Jean's PoV

"Annie!"

Agony rushes through my body as the squeals of tires break the silence of my childhood street. I held the bloody hand of my best friend as her last breath left her tiny, broken body. Her pain is my pain. Her fear is my fear. She spent her last minutes of life in so much terror.

So much pain.

So much fear.

"I am time. I am nightmares. I am Oblivion, and I will not be stopped. I cannot be stopped!"

The fear is stronger than anything I have ever faced. I am certain I am going to die. The silence is deafening and at the same time, too loud. I fight him with every ounce of power I have, but my energy is quickly depleting. My psych energy squishes the entity into a solid box. The aura twisting and forming around his figure like veiny tendrils until finally, the last of his power has been contained.

Darkness.

Utter darkness.

The M'Kraan crystal cannot be destroyed. I have to protect it. Fear pulses through my veins, but the Phoenix's influence is too strong to fight back. The darkness dissolves into blinding, white-hot light, and a silent scream leaves my lips as we plummet into the fiery hot surface of the sun. I await my death. I wait for the heat to fry me into nothingness, but it does not come. I simply fad from consciousness, numb to all feeling and emotion.

Then I'm in Cerebro, modified to get rid of the Phoenix. Hands clamped against cold metal. Lonely. The feeling of my powers being dampened leaves a hollow feeling deep in my soul. The agony is astounding. I want it to end. I need it to end. I want to die.

Scott. Where's Scott?

The Rapport is cut. Scott is dead.

Once my mind decides to stop replaying my most traumatic experiences, I find myself slowly waking up. Groggy at first, I try to figure out where I am, and if what happened in Egypt was all a nightmare like the ones I just had.

When I open my eyes and let them adjust to the bright light overhead, I do not recognize this place at all. I'm able to sit up with ease, so I know not restrained to the table I'm on, and there doesn't seem to be anyone or anything around waiting to kill me. Before I let myself panic, I quickly scan around telepathically, looking for anyone who knows where we're at.

Wakanda?

I remember Ororo mentioning something about a childhood friend being from a technically advanced nation in Africa called Wakanda. I always imagined it being something similar to Tokyo's level of technology because this is Earth. But just this room alone surpasses anything that I've seen on this planet.

Even the Shi'ar and other alien technology have a run for their money.

By the time I've absorbed everything I can, clangy footsteps are coming from outside the room, accompanied by a very familiar psych signature. The door slides open and to no surprise, Scott walks him.

He looks exhausted, steam rising from the sleek cup he has in his grip. Even their paper cups somehow are futuristic. His tired composer seems to lift slightly when he sees me awake. His stride quickens and he sets his coffee down on a metal tray before wrapping his arms around me and kissing the top of my head.

"You had me worried," he says. I let go of the tension that remained from the series of nightmares. Scott's presence has a way of making me relax. It makes me know I'm safe. After everything we've been through together, especially in the last few years, our bodies just mesh together and give us calm in whatever storm we are facing.

I press my forehead to his shoulder, my fingertips stroking the hair at the base of his neck. After a moment, I slide off the table, using Scott to balance myself as I'm a little wobbly at first. "I'm going to need to catch up."

He explains to me that after Shadow King's psychic attack on us, the Wakandans brought us back to recuperate. Slowly but surely, everyone on our team has woken up, with me being the last. I know it's because I was the one actively fighting him so I took the brunt of the attack, but I would be lying if I say it doesn't bruise my ego a tad bit.

Currently, Shadow King is off the radar, but the Wakandans have taken DNA from both Ororo and Logan and are using it to scan the globe for Kendall's DNA. The moment they find her, we are headed out to rescue her.

"And then there's the issue of how the hell we're going to defeat him," Scott says. He takes a sip of coffee, brows furrowed. "Ororo suggested we use Rachel."

He says this as if it is a very ridiculous idea. And I wish it was one. I hate to admit it, but with the Phoenix, Rachel may be able to get an upper hand on Shadow King. That responsibility is something I have tried to avoid giving her, but she always disobeys our orders to stay out of things and ends up saving the day. Her power is limitless, but that is something I would never wish on anybody.

"I could not defeat him," I start, carefully choosing my words. "Maybe if I had tried harder and not let him get to me, I could have weakened him more, but I do not know if I am capable of killing him. If even can be killed, the one person I know that would be able to is Rachel. I do not want to put her in danger any more than you do, Scott, but our daughter is possessed by a very powerful, psychic entity. Maybe that's not so bad of an idea."

I cannot see most of his expression through his visor, but I am certain he is staring at me as if I grew a second head.

"You think we should sacrifice Rachel's safety to this monster?" He demands. "Hell no, Jean! You saw first-hand what it did to you! If Rachel…"

I put a hand on his shoulder. "He attacked in a way I was not prepared for. Rachel will be. She always is." Just saying this makes me feel like the absolute worst mother. I should be protecting her with every breath in my body. God knows I try. But she is rebellious and far too mature for her age. Trauma molded her into the person she is, and I know no matter what I say, she will always do what she thinks is right.

He shakes his head, shrugging my hand away. He starts to pace. "She's here, you know? She followed us. Our thirteen-year-old daughter followed us to keep us safe. That isn't her responsibility! None of this is her responsibility! We're the most fucked up parents!"

"Or Maybe," Rachel comes into the room, her fiery personality making a very obvious appearance. "You can just let me be me and do my thing. There'd be a lot less arguing. And all the parenting books say it is bad for a child's development to be around arguing parents all the time."

"We weren't arguing," I assure her, not even questioning what parenting books she's read until after Scott adds on.

"We were discussing how disobedient you are being. Your mom and I told you to stay home and you didn't listen!"

He hasn't learned yet that Rachel is too strong-willed to listen to us. She went without her parents for longer than she has been with us. It is just wishful thinking to believe she will start listening to us now.

"At least I can defeat Shadow King!" Rachel exclaims. "This isn't about me disobeying anyone! A kid is missing and you are all too busy not fighting off his psychic attacks to do anything about it! I have experience with the astral plane! The Professor took me in it as part of my training before my timeline was destroyed. That Professor prioritized it, unlike here. And how many times do I have to remind you that I have the Phoenix!"

Scott shakes his head. "No. Absolutely not! You're thirteen, Rachel! You shouldn't even be here!"

"You're right! I shouldn't be here! I should be dead. I should have rotted away with the rest of my timeline, but I didn't! For some god-forsaken reason, I'm here, and all I have to show for it is a lifetime of trauma! And I'll have even more if you don't let me do everything to protect you!"

"That isn't your job!" Scott argues right back, but his voice wavers slightly. I stay silent a moment more. This isn't her job, no. But it doesn't take a telepath to know her trauma is extensive. Even as a telepath, I don't know how extensive it is. She keeps it deep, internalizing most of it until she is most vulnerable— sleeping.

Her screams during nightmares could wake the dead. The distressed wails break my heart every time. Scott and I have grown accustomed to her bed, holding her close and trying to calm her down.

We do what we can. Take her to therapy twice a week, comfort her when she needs it, and promise her love and protection. But how can we protect her when she is so hellbent on protecting us?

"And I thought our family had drama," a new voice joined the conversation. In the doorway stands two Wakandans, an adult man and a teenage girl, a few years older than Rachel. With a brief scan, I know this is King T'Challa and his little sister, Princess Shuri.

"We have managed to track him to a small isle off Scotland known as Muir Island. He has the infant," T'Challa says. "My people will supply you with any technology and military you need, but I am afraid our weapons will not be much help against a being such as the Shadow King."

Then he looks at Rachel, a grin tugging at his lips. "Though what my sister has told me, we will not need our weapons."