He was in come kind of cell. All options exhausted, he finally risked opening his eyes. No beams shot out of them, and he was thankful for that. He was indeed in a dank, rusted cell with a leak in the ceiling.

The only times that Scott ever sees the world without a red lens are in Jean's dreams. Since the last thing he remembered was finding her asleep in their chambers and laying next to her, he concluded that he was inside one right now. But he'd never been in a place like this before. This chamber was a very poor place to wake in. It had no visible exit, apparently no ventilation, and it offended every one of Scott's senses. He pressed against a wall, but it stood as firm as iron. He put his ear to it and rapped a finger against it. It sounded thick, much thicker than he could physically overcome. Nonetheless, he kicked it with all his might. It stood unmoved, undamaged. Scott leaned against the wall and sank to the floor.

Time passed. Except that it really didn't. Professor Xavier gives all the X-Men lectures on the psychic realm. Scott was a good student and knew the basics: time is an illusion, the laws of physics are subject to change, and you don't get to leave on your own. Scott was worried about being trapped in that iron cube forever. Several question crossed his mind. Is there any possibility of finding a way out of here? Is Jean having a nightmare? Has Phoenix trapped him?

His mind pondered all these questions for a good while; exactly how long he couldn't tell. That's when he decided to try his powers. The absence of red beams blasting from his face was not evidence that they were gone from him entirely. He stared at a wall and focused. His vision began to blur, and all the colors slowly washed red. Two beams hit the wall, smashing the rust away and heating the iron beneath. Scott pushed a little harder and wall exploded outward. Satisfied, he relaxed and looked out of his cage.

A long, narrow hallway stretched to his left and to his right. The same plain rusted walls were all he could see, with the exception of a grated floor and a long stretch of sullied still water beneath it. "JEAN!" he called out as loudly as possible. Echoes returned to him, but he also heard something else. It sounded like Jean calling back to him, from a long way away. He called out again, making sure he wasn't imagining her voice.

Scott…

Spurred by a sense of urgency that always brought the best out of him, he ran toward the sound. Focusing on his speed, Scott ran faster than seemed reasonable for a mere man in peak physical condition. He kept that pace for much longer than he expected, ignoring the fact that nothing about the scenery changed. His body would have tired if he had let it; he had been running faster than an Olympic sprinter. Jean needed him, and he knew better than to believe in fatigue in a place like this. But for some reason he knew he wouldn't reach Jean by just running. He had to visualize his goal; to imagine it into existence. He may not be a psychic power in reality, but here all things were possible. With a clarity he had never before experienced, his footsteps halted, his eyes closed, and his imagination took over. He painted a picture in his mind.

The rusted walls came to an end at a hatch. Beyond the hatch he heard Jean calling out for him. "Scott!"

Opening his eyes, he saw the same picture he had just created. Not even bothering to try opening the hatch, he blasted it off of its hinges. The room he walked into was nothing like the dank hallway he just emerged from. The walls were covered in images: one for each wall, one on the floor, and another on the ceiling. In awe, he circled about and saw that the hole he just entered from was gone. Upon closer inspection, he saw that the images were in fact memories; he recognized the moment that Jean gave him a gift box with two red lenses in it.

"Scott!"

In the center of the room Jean lay strapped to a sinister looking dentist's chair. Wires ran from a device behind the chair to electrodes on her head. Her eyes were pried open. The chair faced a wall that played out a scene he didn't recognize. She seemed to be flying around in some kind of forest. Turning back to Jean, he tried to run to her, but stopped in his tracks when he heard a growl coming from above him. Looking to the ceiling, he saw the Wolverine jump out of the image of the forest and kick him in the chest. Scott fell to the floor and looked up, barely able to breathe.

"Stay back bub. There's gonna be hell to pay if you take her out of that chair."

"I'm," Scott tried to speak, "not afraid… of you."

"I'll tear you apart if you try to stop this. Soon she'll be Phoenix and then she'll be mine."

"Of course you'd be on Phoenix's side," Scott said as he rose to his feet, regaining his composure. Wolverine crouched, sheathing his claws and baring his teeth. Thin red lights shone from each of Scott's pupils to the center of Logan's chest. A pair of thick blasts smashed into Logan, knocking him backwards. He flipped up onto his feet and screamed, charging Scott like an animal. Scott felt a rush of power burn through his eyes and turn his vision red. He screamed until it stopped. Logan was on the floor, smoking from his injuries. He didn't get up. Standing triumphantly, Scott ran up to Jean.

"Scott, you're here," she gasped. "You saved me from him. Is he dead?"

Scott managed to free one of Jean's hands. He heard a sizzle and smelled burned flesh. "Maybe."

"I'm glad you did it Scott," Jean said. Scott looked at her in disbelief, pausing his efforts to free her. Jean would never be happy if he killed somebody. Was this all a trick? "What are you doing? Get me out of here!"

"You're … not Jean."

"Scott, it's me! Please Scott, you must let me out of here," she pleaded, clearly distressed.

He stood there, trying to be callous. He knew it wasn't her in that chair, but his heart wrenched at the image of Jean begging to be freed from torment. In her eyes, he saw a piece of Jean he couldn't explain. Beneath all that fury and bitterness there must have been a tangible piece of Jean in there. It hurt him all the more to think that caging Phoenix actually hurt the woman he loved. Nevertheless, he grabbed her free hand and morosely fastened the strap that held it to the chair.

A shrill scream pierced Scott's ear. Pain and agony bellowed out of Phoenix; her eyes burned with rage. Pupils smoldering, she stared at Scott and fiercely told him, "Let me out of here or I'll never let you go."

"Jean, I'm sorry."

"I'm not Jean, I'M PHOENIX! LET ME OUT OR I'LL KILL YOU AND YOUR PRECIOUS JEAN."

She focused her rage at Scott, activating every unpleasant sensation in his mind. He felt his skin freeze and his innards boil. Pain shot through him as if he'd been stabbed by a thousand electrified daggers. He shook with fear and panic, then grief and anguish. Each second was a lifetime in hell; it was so horrific he couldn't even scream. For a few moments he couldn't even tell that it had stopped. Once the aftershocks went through his psyche, he stood up. He had no idea why he was still conscious after pain like that. Emboldened by his newfound resilience, he firmly stood again. "I'm not letting you out."

Bright white light flooded from her eyes. A desperate scream left her mouth as Scott shielded his eyes from the flash. Everything went white as the scream slowly faded. Scott opened his eyes again to see all the scenery gone, replaced with a void of light. Jean stood before him now. The fire had left her eyes, and a smile had graced her face. Standing on nothingness and surrounded by pure white, he watched Jean graciously float toward him. She now wore a long translucent robe over what appeared to be a translucent body. "I hope you learned a little something about Phoenix," she spoke.

"Jean?"

"No," she paused. "And yes. I'm not the Jean you know. The Jean you know is a mental construct, a pattern of behavior forming a complex personality. You know her as kind, intelligent, and strong, but these are just tendencies she has. Beneath the personality, beneath all the structures in the mind, there is a Self. Some call it a spark of the divine. I am that spark inside Jean."

Scott couldn't think of words for this situation. "I don't understand…"

"Everyone has a Self Scott. You, Jean, the Professor, and even Logan have a piece of inexplicable behind all your thoughts and feelings. You would be nothing more than predictable animals without a Self. Are you starting to understand?"

Scott had never read much on philosophy, psychology, mysticism, or anything else that might help him understand this situation. It just never seemed like a pragmatic pursuit. Now he was regretting it. "I think so. How come I'm here talking to you instead of the Jean I know?"

"That's complicated. Let's just say that all of the personalities inhabiting Jean's mind are indisposed. Jean is fine and Phoenix will recover, but while they are away I am all that is left in here."

"If I kissed you now, would I be kissing Jean?"

"Yes," she said, flashing him a radiant smile. "But that's not the reason you're here. You saw something in Phoenix, didn't you?"

Scott nodded. "I saw you."

"This business with Phoenix is breaking Jean because it is killing me, her Self. I am as trapped in Phoenix as she is trapped in Jean. While Phoenix cannot be freed now, she cannot stay chained in Jean's mind. Phoenix is not a foe to be fought. She is a force to be resisted."

Scott tried to understand the situation, but he wasn't prepared to delve to the depths of the mind. "How do I resist her?"

"You are a strong man. You may not realize it, but you actually just resisted one of her outbursts. If she could have exerted herself she would have killed you. You will need protection before you face her full fury."

Scott stopped for a second and looked around. "Is any of this real? Did I really just face Phoenix? Are you really what you say you are?"

"Of course it's 'real.' This is as real as any of the nonsense that happens in your waking world. This is the only reality I have."

Scott moved closer to the apparition. "You know I really love Jean. That must mean that I love you. Do you love me as well?"

"Of course. However, you should note that I'm not a creature of sensation like you. I can see that you want to embrace me, kiss me, and probably more, but I would feel none of it. Your love for Jean should be as sensual as possible. Your love for me cannot be so."

Scott reached out and took her hand. Kneeling before her, he kissed it gently. "Can you send me back now?"

"Be strong, my champion."