So you can find this adventure OG on the site I made specifically for it: X-Men Envisionings
Where you can read the Parts a few days earlier than I'll be posting here,
as well as xperience xclusive content like thought pieces and playlists.
(I have it formatted a touch better there, too, ngl).
Otherwise,
enjoy the adventure below!
Where you can read the Parts a few days earlier than I'll be posting here,
as well as xperience xclusive content like thought pieces and playlists.
(I have it formatted a touch better there, too, ngl).
Otherwise,
enjoy the adventure below!
🧬🌐🧬
Compelled by the realistic world building of the original X-Men movies and those versions of Cyclops & Jean Grey, X-Men Envisionings is one
fan's text adaptation of that iteration of the mutant world and its characters; riffing off from the events and continuity of the first two movies pluswith further inspiration drawn from the comics, The Animated Series, and their storytelling principles.
Ideally this will be a web comic, but as I don't have those skills, for now it's a text adaptation.
If the idea inspires you and you'd like to be the artist for it, shoot me a PM here or DM on Discord
(un: techtraplex | dn: 🎬TechtraPlex👓)
Taking a "never or now" approach, this series is a work-in-progress, releasing unfinalized drafts.
For your open mind and your time:
thX
🧬 Cychtra
fan's text adaptation of that iteration of the mutant world and its characters; riffing off from the events and continuity of the first two movies plus
So at an early point in my Envisionings journey, I came across an interview with Mike Dougherty, one of the credited writers for X2 on what the third X-Men movie may've been had he and the original director* worked on it.
Search for Slashfilm interview "Filmcast: After Dark - Ep. 73 - Making Tirck 'R Treat" and skip to timestamp 24:55 for that.
I also came across a concept, mentioned by X2 writer Dan Harris, for a version of Emma Frost.
Search "Sigourney Weaver Was Going to be Emma Frost - SuperHeroHype" for that.
I found that take on Emma interesting and Mike Dougherty's idea for X3 infinitely more captivating than X3: The Last Stand (not to mention smoother and more interesting to work off from).
This is what I've taken to calling "X3: Unseen" as a reference shorthand.
From there, inspiration filled in details to where I also have my take on X3:Unseen, which for reference to readers of Envisionings is as follows:
(Note: a video by youtube channel Bullets and Blockbusters describes additional details regarding Emma Frost's role in X3 Unseen. I'm not aware of what their source material
is on that and I actually find certain details less compelling, so considering them I would
also have the adjustments of:
With that explanation set, I hope you'll enjoy joining the ride of my Envisionings.
*I do not support abuse of any kind.
I'm just responding to the art. A movie is a work of many.
I'm just responding to the art. A movie is a work of many.
Search for Slashfilm interview "Filmcast: After Dark - Ep. 73 - Making Tirck 'R Treat" and skip to timestamp 24:55 for that.
I also came across a concept, mentioned by X2 writer Dan Harris, for a version of Emma Frost.
Search "Sigourney Weaver Was Going to be Emma Frost - SuperHeroHype" for that.
I found that take on Emma interesting and Mike Dougherty's idea for X3 infinitely more captivating than X3: The Last Stand (not to mention smoother and more interesting to work off from).
This is what I've taken to calling "X3: Unseen" as a reference shorthand.
From there, inspiration filled in details to where I also have my take on X3:Unseen, which for reference to readers of Envisionings is as follows:
- -Emma Frost is a (closeted mutant) therapist who uses her powers in her sessions, unbeknownst to her clients.
-Xavier, aware of her (though with a false idea of what her powers are) arranges for Cyclops to see her to help with his grief and guilt over the loss of Jean Grey.
-Cyclops is unreceptive to the therapy, until the end (with Emma Frost discovering
she can't even find his emotions to touch -a first for her- until that point)
(Note: a video by youtube channel Bullets and Blockbusters describes additional details regarding Emma Frost's role in X3 Unseen. I'm not aware of what their source material
is on that and I actually find certain details less compelling, so considering them I would
also have the adjustments of:
- -no romantic history between Xavier and Emma, placing her more in the age range of Cyclops
-any manipulation of Jean Grey by Ms. Frost it not realized by the X-Men).
With that explanation set, I hope you'll enjoy joining the ride of my Envisionings.
X
Ideally this will be a web comic, but as I don't have those skills, for now it's a text adaptation.
If the idea inspires you and you'd like to be the artist for it, shoot me a PM here or DM on Discord
(un: techtraplex | dn: 🎬TechtraPlex👓)
Taking a "never or now" approach, this series is a work-in-progress, releasing unfinalized drafts.
"...The creature will still go through a few more mutations ...
always adapting to new ideas in the hopes of making it better.
Stronger. The evolution continues.
Quote by Michael Dougherty & Dan Harris
on the script of X2, April 20th 2003.
always adapting to new ideas in the hopes of making it better.
Stronger. The evolution continues.
Quote by Michael Dougherty & Dan Harris
on the script of X2, April 20th 2003.
For your open mind and your time:
thX
🧬 Cychtra
🎼Cue X-Men Movie Theme🎼
☄️🔄
We see pockets of water and plant life, at once familiar and otherworldly.
Though also noxious and blighted -it's clear, despite the alien quality of this ecosystem,
that it isn't as it should be.
Then we watch as it gradually starts on fire.
Instead of everything burning, we see the vegetation and water anew,
-renewed, as the fire is swept -as though pulled- away.
The species of this planet look up towards a bright light in the sky, a light which appears closer than a sun.
Their faces represent a mix of emotions; gratitude, relief, humility, apology.
Then we hear the echo of a strong, compassionate voice:
"Remember. What's in the past can also be in the future. It's in your hands, now."
The sky turns suddenly dusky as the near light moves away. . . .
. . . .and we come to join it as it soars throughout the cosmos, from one galaxy to another, seeking out a familiar planet; the third from its sun.
We move in on a scene on the grounds of Xavier's School for Gifted Youngsters.
Ororo Munroe A.K.A. Storm, is teaching an environmental class.
Utilizing her weather powers, Storm demonstrates two possible outcomes on a micro-scale: draining the moister from the air and earth to reduce a patch of grass to drought-like conditions, while with another she increases the agreeability of its immediate environment, eliciting rich growth.
A young First Nations girls can be seen clearly holding the information in her head, rather, her hands, as images of a healthy, wild patch of nature, and a desolate plot appear above her palms.
Her classmates observe the two scenes until Professor Munroe begins commenting.
We can't hear what's said, but the girl's projected imaginings disappear as soon as she comes to attention.
Far off on another part of the grounds, Marie A.K.A. Rogue and Bobby Drake A.K.A. Iceman are conditioning themselves with some basic training; running track. Like before, we don't have full sound on the scene, but some good natured teasing seems to be going on -Rogue, the mutant who can't safely touch another living person, pretends she's about to remove one glove and grab Iceman in a playful threat that he better run faster.
He does her one better, making an ice track in his lane that he now slides swiftly down.
In Professor Charles Xavier's office, Logan A.K.A. Wolverine, in a new X-Men uniform, and Kurt Wagner A.K.A. Nightcrawler in one of his own, seem to be finalizing details with Professor X on an impending mission. Each is wearing a pack.
Wolverine extends his adamantium claws from between his knuckles, breaking in his new gloves. Nightcrawler sets a three-fingered hand on his shoulder and the next moment,
*BAMFS* himself and Wolverine away.
And so too do we leave, to see glimpses of existences beyond this singular place-
Through the skylight of a New York apartment, a man with red lensed sunglasses
sitting on a couch, talking with a red-haired woman. The moment possibly intimate;
certainly amicable.
-we travel on, a star visible in the day-sky across these scenes,
though largely missed by the subjects:
Mutants,
Non-Mutants,
their interactions; such as they typically are.
Finally we circle back to look down on the man we saw before,
now treading towards a headstone. .
. .We see both by their shadows as, with the soft sound of crunching grass,
he comes to stand in front of it.
The shadow of his arm rises.
We hear a gentle kissing sound before seeing his hand come to lay on top of the stone.
". . .not a day will go by. . ."
We follow this man, Scott Summers A.K.A. Cyclops, as he returns to the school,
walking past a dedication to Jean Grey.
Later, in what had been their room, Scott stands, ready for bed, in front of the open wardrobe. On one side we can see his clothes. What's on the other side isn't visible to us.
He holds a book in his hands, where we see a more private dedication; an inscription in the front cover:
To my dear Jean.
I hope the words in this book will do in place of what I can't express.
Love Scott.
Scott gives the book of poetry pensive regard,
before placing it in, or returning it to, the unrevealed side of the wardrobe.
The close of a day. .
. .brings us back out to the cosmos, where a fantastic release of power takes place.
A celestial body descends on the Grounds like a meteor, yet there's no impact. Instead,
as it comes to land at a certain spot, the fiery tail drifts back towards space, like a cape
let go in the wind -or a bird taking flight.
From the perspective of an individual, we're now reentering the X Mansion.
We walk through the presently unoccupied halls, passing the dedication once again,
we know exactly where we're going, and come to stand outside a familiar door.
A female hand is placed on the knob. .
. .and once inside, gently rouses Scott.
He looks at her as if she's a dream. "You're on my mind a lot today, dear--!"
Having reached out, he comes suddenly to full alertness; sitting up. "-Jean?!"
His hand -both hands, move about her in gentle confirmation: this is no lucid dream.
"How?"
"It's, complicated to put into words. . ."
Though she manages to find some: "I left things unfinished."
Jean meets his "eyes".
". . but everything we went through. . .Why it had to happen. . -"
"We won't have to worry about that."
Scott's brows knit together. He's disturbed.
A figurative step back to explain: "You released me- . .released my power, from a place it couldn't be." Getting up from the bed, Jean moves towards the window.
Scott watches her until she continues: "I reclaimed that place. . ." Jean brushes her hand over her arm . . turning, after another moment, to definitively conclude:
"But nothing else is reversed."
"You're powerless?" he rises out of bed, taking a step closer.
"Not exactly. I still carry an active X-Gene. But my power is no where near the point it was,
or could ever come to again." A statement or a vow?
Both stand staring, as if reading each other.
Jean steps closer. "I wanted you to be the first to kn- the first I let know that I'm back. . .
I know this is a lot."
They don't come to close the distance between them completely;
assessing this new circumstance. . . .
[Caption Box (/Voiceover - Jean Grey)
"Across these past two years, I've experienced new life. Reconciliation of other beings;
it is possible. No matter how far I'd gone, I never stopped wanting this for my family. .]
Cont'd into our next scene, where we see Jean is now speaking not only to Cyclops,
but to the rest of the X-Men presently on-site -Colossus, Kitty, Iceman, Rogue, Storm,
and Professor X. All gathered in a Staff Room:
". .When I realized how I could return, it felt like ego not to. Like I would only be part of the problem if I stayed away. That being said I know what everyone went through because of me. . .I considered keeping away from this place. . .though I can't do what I intend to from behind the scenes, and I didn't want to add confusion to everything else once you found out I was back."
Storm: "You count as well, Jean. We no sooner can expect you to stay away from what is still your home."
Jean smiles like that means so much. "Thank you, Ororo," the smile fades. "Even still, as much as I'd like to do what I came to alongside all of you again, if it's too much for anyone," his eyes linger just a noticeable amount longer on Scott, "I'll make a fresh start of my
second chance."
Xavier: ". . .Well I don't think I need to be psychic to know the consensus of the room."
He smiles deeply. "Welcome back, Jean Grey."
Though also noxious and blighted -it's clear, despite the alien quality of this ecosystem,
that it isn't as it should be.
Then we watch as it gradually starts on fire.
Instead of everything burning, we see the vegetation and water anew,
-renewed, as the fire is swept -as though pulled- away.
The species of this planet look up towards a bright light in the sky, a light which appears closer than a sun.
Their faces represent a mix of emotions; gratitude, relief, humility, apology.
Then we hear the echo of a strong, compassionate voice:
"Remember. What's in the past can also be in the future. It's in your hands, now."
The sky turns suddenly dusky as the near light moves away. . . .
. . . .and we come to join it as it soars throughout the cosmos, from one galaxy to another, seeking out a familiar planet; the third from its sun.
[Caption Box (/Voiceover - Charles Xavier)
"As mutants, from the instant we discover who we truly are, impossible realities
become the way of our lives. . ]
"As mutants, from the instant we discover who we truly are, impossible realities
become the way of our lives. . ]
We move in on a scene on the grounds of Xavier's School for Gifted Youngsters.
Ororo Munroe A.K.A. Storm, is teaching an environmental class.
Utilizing her weather powers, Storm demonstrates two possible outcomes on a micro-scale: draining the moister from the air and earth to reduce a patch of grass to drought-like conditions, while with another she increases the agreeability of its immediate environment, eliciting rich growth.
A young First Nations girls can be seen clearly holding the information in her head, rather, her hands, as images of a healthy, wild patch of nature, and a desolate plot appear above her palms.
Her classmates observe the two scenes until Professor Munroe begins commenting.
We can't hear what's said, but the girl's projected imaginings disappear as soon as she comes to attention.
Far off on another part of the grounds, Marie A.K.A. Rogue and Bobby Drake A.K.A. Iceman are conditioning themselves with some basic training; running track. Like before, we don't have full sound on the scene, but some good natured teasing seems to be going on -Rogue, the mutant who can't safely touch another living person, pretends she's about to remove one glove and grab Iceman in a playful threat that he better run faster.
He does her one better, making an ice track in his lane that he now slides swiftly down.
In Professor Charles Xavier's office, Logan A.K.A. Wolverine, in a new X-Men uniform, and Kurt Wagner A.K.A. Nightcrawler in one of his own, seem to be finalizing details with Professor X on an impending mission. Each is wearing a pack.
Wolverine extends his adamantium claws from between his knuckles, breaking in his new gloves. Nightcrawler sets a three-fingered hand on his shoulder and the next moment,
*BAMFS* himself and Wolverine away.
And so too do we leave, to see glimpses of existences beyond this singular place-
Through the skylight of a New York apartment, a man with red lensed sunglasses
sitting on a couch, talking with a red-haired woman. The moment possibly intimate;
certainly amicable.
-we travel on, a star visible in the day-sky across these scenes,
though largely missed by the subjects:
Mutants,
Non-Mutants,
their interactions; such as they typically are.
[Caption (V/O) CONT'D
. .Perhaps that is how we can go on in a world which feels, so often,
incompatible with us. .]
. .Perhaps that is how we can go on in a world which feels, so often,
incompatible with us. .]
Finally we circle back to look down on the man we saw before,
now treading towards a headstone. .
. .We see both by their shadows as, with the soft sound of crunching grass,
he comes to stand in front of it.
The shadow of his arm rises.
We hear a gentle kissing sound before seeing his hand come to lay on top of the stone.
". . .not a day will go by. . ."
We follow this man, Scott Summers A.K.A. Cyclops, as he returns to the school,
walking past a dedication to Jean Grey.
Later, in what had been their room, Scott stands, ready for bed, in front of the open wardrobe. On one side we can see his clothes. What's on the other side isn't visible to us.
He holds a book in his hands, where we see a more private dedication; an inscription in the front cover:
To my dear Jean.
I hope the words in this book will do in place of what I can't express.
Love Scott.
Scott gives the book of poetry pensive regard,
before placing it in, or returning it to, the unrevealed side of the wardrobe.
The close of a day. .
[Caption (V/O) CONT'D
". .As we understand that what we know to be reality,
is only what we know now."]
". .As we understand that what we know to be reality,
is only what we know now."]
. .brings us back out to the cosmos, where a fantastic release of power takes place.
A celestial body descends on the Grounds like a meteor, yet there's no impact. Instead,
as it comes to land at a certain spot, the fiery tail drifts back towards space, like a cape
let go in the wind -or a bird taking flight.
From the perspective of an individual, we're now reentering the X Mansion.
We walk through the presently unoccupied halls, passing the dedication once again,
we know exactly where we're going, and come to stand outside a familiar door.
A female hand is placed on the knob. .
. .and once inside, gently rouses Scott.
He looks at her as if she's a dream. "You're on my mind a lot today, dear--!"
Having reached out, he comes suddenly to full alertness; sitting up. "-Jean?!"
His hand -both hands, move about her in gentle confirmation: this is no lucid dream.
"How?"
"It's, complicated to put into words. . ."
Though she manages to find some: "I left things unfinished."
Jean meets his "eyes".
". . but everything we went through. . .Why it had to happen. . -"
"We won't have to worry about that."
Scott's brows knit together. He's disturbed.
A figurative step back to explain: "You released me- . .released my power, from a place it couldn't be." Getting up from the bed, Jean moves towards the window.
Scott watches her until she continues: "I reclaimed that place. . ." Jean brushes her hand over her arm . . turning, after another moment, to definitively conclude:
"But nothing else is reversed."
"You're powerless?" he rises out of bed, taking a step closer.
"Not exactly. I still carry an active X-Gene. But my power is no where near the point it was,
or could ever come to again." A statement or a vow?
Both stand staring, as if reading each other.
Jean steps closer. "I wanted you to be the first to kn- the first I let know that I'm back. . .
I know this is a lot."
They don't come to close the distance between them completely;
assessing this new circumstance. . . .
[Caption Box (/Voiceover - Jean Grey)
"Across these past two years, I've experienced new life. Reconciliation of other beings;
it is possible. No matter how far I'd gone, I never stopped wanting this for my family. .]
Cont'd into our next scene, where we see Jean is now speaking not only to Cyclops,
but to the rest of the X-Men presently on-site -Colossus, Kitty, Iceman, Rogue, Storm,
and Professor X. All gathered in a Staff Room:
". .When I realized how I could return, it felt like ego not to. Like I would only be part of the problem if I stayed away. That being said I know what everyone went through because of me. . .I considered keeping away from this place. . .though I can't do what I intend to from behind the scenes, and I didn't want to add confusion to everything else once you found out I was back."
Storm: "You count as well, Jean. We no sooner can expect you to stay away from what is still your home."
Jean smiles like that means so much. "Thank you, Ororo," the smile fades. "Even still, as much as I'd like to do what I came to alongside all of you again, if it's too much for anyone," his eyes linger just a noticeable amount longer on Scott, "I'll make a fresh start of my
second chance."
Xavier: ". . .Well I don't think I need to be psychic to know the consensus of the room."
He smiles deeply. "Welcome back, Jean Grey."
The following day.
Jean comes down a hallway to see the same First Nations girl we saw in Storm's
Environmental Studies class now watching her with polite interest.
Jean greets her warmly. "Hello."
"Hi."
"I have the feeling there's something specific on your mind?"
She's paused in front of her.
The girl smiles. "You could just tell without asking, couldn't you?"
"Yes, but I prefer to ask."
The girl seems to like that. "Did you really go to space, by yourself? I mean..."
she thinks of the correct question. "By your own powers?"
"Sort of." Jean seems reluctant to say more on this subject.
"What was it like out there?"
It's now Jean considering a correct answer.
"A lot of it. . .it would be hard to describe. And likely unbelievable."
"I have a good imagination." Smiling anew, the girl allows a projection to form
above her head. It's an outdoor scene, with all the living things appearing
at once familiar and other-worldly.
Jean watches the imagining for a moment, smiling herself. "I can see that.
So you must be Holo."
The imagining disappears as the girl is surprised, though her expression
soon turns to reflect self-awareness: "You've already heard about me?"
"About some of the new students."
"Yeah. . .I tend to leave impressions. I don't mean to mostly, but I also don't mind.
Mostly." She laughs a little. Then, seeing she still has Jean's attention, she resumes
her projected imagining of outer worlds.
Jean returns to that conversation: "If I'm being honest, since I've come back
a lot of what I experienced out there feels. . .more like a dream than a part
of this life. Not quite, though."
"Dreams are kind of like going out to other existences," Holo answers thoughtfully.
Gradually, the imagery evolves --no longer just above Holo's head, it seems to surround her and Jean, blending in a grotesque way with the hall. In fact, it's as though we're seeing this part of the Mansion through a kaleidoscope, yet with differences to the reflected image; more or less subtle depending on the section.
Jean closes her eyes. "That's a bit much now, Holo."
Holo: "Hm?"
Opening her eyes, Jean manages to discern the scenescape above Holo's head fading, though the distorted imagery remains. She squints, trying to bring the hall into correct focus
--then suddenly, it is.
"Dr. Grey?"
Her eyes still on the hall, Jean clarifies: "That wasn't all you?"
"Uhm. . ." Holo looks where Jean seems to be. "I was only focusing on the one spot. . .
I guess I might've spilled out." She doesn't seem sure what Jean's referring to.
Jean shakes her head after a moment.
"I think I'm having a case of intergalactic jet leg."
This makes Holo laugh again.
Jean: "I'll see you around."
Holo nods, happily watching Jean go.
While Jean's expression, obscured from Holo's view as she passes her,
reflects puzzlement and concern; Jean's eyes shifting as she continues,
as if watching for the halls to distort again. They don't in the least.
No time to give further thought to this, Jean has a meeting to get to.
We're back in the Staff Room, this time joined by one more individual.
Xavier: "I feel the need to reintroduce you to someone.
Jean, this is Dr. Henry McCoy."
Hank extends a large, blue-furred hand: "As last we knew each other was pre-acquisition
of my hirsute, savoy patina, I would agree with Charles."
Jean smiles: "You should've let me guess. I would've known it was you as soon as you spoke."
Hank's smile broadens: "'One superlatively important effect of wide reading is the enlargement of vocabulary which always accompanies it' -H.P. Lovecraft."
Jean's smile deepens. "It's great to see you here again, Hank.
I'm glad you'll be joining us for this."
"On that, by all means, let us commence."
He takes his seat around the long table.
Jean begins hesitantly -not out of lack of confidence on what she's saying,
but the intricacies and personalness of the subject matter- casting a reverential look to Xavier: "This school has always served its purpose well. A place for young mutants to learn about their powers safely, and about themselves away from judgement. A safe haven."
Xavier nods in reception of her feelings.
Jean continues her address to the room in general: "While some of us have and will call this place home beyond our school years, many won't. What's waiting for them beyond these grounds continues to be discrimination, and with seemingly few exceptions it's only us mutants who seem interested in building an equal life. We all know how non-mutants generally respond. I think we need to take steps to directly foster compassion and eventually comradery in the younger generation of non-mutants. No one is born with hate. But it is taught."
Her eyes close as she figuratively travels back to the unbelievable space she's been:
"As Phoenix, I saw many existences. . .As beings we're all still very young, with much
to learn." Her eyes open. "I can no longer just witness what's still happening here,
and it doesn't take Phoenix power to make change. We need to continue -to
broaden digging up future issues before they take seed."
Hank: "'If we are to teach real peace in this world, and if we are to carry on a real war against war, we shall have to begin with the children' -Mahatma Gandhi."
A soft smile crosses Jean's lips. "Maybe I should've lead with that."
Storm: "Indeed it is a noble idea. What steps do you propose, Jean?"
Jean: "That's why we're all here. We need suggestions. Though focusing on youth
is only part of it. We'll also need someone to be our voice on the street. Many who
make their opinions about us do so from secondhand information at best. If a mutant
is involved in property damage for instance, it's never the mutant who is spoken to.
All anyone hears about is the result, not all of the factors involved in causing it."
Xavier: "I've thought the same for a long while. We may finally have such a connection through a friend of another graduate." He sports at once a telling yet unrevealing smile. "He had hoped to join us today though had to postpone."
By the looks exchanged across the table, most seem to know to whom Xavier is referring.
Jean is pleasantly intrigued, but lets that name go unsaid.
Living as an "all-knowing adjacent" being for the past while, a little mystery is welcomed.
Scott: "How about a camp? We could create an even ratio by having as many
of our students attend as non-mutants sign up."
Storm: "I like that too, though cannot see many parents wanting to sign their kids
up for a couple weeks with mutants."
"Well, we wouldn't advertise it so explicitly."
Jean: "I don't know, Scott. It's the right idea but it can't come off as deceptive."
Scott: "In general brochures don't state the type of campers that'll be there unless the camps are made for a specific demographic. Kids signed up for any camp could find themselves interacting with mutants, the difference with ours is it'll be by design and we'll actually care that those interactions are positive."
And so the meeting continues.
On its close, as everyone is filing out, Jean pauses, taken over by another strange sensation.
This time she sees no distortion, though the clarity of her vision is more dream-like; the edges of the room blurred, the room itself not so clear. Voices coming to her ears as
though Jean's not as present as they are --or are they coming from another place?
Jean brings her fingers to the side of her head.
Far off as they sound, the voices aren't foreign.
Beast, Iceman, Cyclops. . .that tracks. . .
"Jean?. .Jean?"
She finds Scott standing in front of her.
"Sorry, were you saying something else?"
"No. I noticed you weren't with us. Are you okay?"
". . .It's just a lot, I guess."
"Yeah, I guess it would be."
They both seem unsure.
Unsure regarding this present moment and for their own, additional reasons.
Jean lowers her hand, finding an explanation: "I didn't get much sleep last night.
I can't even remember if I've eaten anything."
"You did. At least I'm pretty sure. You came late to lunch but I saw you getting something."
"That's right. I saw you too, before you had to go. . ." Their unsurety persists.
"It's been strange," Jean confides. "I'm having to readjust to things I didn't
even think about -sleep, hunger. Even time."
Scott's brows raise like he hadn't thought of that.
He keeps focused on Jean with a listening look.
"I know I should try and resist, to get back to a regular schedule,
but I think I'll go see if I can catch up on some rest."
"Oh-" he quickly masks a dashed hope for more of a conversation,
"-I'll see you later, then."
She affirms and leaves.
Scott heads for the door a moment leader.
Later, Jean wakes in her room to the sound of voices.
Muffled though they are by the closed door, they're still loud enough,
sounding like they're coming from right outside it.
"C'mon guys. . ." she says in a low tone not likely to carry, while she gets up to cross the room to it, "if you need something just knock alr--"
No one is on the other side.
Jean glances down the hallways, but no one is sight, either.
In fact, only now do a small group of students turn down this way. A couple looking to her as they pass by. Though their lips seem to be forming familiar words, what comes out of them doesn't sound like real language to Jean. She stares uncomprehendingly, but they've already turned away; moved along.
Jean massages her head.
Checking the time, she decides to head to the kitchen to fix herself an early dinner.
Afterward, from the perspective of Cyclops coming down the hall,
we spy Jean getting into the elevator.
She's gone down to the Danger Room.
A new addition to the X Mansion since last she walked these halls.
In fact, an addition directly related to her departure.
She's in the Control Room portion, leafing through a manual when we hear Scott's voice: "Interested?"
"How could I not be," lowering the manual, she meets him with an impressed look,
"I almost can't believe you built this."
Scott smiles unpretentiously.
"I was going to see what it could do but I don't know the passcode."
"It's Five-U-R-V-One-V-Four-Seven."
Jean takes on an air of play: "So does knowing it mean I'm part of some elite few?"
"You already were. All the X-Men are told."
She grows subdued; looking down. "Then maybe I shouldn't. . ." she runs her hand across the control panel, "that part of me is in the past."
Scott doesn't think so. "You came back with a mission, benefitting human and
mutantkind. It's like what you said about change; you don't need awesome power
to be an X-Man."
A quiet smile crosses Jean's face, her voice to match: "That's true."
". . .If you'd like to see it in action, Danger Class is in session tomorrow."
"Danger Class?"
"Well after. . everything that happened before you ascended, many of the students expressed interest in wanting to learn how to use their powers proactively. If not to
graduate to be X-Men some day at least to feel less vulnerable in unpredictable
situations."
Jean looks understanding of that.
"At first I wasn't sure about it." Scott looks out through the control room window to the Danger Room proper, "this place came out of unhealthy obsession. . .But you know,
I actually agree with Logan on this one; it beats the old method."
Jean's smile broadens some. Their earlier awkwardness long given
way to a more comfortable presence. "How is he, by the way?"
"He's Logan."
Jean laughs somewhat.
"He's struck up an odd friendship with Kurt, though."
"Odd how?"
"Well if I were to bet on which person Logan would actually wanna'
spend his time with, Kurt would've been my forth choice, at best."
Jean looks like she's thinking over what his choices may be.
She eyes him. "So when does Danger Class start?"
Next Day - Danger Class
From the control room, Scott works the panel, programming a sim.
"This disengages it instantly if something goes awry," he points out. "The sim does function on select voice commands from inside, however there are situations which can fetter that.
Best to have a failsafe. Usually I'll assign someone. . ." He meets her eye with a small smile,
"I thought I'd give you the option of taking that position today."
Jean smiles. "I'd like to."
So, as Cyclops joins his class in the Danger Room proper, the sim gets underway.
Jean is able to watch via the observation window turned into multiple screens, covering
the action from different angles. Most display the fully simulated environment, though
a couple show the action without the virtual reality overlay.
While she takes in the action, Jean's fingers begin to move restlessly. The movement
is almost absentminded, though soon Jean is checking her level of engagement.
And soon after that, she has to check something hasn't malfunctioned with the display.
Suddenly everything is too high of contrast; the colours are unreal. Jean looks to the section of the control panel she was shown works the monitors, and realizes the control panel itself looks unreal.
The sensation has grown overwhelming -it's auditory as well as visual.
Jean's on the cusp of leaving when she thinks to disengage the sim before she does so.
Inside, everyone looks around as the sim arrests and fades around them.
Cyclops: "Wait here."
He walks back to the control room expecting to ask Jean what's up.
Well he sort of gets his answer: she's gone.
He goes to the door, but she isn't in the hallway either.
One of the students hasn't "waited there".
"Is class already over, Cyclops?"
". . .No. Go rejoin the others."
They do, while Cyclops returns to the control panel. He speaks to them over comm:
"Alright we're gonna' run this one from the top. And guys, take this one seriously."
We find Jean back upstairs on the dorm level, looking disturbed. More so as finds herself outside Scott's -formerly hers and Scott's- room, instead of the one she presently occupies; as if she's walked here without thinking.
From down the hall comes a voice. "Ah, there you are."
"Jean?"
She turns to find- "Oh- Ororo. Sorry. I had something on my mind. . ."
Storm acknowledges whose door they're outside. "Or someone?"
"Or something else."
"Well if you are looking for Scott, right now is his Danger Class-"
"-I know, actually I just came from watching some of it. . ."
"Well I am glad you did not linger. I wanted to ask if you would like to
talk about whatever we desire over a cup of tea, as we used to?"
At this, Jean's disturbance falls away.
"I'd love that."
Jean comes down a hallway to see the same First Nations girl we saw in Storm's
Environmental Studies class now watching her with polite interest.
Jean greets her warmly. "Hello."
"Hi."
"I have the feeling there's something specific on your mind?"
She's paused in front of her.
The girl smiles. "You could just tell without asking, couldn't you?"
"Yes, but I prefer to ask."
The girl seems to like that. "Did you really go to space, by yourself? I mean..."
she thinks of the correct question. "By your own powers?"
"Sort of." Jean seems reluctant to say more on this subject.
"What was it like out there?"
It's now Jean considering a correct answer.
"A lot of it. . .it would be hard to describe. And likely unbelievable."
"I have a good imagination." Smiling anew, the girl allows a projection to form
above her head. It's an outdoor scene, with all the living things appearing
at once familiar and other-worldly.
Jean watches the imagining for a moment, smiling herself. "I can see that.
So you must be Holo."
The imagining disappears as the girl is surprised, though her expression
soon turns to reflect self-awareness: "You've already heard about me?"
"About some of the new students."
"Yeah. . .I tend to leave impressions. I don't mean to mostly, but I also don't mind.
Mostly." She laughs a little. Then, seeing she still has Jean's attention, she resumes
her projected imagining of outer worlds.
Jean returns to that conversation: "If I'm being honest, since I've come back
a lot of what I experienced out there feels. . .more like a dream than a part
of this life. Not quite, though."
"Dreams are kind of like going out to other existences," Holo answers thoughtfully.
Gradually, the imagery evolves --no longer just above Holo's head, it seems to surround her and Jean, blending in a grotesque way with the hall. In fact, it's as though we're seeing this part of the Mansion through a kaleidoscope, yet with differences to the reflected image; more or less subtle depending on the section.
Jean closes her eyes. "That's a bit much now, Holo."
Holo: "Hm?"
Opening her eyes, Jean manages to discern the scenescape above Holo's head fading, though the distorted imagery remains. She squints, trying to bring the hall into correct focus
--then suddenly, it is.
"Dr. Grey?"
Her eyes still on the hall, Jean clarifies: "That wasn't all you?"
"Uhm. . ." Holo looks where Jean seems to be. "I was only focusing on the one spot. . .
I guess I might've spilled out." She doesn't seem sure what Jean's referring to.
Jean shakes her head after a moment.
"I think I'm having a case of intergalactic jet leg."
This makes Holo laugh again.
Jean: "I'll see you around."
Holo nods, happily watching Jean go.
While Jean's expression, obscured from Holo's view as she passes her,
reflects puzzlement and concern; Jean's eyes shifting as she continues,
as if watching for the halls to distort again. They don't in the least.
No time to give further thought to this, Jean has a meeting to get to.
We're back in the Staff Room, this time joined by one more individual.
Xavier: "I feel the need to reintroduce you to someone.
Jean, this is Dr. Henry McCoy."
Hank extends a large, blue-furred hand: "As last we knew each other was pre-acquisition
of my hirsute, savoy patina, I would agree with Charles."
Jean smiles: "You should've let me guess. I would've known it was you as soon as you spoke."
Hank's smile broadens: "'One superlatively important effect of wide reading is the enlargement of vocabulary which always accompanies it' -H.P. Lovecraft."
Jean's smile deepens. "It's great to see you here again, Hank.
I'm glad you'll be joining us for this."
"On that, by all means, let us commence."
He takes his seat around the long table.
Jean begins hesitantly -not out of lack of confidence on what she's saying,
but the intricacies and personalness of the subject matter- casting a reverential look to Xavier: "This school has always served its purpose well. A place for young mutants to learn about their powers safely, and about themselves away from judgement. A safe haven."
Xavier nods in reception of her feelings.
Jean continues her address to the room in general: "While some of us have and will call this place home beyond our school years, many won't. What's waiting for them beyond these grounds continues to be discrimination, and with seemingly few exceptions it's only us mutants who seem interested in building an equal life. We all know how non-mutants generally respond. I think we need to take steps to directly foster compassion and eventually comradery in the younger generation of non-mutants. No one is born with hate. But it is taught."
Her eyes close as she figuratively travels back to the unbelievable space she's been:
"As Phoenix, I saw many existences. . .As beings we're all still very young, with much
to learn." Her eyes open. "I can no longer just witness what's still happening here,
and it doesn't take Phoenix power to make change. We need to continue -to
broaden digging up future issues before they take seed."
Hank: "'If we are to teach real peace in this world, and if we are to carry on a real war against war, we shall have to begin with the children' -Mahatma Gandhi."
A soft smile crosses Jean's lips. "Maybe I should've lead with that."
Storm: "Indeed it is a noble idea. What steps do you propose, Jean?"
Jean: "That's why we're all here. We need suggestions. Though focusing on youth
is only part of it. We'll also need someone to be our voice on the street. Many who
make their opinions about us do so from secondhand information at best. If a mutant
is involved in property damage for instance, it's never the mutant who is spoken to.
All anyone hears about is the result, not all of the factors involved in causing it."
Xavier: "I've thought the same for a long while. We may finally have such a connection through a friend of another graduate." He sports at once a telling yet unrevealing smile. "He had hoped to join us today though had to postpone."
By the looks exchanged across the table, most seem to know to whom Xavier is referring.
Jean is pleasantly intrigued, but lets that name go unsaid.
Living as an "all-knowing adjacent" being for the past while, a little mystery is welcomed.
Scott: "How about a camp? We could create an even ratio by having as many
of our students attend as non-mutants sign up."
Storm: "I like that too, though cannot see many parents wanting to sign their kids
up for a couple weeks with mutants."
"Well, we wouldn't advertise it so explicitly."
Jean: "I don't know, Scott. It's the right idea but it can't come off as deceptive."
Scott: "In general brochures don't state the type of campers that'll be there unless the camps are made for a specific demographic. Kids signed up for any camp could find themselves interacting with mutants, the difference with ours is it'll be by design and we'll actually care that those interactions are positive."
And so the meeting continues.
On its close, as everyone is filing out, Jean pauses, taken over by another strange sensation.
This time she sees no distortion, though the clarity of her vision is more dream-like; the edges of the room blurred, the room itself not so clear. Voices coming to her ears as
though Jean's not as present as they are --or are they coming from another place?
Jean brings her fingers to the side of her head.
Far off as they sound, the voices aren't foreign.
Beast, Iceman, Cyclops. . .that tracks. . .
"Jean?. .Jean?"
She finds Scott standing in front of her.
"Sorry, were you saying something else?"
"No. I noticed you weren't with us. Are you okay?"
". . .It's just a lot, I guess."
"Yeah, I guess it would be."
They both seem unsure.
Unsure regarding this present moment and for their own, additional reasons.
Jean lowers her hand, finding an explanation: "I didn't get much sleep last night.
I can't even remember if I've eaten anything."
"You did. At least I'm pretty sure. You came late to lunch but I saw you getting something."
"That's right. I saw you too, before you had to go. . ." Their unsurety persists.
"It's been strange," Jean confides. "I'm having to readjust to things I didn't
even think about -sleep, hunger. Even time."
Scott's brows raise like he hadn't thought of that.
He keeps focused on Jean with a listening look.
"I know I should try and resist, to get back to a regular schedule,
but I think I'll go see if I can catch up on some rest."
"Oh-" he quickly masks a dashed hope for more of a conversation,
"-I'll see you later, then."
She affirms and leaves.
Scott heads for the door a moment leader.
Later, Jean wakes in her room to the sound of voices.
Muffled though they are by the closed door, they're still loud enough,
sounding like they're coming from right outside it.
"C'mon guys. . ." she says in a low tone not likely to carry, while she gets up to cross the room to it, "if you need something just knock alr--"
No one is on the other side.
Jean glances down the hallways, but no one is sight, either.
In fact, only now do a small group of students turn down this way. A couple looking to her as they pass by. Though their lips seem to be forming familiar words, what comes out of them doesn't sound like real language to Jean. She stares uncomprehendingly, but they've already turned away; moved along.
Jean massages her head.
Checking the time, she decides to head to the kitchen to fix herself an early dinner.
Afterward, from the perspective of Cyclops coming down the hall,
we spy Jean getting into the elevator.
She's gone down to the Danger Room.
A new addition to the X Mansion since last she walked these halls.
In fact, an addition directly related to her departure.
She's in the Control Room portion, leafing through a manual when we hear Scott's voice: "Interested?"
"How could I not be," lowering the manual, she meets him with an impressed look,
"I almost can't believe you built this."
Scott smiles unpretentiously.
"I was going to see what it could do but I don't know the passcode."
"It's Five-U-R-V-One-V-Four-Seven."
Jean takes on an air of play: "So does knowing it mean I'm part of some elite few?"
"You already were. All the X-Men are told."
She grows subdued; looking down. "Then maybe I shouldn't. . ." she runs her hand across the control panel, "that part of me is in the past."
Scott doesn't think so. "You came back with a mission, benefitting human and
mutantkind. It's like what you said about change; you don't need awesome power
to be an X-Man."
A quiet smile crosses Jean's face, her voice to match: "That's true."
". . .If you'd like to see it in action, Danger Class is in session tomorrow."
"Danger Class?"
"Well after. . everything that happened before you ascended, many of the students expressed interest in wanting to learn how to use their powers proactively. If not to
graduate to be X-Men some day at least to feel less vulnerable in unpredictable
situations."
Jean looks understanding of that.
"At first I wasn't sure about it." Scott looks out through the control room window to the Danger Room proper, "this place came out of unhealthy obsession. . .But you know,
I actually agree with Logan on this one; it beats the old method."
Jean's smile broadens some. Their earlier awkwardness long given
way to a more comfortable presence. "How is he, by the way?"
"He's Logan."
Jean laughs somewhat.
"He's struck up an odd friendship with Kurt, though."
"Odd how?"
"Well if I were to bet on which person Logan would actually wanna'
spend his time with, Kurt would've been my forth choice, at best."
Jean looks like she's thinking over what his choices may be.
She eyes him. "So when does Danger Class start?"
Next Day - Danger Class
From the control room, Scott works the panel, programming a sim.
"This disengages it instantly if something goes awry," he points out. "The sim does function on select voice commands from inside, however there are situations which can fetter that.
Best to have a failsafe. Usually I'll assign someone. . ." He meets her eye with a small smile,
"I thought I'd give you the option of taking that position today."
Jean smiles. "I'd like to."
So, as Cyclops joins his class in the Danger Room proper, the sim gets underway.
Jean is able to watch via the observation window turned into multiple screens, covering
the action from different angles. Most display the fully simulated environment, though
a couple show the action without the virtual reality overlay.
While she takes in the action, Jean's fingers begin to move restlessly. The movement
is almost absentminded, though soon Jean is checking her level of engagement.
And soon after that, she has to check something hasn't malfunctioned with the display.
Suddenly everything is too high of contrast; the colours are unreal. Jean looks to the section of the control panel she was shown works the monitors, and realizes the control panel itself looks unreal.
The sensation has grown overwhelming -it's auditory as well as visual.
Jean's on the cusp of leaving when she thinks to disengage the sim before she does so.
Inside, everyone looks around as the sim arrests and fades around them.
Cyclops: "Wait here."
He walks back to the control room expecting to ask Jean what's up.
Well he sort of gets his answer: she's gone.
He goes to the door, but she isn't in the hallway either.
One of the students hasn't "waited there".
"Is class already over, Cyclops?"
". . .No. Go rejoin the others."
They do, while Cyclops returns to the control panel. He speaks to them over comm:
"Alright we're gonna' run this one from the top. And guys, take this one seriously."
We find Jean back upstairs on the dorm level, looking disturbed. More so as finds herself outside Scott's -formerly hers and Scott's- room, instead of the one she presently occupies; as if she's walked here without thinking.
From down the hall comes a voice. "Ah, there you are."
"Jean?"
She turns to find- "Oh- Ororo. Sorry. I had something on my mind. . ."
Storm acknowledges whose door they're outside. "Or someone?"
"Or something else."
"Well if you are looking for Scott, right now is his Danger Class-"
"-I know, actually I just came from watching some of it. . ."
"Well I am glad you did not linger. I wanted to ask if you would like to
talk about whatever we desire over a cup of tea, as we used to?"
At this, Jean's disturbance falls away.
"I'd love that."
The weather master selects leaves from a particular plant. "I have recently cultivated this one. I think you will find the tea it produces somehow invigorating yet relaxing, like inviting
a fresh breeze in to clear out old air."
Jean: "Sounds like just the thing I need to clear my mind, right now. . .or anytime, I guess," she reflects. "Even when my telepathy's fully modulated, so often I still have more going
on in it than what's comfortable."
Ororo: "For that reason, I actually came to think of this as 'Jean's Plant'."
While Ororo goes about brewing the tea, Jean takes a closer look at the plant.
It's obviously been treated with tenderest care.
Ororo continues: "I would feel closer to you when I would tend it or drink its tea,
yet regretful. Could a simple thing have made any difference two years ago?
Was there something I missed."
Jean turns, laying a comforting hand on her friend's
arm, and giving a subtle, significant nod.
Ororo lays her hand over hers. "I know. But the mind goes where it will,
and it felt like an avenue not to avoid entirely."
"I can understand that."
Jean glances around the space. "A lot has grown since I've been away, hasn't it?"
Ororo watches while her soul sister takes in more of the plants, coming to pause
at a blighted one.
"One of the students brought that to me, hoping I could revive it. The blight is stubborn."
Jean moves her hand through the air around the leaves, as if trying to work magic.
Of course, the leaves remain in the state they were.
Ororo: "So what avenues has your mind taken you?"
Jean smiles somewhat: "Big question."
"Is home feeling like the alien plain?"
Jean has moved on to other plants, presently touching the leaves of one.
She smiles deeply. "No. Home feels just the same." Though gradually,
her expression shifts. "Mostly."
Ororo regards her with interest: "What is different?"
". . .I don't know -it's hard to explain.
Sometimes I think I'm not seeing what's really here."
Even as she says it, are the plants turning alien before her eyes?
"Wanting things to be more unchanged than you've found them?"
Jean comes back to attention.
"Silly, right? Considering I've come back to make change."
"So much about living exists outside of harmony," Ororo reflects as she goes
about pouring the tea, "which is why I try to cultivate it in any way I can."
Jean smiles again, stepping away from the plants to join her. "You've always had a good head, Ororo." She sits down opposite her with her tea: "So enough about me for a while. Spill it."
At the close of their visit.
Jean: "Thanks for this, Ororo. It was just what I needed."
Storm: "No matter what else may be going on in our lives,
let us not be strangers to such moments."
In complete agreement, Jean hugs her "sister" before heading for the staircase.
Back on the dormitory floor, Jean soon comes on Bobby and Rogue sharing a moment
-and a laugh- down one of the halls. She's about to move on another way when they do,
and Jean observes an odd sight as Bobby walks past a window in which sunlight streams.
It's as though his body's suddenly become made out of the light, or. . .
Some sort of trick of it off his ice powers? Had he even just used any?
Distortions of the hallways follow.
Down the hall Jean had been about to go, we see Scott now walking up.
Noticing her at the junction, he closes the distance. He's been looking for her.
"Jean. What happened before?"
Just ahead of his speech, Jean turns her head at the movement. She sees him yet
almost not recognizably -his appearance is off. When his voice comes, it's like an
auditory kaleidoscope, akin to the visual one from before -Split, yet not mirrored;
the patterns don't line up:
"Jean. 'Jean! What
is it?'
What happened before?" 'What's
happening to you, Jean?' 'Jean
-what's wrong?!'
When Jean makes the effort to speak through the mire,
her own voice rings in her ears likewise:
"I need to see Xavier." ' ... But I'm
afraid-' 'Scott- help me.
I can't stop it.'
Medical Bay
Jean is laying on the examination table while Xavier finishes his telepathic probe.
"We can all rest assured, no one else has been in your mind.
What you've been experiencing are a kind of sensory seizure."
Scott: "What's causing them?"
"At this time, I can't be certain. I suspect they're a side-effect of
Jean's return. Your mind needing to reacclimatize to living-"
Jean (air of irony): "-a regular life?"
She sighs. "So long as my mind isn't being infiltrated I can deal with this.
But if the seizures grow any more frequent I won't be able to function."
Xavier: "You've been back not even a week. Perhaps you'll only have to consider yourself
a convalescent for a few days for this to sort itself out. If not, you could try anti-seizure medication, though given the mutational origins that might not be effective."
By now sitting up on the exam table, Jean takes that in; perturbed.
"If I'm going to be convalescing, I think I'd prefer to in my own room."
She shifts off the table.
Scott: "I'll walk you there."
Jean seems about to decline, but accepts.
Outside Jean's room.
"Thanks."
She reaches for the handle of the door, but her hand pauses on it.
Jean sighs again; bothered. ". . .trouble is the last thing I wanted to bring back with me."
Scott regards her quietly for a moment,
before tentatively bringing his hand to hers.
Jean slips it into his with an appreciative squeeze,
and smile. "I'll see you later."
She lets go and heads in,
leaving Scott on the other side of the door with his own troubled look.
Following day, Ororo joins Jean in her room with breakfast.
Jean: "If I'm being honest, after how I've been living. . .free from the confines of any physical space. . .the thought of limiting myself to this room for even a few hours has me feeling stir crazy. Of course, I'll try anything to get on top of the seizures."
Ororo: "I have always thought 'recouping' should not involve being 'couped up'.
Why not free yourself of what confines you can?"
The remainder of their breakfast is taken on the grounds, where afterward a walk
is enjoyed. First together, then Jean on her own as Ororo goes off to her tasks for
the day. Spending nearly all of hers in the fresh air, and seizure free, Jean returns
to the Mansion at night feeling more optimistic, and quite ready for sleep.
However. . . .
She wakes in the night, seeming disoriented in her own room.
In Scott's, he's awoken by semi-distant sounds of clunking.
Instinctively, he goes to check on Jean.
Pausing outside her door, it takes less then a minute for him to hear something else
clearly coming from inside -something sounding like a collapse.
He goes in at once: "Jean?"
"Scott?"
He's found and turned on the light switch, though Jean -down on the floor next to
an overturned piece of furniture- looks around as though she can't see, speaking
in a moaning tone: "I don't know where I am -I don't know what's solid ground."
"I'm here, I've got you," he's gotten down with her, holding her openly.
Jean at once looks at and past him, eyes wide: ". . .What is this place. . ?"
Back in the Medical Bay
Once again Jean is laying on the exam table; eyes closed.
She opens them for only a second before shutting them again.
When she speaks, at least she sounds back to herself: "Every time I open my eyes it's
like I'm seeing through someone else's, though it's not like I'm not in another's mind. . .
what could be going on?"
Even before the question Xavier reacts as though something's been set into place for him.
Scott: "What are you thinking, Professor?"
"I have been building a theory. With your current experience, Jean,
I feel it has now been confirmed."
Xavier begins to explain:
"In going beyond this world, namely as a mutant rising to something celestial, your
mind was expanded across a vast space. . .far more worlds, more minds, even possibly,
more realities. . .You said you left your higher power behind, yet I believe you are
still connected, and that residual connection is causing a fragmentation."
Jean (still laying with eyes closed): "So how can I make my separation complete?
At least complete enough to stop this."
"I believe with the aid of Cerebro, I can go in and defragment your mind. In essence, untangle and collate the pieces of your proper reality, while pruning away the
branched awarenesses. But such a procedure will be intense. Less for my mind,
being only the operator, than for yours through which everything will run. Years
cycling through in moments, the contrast and volume of your life dialed up as
they go. . .It may well be too much for one mind to bear."
"Is there a chance it could still level off just with time?"
Jean tries opening her eyes again, though it's clear she's still working to see straight.
". . .there's more likely a chance, given it's pattern thus far, that time will result in
severing the connection to your singular awareness. . ."
Scott looks between them, heavily disturbed.
He grasps- "a chance, so waiting it out is still an option."
"It is. Though reinstalling would be a different matter than resetting.
The line between these matters could be crossed suddenly, and at full disclosure, Jean,
I feel less confident of success with the former."
Jean (frayed): "So I risk losing myself completely, meanwhile being
a disruption. No, Scott- I don't like those odds or circumstance.
I'll have to trust my mind can handle the reset procedure."
Some graveness giving way to encouragement, Xavier just starts to say
"If any mind can-"
when Scott -his own concern giving way to thought- cuts in:
"-what if you had a second mind to run the process through?"
Jean catches on: "Like a second engine."
"Exactly."
Xavier turns this idea over in his mind.
He sees the possibility (yes): "That could work."
"But wait- what would the risk be to Scott's mind?"
Scott looks like that isn't his priority, though he doesn't cut-in.
"Technically the same as to yours. In fact if it were almost anyone else, I wouldn't consider it. But given your history. . .your unique psychic rapport and what amount of your life you've shared, I feel strongly that risk would be negated."
So we begin.
A second exam table has been placed beside Jean's, on which Scott now lies.
Apparatus like electrodes on each of their temples.
Jean reaches across the short distance, finding Scott's hand.
Xavier has moved to where he'll be conducting the procedure - Cerebro.
We see the process as a splash panel.
We see Jean, her mind: there are "bubbles" of moments, events, timelines, of her past -their past, her present -theirs, the future? On Earth, in the cosmos, it's just as Xavier described: bold colours, some bubbles fade away while others come into sharper relief.
Focus-on/closer-on Jean in a series of inset panels
various micro expressions intermittently cross her face,
Discordant mixture of sounds -- flashes like electricity
gradually the sounds subside, the electrical activity falls into a natural rhythm,
until finally....
finally...
..Presentness
Jean opens her eyes.
Sitting up she looks around. Not like she's waiting for distortions to appear; she knows
she can trust the stillness now. Even in this limited space, she's seeing her world anew.
She shifts her attention to Scott, their hands still linked.
Scott (somewhat groggy): ". . .okay?"
"Are you?"
He sits up carefully. "Only a really bad headache. I've still had worse."
Xavier rolls in, smiling: "I have a tea that can help with that."
"Thanks. If no monitoring needs to happen, I'd just prefer to lie down-"
Jean: "-in your own room?" She sports a soft, knowing look.
Xavier: "No monitoring necessary. I observed no damage before I came out.
By all accounts the procedure was a success."
They remove the electrodes from the sides of their heads and get off the tables.
Jean reciprocates Scott's care from earlier: "I'll walk you there."
Unlike Jean had been, Scott isn't reluctant to accept.
As they pass Xavier, Jean bends down to embrace him.
"Thank you, Professor."
Hallway - Outside Scott's Room.
"I'm positive I'll be fine."
"That's a relief."
"I'm glad the procedure worked."
"It might've gone differently without you. . ." Jean looks at him directly, speaking in a soft,
meaningful tone of voice, "your devotion's always meant so much to me, Scott. I hope you've known that."
There's something in her disposition. She's treading carefully.
It takes Scott a moment to respond. Slowed perhaps by his headache, or something
else weighing on his mind. . .Then, only a small smile before he turns towards door.
Jean looks like she'd been anticipating something else.
Just as well. "Good night. Or good morning, I guess."
"Right. You too."
Jean turns to leave.
One step inside, his hand still on the handle, Scott's paused.
". . .Jean." He steps back to look at her.
"Later, when this headache's subsided, can we talk?"
". . .Sure.
I'll see you then."
On that, he goes in.
While Jean goes on.
The new dawn comes with a refreshing rain.
Taking up Xavier's offer of tea, we see Jean's joined him in his office.
"I returned by choice, but also from. . ."
Xavier (lightly): "A magnetic pull?"
Jean gives a hum of a laugh. "Maybe if I was Magneto."
She finds her wording: "In some way, I feel there's some purpose to my being here.
Beyond my own, I mean."
"I always knew you would become more than you ever saw yourself being."
Another hum, thinking back: "More than mutant?"
Xavier turns more sober: ". . .on a basic level, I can understand why so many fear us.
We are living reminders that anything is possible, and 'anything' can be intimidating."
"When I stop to think of our potential, even I feel afraid. . .I think most of us do."
Xavier (renewed content): "I would feel more afraid if you didn't."
Transition to. . .
Scott laying on his bed, the window partially opened to the cleansing air.
We ease-in on his ruby-quartz glasses. . .easing-out on his visor.
No longer do we see him laying in repose in a familiar room,
but suspended and enervated in one unseen --he, and us,
kept in the dark.
a fresh breeze in to clear out old air."
Jean: "Sounds like just the thing I need to clear my mind, right now. . .or anytime, I guess," she reflects. "Even when my telepathy's fully modulated, so often I still have more going
on in it than what's comfortable."
Ororo: "For that reason, I actually came to think of this as 'Jean's Plant'."
While Ororo goes about brewing the tea, Jean takes a closer look at the plant.
It's obviously been treated with tenderest care.
Ororo continues: "I would feel closer to you when I would tend it or drink its tea,
yet regretful. Could a simple thing have made any difference two years ago?
Was there something I missed."
Jean turns, laying a comforting hand on her friend's
arm, and giving a subtle, significant nod.
Ororo lays her hand over hers. "I know. But the mind goes where it will,
and it felt like an avenue not to avoid entirely."
"I can understand that."
Jean glances around the space. "A lot has grown since I've been away, hasn't it?"
Ororo watches while her soul sister takes in more of the plants, coming to pause
at a blighted one.
"One of the students brought that to me, hoping I could revive it. The blight is stubborn."
Jean moves her hand through the air around the leaves, as if trying to work magic.
Of course, the leaves remain in the state they were.
Ororo: "So what avenues has your mind taken you?"
Jean smiles somewhat: "Big question."
"Is home feeling like the alien plain?"
Jean has moved on to other plants, presently touching the leaves of one.
She smiles deeply. "No. Home feels just the same." Though gradually,
her expression shifts. "Mostly."
Ororo regards her with interest: "What is different?"
". . .I don't know -it's hard to explain.
Sometimes I think I'm not seeing what's really here."
Even as she says it, are the plants turning alien before her eyes?
"Wanting things to be more unchanged than you've found them?"
Jean comes back to attention.
"Silly, right? Considering I've come back to make change."
"So much about living exists outside of harmony," Ororo reflects as she goes
about pouring the tea, "which is why I try to cultivate it in any way I can."
Jean smiles again, stepping away from the plants to join her. "You've always had a good head, Ororo." She sits down opposite her with her tea: "So enough about me for a while. Spill it."
At the close of their visit.
Jean: "Thanks for this, Ororo. It was just what I needed."
Storm: "No matter what else may be going on in our lives,
let us not be strangers to such moments."
In complete agreement, Jean hugs her "sister" before heading for the staircase.
Back on the dormitory floor, Jean soon comes on Bobby and Rogue sharing a moment
-and a laugh- down one of the halls. She's about to move on another way when they do,
and Jean observes an odd sight as Bobby walks past a window in which sunlight streams.
It's as though his body's suddenly become made out of the light, or. . .
Some sort of trick of it off his ice powers? Had he even just used any?
Distortions of the hallways follow.
Down the hall Jean had been about to go, we see Scott now walking up.
Noticing her at the junction, he closes the distance. He's been looking for her.
"Jean. What happened before?"
Just ahead of his speech, Jean turns her head at the movement. She sees him yet
almost not recognizably -his appearance is off. When his voice comes, it's like an
auditory kaleidoscope, akin to the visual one from before -Split, yet not mirrored;
the patterns don't line up:
"Jean. 'Jean! What
is it?'
What happened before?" 'What's
happening to you, Jean?' 'Jean
-what's wrong?!'
When Jean makes the effort to speak through the mire,
her own voice rings in her ears likewise:
"I need to see Xavier." ' ... But I'm
afraid-' 'Scott- help me.
I can't stop it.'
Medical Bay
Jean is laying on the examination table while Xavier finishes his telepathic probe.
"We can all rest assured, no one else has been in your mind.
What you've been experiencing are a kind of sensory seizure."
Scott: "What's causing them?"
"At this time, I can't be certain. I suspect they're a side-effect of
Jean's return. Your mind needing to reacclimatize to living-"
Jean (air of irony): "-a regular life?"
She sighs. "So long as my mind isn't being infiltrated I can deal with this.
But if the seizures grow any more frequent I won't be able to function."
Xavier: "You've been back not even a week. Perhaps you'll only have to consider yourself
a convalescent for a few days for this to sort itself out. If not, you could try anti-seizure medication, though given the mutational origins that might not be effective."
By now sitting up on the exam table, Jean takes that in; perturbed.
"If I'm going to be convalescing, I think I'd prefer to in my own room."
She shifts off the table.
Scott: "I'll walk you there."
Jean seems about to decline, but accepts.
Outside Jean's room.
"Thanks."
She reaches for the handle of the door, but her hand pauses on it.
Jean sighs again; bothered. ". . .trouble is the last thing I wanted to bring back with me."
Scott regards her quietly for a moment,
before tentatively bringing his hand to hers.
Jean slips it into his with an appreciative squeeze,
and smile. "I'll see you later."
She lets go and heads in,
leaving Scott on the other side of the door with his own troubled look.
Following day, Ororo joins Jean in her room with breakfast.
Jean: "If I'm being honest, after how I've been living. . .free from the confines of any physical space. . .the thought of limiting myself to this room for even a few hours has me feeling stir crazy. Of course, I'll try anything to get on top of the seizures."
Ororo: "I have always thought 'recouping' should not involve being 'couped up'.
Why not free yourself of what confines you can?"
The remainder of their breakfast is taken on the grounds, where afterward a walk
is enjoyed. First together, then Jean on her own as Ororo goes off to her tasks for
the day. Spending nearly all of hers in the fresh air, and seizure free, Jean returns
to the Mansion at night feeling more optimistic, and quite ready for sleep.
However. . . .
She wakes in the night, seeming disoriented in her own room.
In Scott's, he's awoken by semi-distant sounds of clunking.
Instinctively, he goes to check on Jean.
Pausing outside her door, it takes less then a minute for him to hear something else
clearly coming from inside -something sounding like a collapse.
He goes in at once: "Jean?"
"Scott?"
He's found and turned on the light switch, though Jean -down on the floor next to
an overturned piece of furniture- looks around as though she can't see, speaking
in a moaning tone: "I don't know where I am -I don't know what's solid ground."
"I'm here, I've got you," he's gotten down with her, holding her openly.
Jean at once looks at and past him, eyes wide: ". . .What is this place. . ?"
Back in the Medical Bay
Once again Jean is laying on the exam table; eyes closed.
She opens them for only a second before shutting them again.
When she speaks, at least she sounds back to herself: "Every time I open my eyes it's
like I'm seeing through someone else's, though it's not like I'm not in another's mind. . .
what could be going on?"
Even before the question Xavier reacts as though something's been set into place for him.
Scott: "What are you thinking, Professor?"
"I have been building a theory. With your current experience, Jean,
I feel it has now been confirmed."
Xavier begins to explain:
"In going beyond this world, namely as a mutant rising to something celestial, your
mind was expanded across a vast space. . .far more worlds, more minds, even possibly,
more realities. . .You said you left your higher power behind, yet I believe you are
still connected, and that residual connection is causing a fragmentation."
Jean (still laying with eyes closed): "So how can I make my separation complete?
At least complete enough to stop this."
"I believe with the aid of Cerebro, I can go in and defragment your mind. In essence, untangle and collate the pieces of your proper reality, while pruning away the
branched awarenesses. But such a procedure will be intense. Less for my mind,
being only the operator, than for yours through which everything will run. Years
cycling through in moments, the contrast and volume of your life dialed up as
they go. . .It may well be too much for one mind to bear."
"Is there a chance it could still level off just with time?"
Jean tries opening her eyes again, though it's clear she's still working to see straight.
". . .there's more likely a chance, given it's pattern thus far, that time will result in
severing the connection to your singular awareness. . ."
Scott looks between them, heavily disturbed.
He grasps- "a chance, so waiting it out is still an option."
"It is. Though reinstalling would be a different matter than resetting.
The line between these matters could be crossed suddenly, and at full disclosure, Jean,
I feel less confident of success with the former."
Jean (frayed): "So I risk losing myself completely, meanwhile being
a disruption. No, Scott- I don't like those odds or circumstance.
I'll have to trust my mind can handle the reset procedure."
Some graveness giving way to encouragement, Xavier just starts to say
"If any mind can-"
when Scott -his own concern giving way to thought- cuts in:
"-what if you had a second mind to run the process through?"
Jean catches on: "Like a second engine."
"Exactly."
Xavier turns this idea over in his mind.
He sees the possibility (yes): "That could work."
"But wait- what would the risk be to Scott's mind?"
Scott looks like that isn't his priority, though he doesn't cut-in.
"Technically the same as to yours. In fact if it were almost anyone else, I wouldn't consider it. But given your history. . .your unique psychic rapport and what amount of your life you've shared, I feel strongly that risk would be negated."
So we begin.
A second exam table has been placed beside Jean's, on which Scott now lies.
Apparatus like electrodes on each of their temples.
Jean reaches across the short distance, finding Scott's hand.
Xavier has moved to where he'll be conducting the procedure - Cerebro.
We see the process as a splash panel.
We see Jean, her mind: there are "bubbles" of moments, events, timelines, of her past -their past, her present -theirs, the future? On Earth, in the cosmos, it's just as Xavier described: bold colours, some bubbles fade away while others come into sharper relief.
Focus-on/closer-on Jean in a series of inset panels
various micro expressions intermittently cross her face,
Discordant mixture of sounds -- flashes like electricity
gradually the sounds subside, the electrical activity falls into a natural rhythm,
until finally....
finally...
..Presentness
Jean opens her eyes.
Sitting up she looks around. Not like she's waiting for distortions to appear; she knows
she can trust the stillness now. Even in this limited space, she's seeing her world anew.
She shifts her attention to Scott, their hands still linked.
Scott (somewhat groggy): ". . .okay?"
"Are you?"
He sits up carefully. "Only a really bad headache. I've still had worse."
Xavier rolls in, smiling: "I have a tea that can help with that."
"Thanks. If no monitoring needs to happen, I'd just prefer to lie down-"
Jean: "-in your own room?" She sports a soft, knowing look.
Xavier: "No monitoring necessary. I observed no damage before I came out.
By all accounts the procedure was a success."
They remove the electrodes from the sides of their heads and get off the tables.
Jean reciprocates Scott's care from earlier: "I'll walk you there."
Unlike Jean had been, Scott isn't reluctant to accept.
As they pass Xavier, Jean bends down to embrace him.
"Thank you, Professor."
Hallway - Outside Scott's Room.
"I'm positive I'll be fine."
"That's a relief."
"I'm glad the procedure worked."
"It might've gone differently without you. . ." Jean looks at him directly, speaking in a soft,
meaningful tone of voice, "your devotion's always meant so much to me, Scott. I hope you've known that."
There's something in her disposition. She's treading carefully.
It takes Scott a moment to respond. Slowed perhaps by his headache, or something
else weighing on his mind. . .Then, only a small smile before he turns towards door.
Jean looks like she'd been anticipating something else.
Just as well. "Good night. Or good morning, I guess."
"Right. You too."
Jean turns to leave.
One step inside, his hand still on the handle, Scott's paused.
". . .Jean." He steps back to look at her.
"Later, when this headache's subsided, can we talk?"
". . .Sure.
I'll see you then."
On that, he goes in.
While Jean goes on.
The new dawn comes with a refreshing rain.
Taking up Xavier's offer of tea, we see Jean's joined him in his office.
"I returned by choice, but also from. . ."
Xavier (lightly): "A magnetic pull?"
Jean gives a hum of a laugh. "Maybe if I was Magneto."
She finds her wording: "In some way, I feel there's some purpose to my being here.
Beyond my own, I mean."
"I always knew you would become more than you ever saw yourself being."
Another hum, thinking back: "More than mutant?"
Xavier turns more sober: ". . .on a basic level, I can understand why so many fear us.
We are living reminders that anything is possible, and 'anything' can be intimidating."
"When I stop to think of our potential, even I feel afraid. . .I think most of us do."
Xavier (renewed content): "I would feel more afraid if you didn't."
Transition to. . .
Scott laying on his bed, the window partially opened to the cleansing air.
We ease-in on his ruby-quartz glasses. . .easing-out on his visor.
No longer do we see him laying in repose in a familiar room,
but suspended and enervated in one unseen --he, and us,
kept in the dark.
⛓👁
Flashes
A family in a cockpit,
Cyclops and Jean Grey in one.
The mother instructs her sons:
"Hold onto each other!"
Cyclops: "Hold tight!"
The parachute fails, young Scott slows their descent
surprisingly, by blasting for the first time in his life.
Jean's telekinesis failing, adult Cyclops
blasts measuredly to slow their descent.
blasts measuredly to slow their descent.
But the landing doesn't go as planned
if the plane's destruction hadn't lit the parachute....
If the jet's destruction hadn't knocked them apart....
"ALEX!"
A brother lost.
"JEAN!"
...."Scott...."
...."Scott...."
Blackout.
. . . .when Cyclops comes back to full consciousness, he's still in darkness.
Is it the room he's in or his eyes? He can't tell. He can feel his visor is still on; doesn't feel like anything else is.
In fact, something's off --the jacket of his uniform.
Feels like the arm of his undershirt has also been torn or cut away.
He realizes he's on his knees; his hands are shackled behind him,
and the shackles seem connected to chains in the wall behind him.
Gradually, he tries to stand.
He's actually not restricted so much that he can't, though he learns the extent of his restraints when he's arrested within the distance of one stride. By the way he felt the pull on his wrists he can tell he's in a corner --and the chains seem crisscrossed, his left hand connected to the wall to his right and vice-versa.
Suddenly he becomes cognizant of nearing footsteps.
The sliding-open of some mechanized door answers one question for him:
it lets in just enough light to see.
Whether from some trick of the light itself or the oxidation of time,
his metal contained chamber is revealed to have an eerie green patina.
A figure stands shadowed in the threshold.
Cyclops fixes them with a glare: "Where's Jean?"
"Hold that thought."
The voice sounds like it's coming from a point further back than the visible figure,
who presently closes the short distance between himself and Cyclops and forces
him back down onto his knees by way of force applied to one of his shoulders.
Another figure has come in, clad identically to the first in what appears to be a black lab coat.
Cyclops notices the pockets of this one are bulging.
He tries to see with what as the second figure comes to stand behind him,
but the first forces him to face front. He can just discern the shadow of someone else
still standing outside the room. The enigmatic figure speaks again:
"Best not try to seek anyone while your eyes must hide."
Cyclops feels his visor being removed.
Keeping his eyes shut, he listens.
There's a sound like the door opening, except smaller and closer-by.
Something else is set around his head, over his eyes. It feels like a construct of thin metal. The front part actually sits right over his eyelids.
Enigmatic Voice: "Now, what was your question?"
". .What have you done with Jean?"
"Would you like to see?"
Horror sets in--"NO-!"--no use--
--KKZK-ZHOOOOOM!!!!
The contraption has forced his eyes to open--at the same time his handler has forced his head down--
--he's blasting into a hole roughly 10x10" that's been revealed in the floor--
--though all Cyclops can make out of what's inside is a screen which appears
to be absorbing his blast.
It isn't another containment room.
It isn't Jean.
After a decided length of time, the contraption is reversed; forcing his eyes closed.
Cyclops breathes in a settling way.
Enigmatic Voice (enjoying this): "Baseline established.
Time for Test # 1. Perish?"
Cyclops hears someone else enter the room, but only just; unlike the others
this one seems to have stopped some distance in front of him.
Then things get strange.
. . his body slackens as it feels like the power to his muscles has been shut off.
"Uhn--" he feels the scientists holding his body in a certain position, then he
feels next-to-nothing at all--only extremely dulled, residual sensations where
the scientists have their hold on him.
He even can't hear--some foggy, wavering tone being all he can discern of the
Enigmatic Voice speaking again.
Has his positioning changed? It's hard to tell.
Now he's blasting again--evidenced only by a rushing that sounds more like it's coming from inside his own head than from the greater discharge of his blast--which he also can't see, save for a distant wavering light.
Like watching a light show through closed eyes, except less vivid.
That tone of the Enigmatic Voice again; some different kind of nearly-lost sensation concentrated at a minute spot in Cyclops' arm, tone again.
What gradually follows. . .
. . .is the return of his muscle function.
One of the scientists eases off as Cyclops regains the ability to hold his own body up.
His senses soon follow--
--in almost blinding and deafening relief as he's kept blasting for a moment or so more.
Then,
Enigmatic Voice: "That will do-"
-as it will for our current scene as we transition to one far away in distance,
and a littler earlier in time-
and a littler earlier in time-
Professor Xavier: "-do for now."
From the Danger's Room's Control Bay, he watches as the members of the X-Men involved in the day's training filter out, until only their leader remains.
Xavier moves to join him in the main room.
Cyclops: "If this had been a real situation not a simulated scenario,
I would've had more information and arranged the team differently."
Xavier (matter-of-fact): "You've undertaken enough real missions to know better; circumstances don't always allow for such educated choices."
Cyclops sighs.
Xavier checks in: "Perhaps we scheduled this session too soon?"
"No. . .I'm feeling optimum." Though Cyclops' tone of voice and stance -hands on his sides, staring down- belies optimum feelings.
As if he were standing in question to himself: 'That being true, why didn't this go better?'
Xavier eyes him perspicaciously, then: "In any case, I'll expect to read what
was the deciding factor against your success in your after-action report."
Repositioning himself in the direction of the door, Professor X wheels out.
Cyclops broods a little longer.
Meanwhile, away from Westchester Country, a meeting is underway between the
New York Police Department and The Association for the Betterment of Mutant Citizens.
In attendance, NYPD's Chief Grymholt, ABMC's Warren Worthington III A.K.A. Angel,
Dr. Hank McCoy A.K.A. Beast, and Jean Grey, who presently address the chief:
"The way your department's new focus on getting mutant criminals off the streets
is being presented, makes it sound as though criminals are exclusively mutants."
"Well to be sure, mutants are their own class of criminal, and continue to prove
themselves particularly degenerate."
"Isn't it more accurate to say, Chief Grymholt, that these mutants continue to exemplify
the environment in which they presently live? Their powers manifest and more often
than not they become ostracized. Some even by their own families. Their educational
paths become compromised while any prospect to make a decent living vanishes,
if they're not also thrown out of their homes."
"So they have the right to commit these crimes?"
"That's not what I'm saying. But when the rights they should have are denied them,
how else are they to live?"
Warren: "I've been able to review the case files of your recent detainees,
Chief Grymholt, and their crimes are petty in nature.
Beast: "If I may share my two cents on the matter, hard time hardly seems the rational response to purloined provisions."
"I understand your sympathies," -Beast and Warren, both obvious mutants, exchange a look- "but," the chief gives a mirthless chuckle, "try telling the storekeeper who's dealing with structural and inventory damages that the crime was 'petty'."
Jean: "In any case, these are people who require help, not incarceration.
If that can be provided it'll be shown these are members of society, not menaces.
He fixes her with a rather skeptical stare: "So exactly what are you proposing, Dr. Grey?"
"A halfway house for mutants," -there's that mirthless chuckle again; the chief shakes
his head while Jean continues- "with resources in place to redirect them away from
criminal activity."
Beast (you know...): "With opportunity for gainful employment, reimbursement
can begin on those damages you mentioned before."
Fixing a stare on Beast, then shifting it between them with all the personality of a driver
reluctant to yield to coming traffic, Chief Grymholt turns this over in his mind a minute.
"I'll concede to reasonable points. Yet just where and how would you propose getting
such a facility? There are many other, more well-founded places the city has to put
its money, and space doesn't grow on trees."
Warren smiles like he was waiting for this question: "The money and space are already taken care of. My family owns a vacant building, purchased some time back as an investment which was given over to me. It's already adequate enough, requiring only a few modifications which can be completed concurrent with occupancy."
Well they seem to have thought of everything, haven't they?
"...Very well. The responsibility of the mutant detainees will be considered yours.
Assuming you can keep them under control long enough to see reason; they can
keep the collars for transport but after that, well, Trask Industries' contract is only
with law enforcement for the present."
For the first time all meeting, Beast, Warren and Jean are thrown.
Warren: "What do you mean 'the collars'?"
The chief is surprised: "How do you think we've come to collar all these mutants?
By literally collaring them. Trask Industries latest technology -Power-Inhibiting."
Beast: "My stars! We're not animals."
Off Jean's disconcerted face,
we cut-back-to the Mansion.
Scott is now on his way to a certain location, papers in hand, when a familiar
young voice pauses him: "Professor Summers. Hi. Are you busy?"
"Well that depends." He glances from Holo to down the hall,
where the door to Professor Xavier's office is presently closed.
She gets it. "Oh- I just want to ask you something."
"Then you've got me."
He holds his hands behind his back in an unhurried manner.
Smiling, Holo tries not to delay even so: "I was just wondering some things about your powers? If you don't mind answering. After -well -you know. Everything*..." she hurries past that, "I kind of got really interested in learning how everyone's mutation works for them. You know Dr. Grey's been showing me some of her X-gene work.."
*What is Holo referencing?
You'll find out if you stick with the adventure! ~EffeX
You'll find out if you stick with the adventure! ~EffeX
Scott nods, indeed aware of this fact.
"Well she told me about yours, after I asked," Holo seems a little embarrassed to admit that, but goes on, "and so, you absorb energy from the sun like a plant? I mean Dr. Grey didn't say it THAT way."
Scott smiles a little at Holo's manner. "Well I suppose it's something of a similar process to photosynthesis, though more like an engine with the fuel being certain photons; not strictly sunlight."
"Right," her embarrassment returns, "Dr. Grey said that. I think it's fascinating anyway how you absorb stuff that gives heat, but your blasts don't. And so um, behind your glasses or visor you're like, shooting all the time, right?"
(unfortunately) "Yes."
"So then, aren't you like, spending more energy than you're getting? Since there's less of that photon stuff in the dark, right?" Her brow furrows, like she doesn't understand 100% about "that photon stuff", but in any case- "Or even if there isn't and you're getting something all the time, you're also shooting all the time, so shouldn't that balance out into no blasts?
"Smart question. Presumably it isn't a 1-to-1 ratio. Simplified, think of it
like every one particle supplying me with enough energy for ten blasts.
Holo nods, looking like she understands that much.
Scott adds: "We're also not sure if my mutation developed all at once. The absorbing
part of it might've occurred well ahead of the blast part, giving me a head start."
"Oh yeah! Like you had -or have some, um, what is it called...."
"Energy reserves?"
"Yeah, in reserve."
While we hear a door open, Scott smiles at Holo. "You have a good head for this."
Holo beams. "Professor Grey said we'll start figuring out my powers soon."
"Good," he starts to shift towards Xavier's office,
"a deeper understanding of your own powers is a good thing to have."
Pleased, Holo departs with a wave.
And turning properly, Scott finds who just exited Xavier's office-
"Hi, Emma."
"Goodbye, Scott."
"You're leaving early today?"
"I'm leaving full stop. We'll have to take our sessions up back at my practice. That is,"
she glances back at Xavier, "if you still trust them after your professor fills you in."
Reverting attention to Scott, she seems contented by his 'why wouldn't I?' expression.
She strides off towards the entryway before he can verbalize the question,
if he was going to, and Scott walks up to Xavier; now also out of his office
observing the departure. "What just happened, Professor?"
"Emma Frost's empath abilities not only allow her to read others' emotions but to manipulate them.
She was doing so on some of the students -innocuously, if that can be said, though any such practice
can not be tolerated."
Staring towards the door, Scott's both in complete agreement and disbelief.
"I'm positive she never tried that in any of our sessions."
Xavier gives a "hm" as though making a note of that, or merely finding it interesting.
On her way out, Emma almost collides with Jean on her way in.
Jean: "Oh- excuse me."
"Telepathy on the fritz today?" the blonde quips.
"What?"
"Well, Scott knows where to find me if you ever do require a mind adjustment."
She suddenly seems discomfited--though only for a second. Mysteriously smiling in the next.
"Maybe a couples session? Until then."
"Goodbye, Emma." Jean's not sure what to make of her.
More so, Jean's still affected by the events of the meeting.
Scott (as she walks up): "Let me guess, it didn't go well."
"Worse."
The trio reconvenes in Xavier's Office.
"...we told him we definitely won't be making use of the collars.
We're trying to remove restrictions on mutants, not introduce more."
These new developments have them all disturbed.
Scott: "How do the collars inhibit mutant powers?"
Jean: "Right now only Trask Industries has that answer. Warren wants to meet
with them, while Hank is seeing if he can borrow one from the police to analyze.
We're not even sure how many they have."
Scott: "I knew there had to be something behind NYPD's latest enterprise."
Xavier: "Addressing this is certainly a priority.
However, there exists another matter I was hoping you two would undertake."
They're all ears.
"There is a new anomaly I've noticed through Cerebro. An area with curious mutant signatures, though also a recurrent psychic disruption that is preventing me from getting a clear read. I know you're still tentative* towards standard missions, Jean, but your telepathy will be necessary for pinpointing the sources of each."
*For reasons relating to no longer wishing to use her
powers in combative situations. At least not typically. ~EffeX
powers in combative situations. At least not typically. ~EffeX
Jean nods. "That's fine."
"When do we head out?"
Cut-to Cyclops & Jean Grey in the cockpit of the X-Jet,
soaring through the skies.
Jean: "I missed this."
Looking over, Cyclops finds her looking out the window.
"Still compares to views you've seen?"
She turns her smile his way. "I couldn't see those with you."
Getting it now, Cyclops smiles back before reverting attention to flying; or so it seems.
"If it gets to be a little while between missions, we should be sure to take this 'bird
out for some test flights." Built-in pretext for stealing away together.
Jean's smile spreads, briefly. She hesitates to break the moment, but now's as good a
time to check-in as to connect: ". . .I haven't asked you how the training session went?"
He answers at length, face clouded over.
". . .it was different. Difficult. .using the Danger Room as intended again.
It-" his voice catches. He swallows. ". . .I wish it'd happened almost anywhere else."
He wishes more than that.
Jean looks down at her hands, turning one over.
"If I had the power. . ."
He knows.
. . .Jean reaches her hand across the aisle.
He moves his to meet it.
Though shortly, she shifts as though distracted by something.
This doesn't go unnoticed by him. "What is it?"
". . I think we're here."
That doesn't sound right; Cyclops checks the dash.
"We shouldn't be coming up on the coordinates yet for another--"
--Suddenly they hit turbulence
--worse!
"We've been hit by something!"
He doesn't mean physically -all of the electronics of the Jet have shut down,
--as though by an EMP!
"Manual controls are also down--" their attempts to still pilot are met with futility;
including Jean's try at telekinetically operating the system.
She shifts power concentration to outside the jet, trying to lift it in order to slow
their now rapid descent "--I don't have it!"
Cyclops attention has whipped to the altimetre "--forget it--we're ejecting!"
Jean looks to him to see how he means--
--VZHOOOM--KRRSSSHHHH!!!!
--Cyclops blasts them a calculated exit,
then reaches across to Jean with one arm while preparing to disconnect
his seatbelt with the other.
Jean does the same; reaching towards him.
With a nod, they perform the action in sync--and Jean manages at least to
use her powers to ensure they don't lose each other as they're sucked clear
out into the sky.
Holding fast to each other, Jean now concentrates on trying to use her powers to slow
their own descent--little difference --it's telekinetic turbulence!
"Hold tight!" Cyclops holds tighter with one arm at the same time he brings a hand
to his visor, countering their rate of descent with his blast; his plan from the get-go
--but it's not over yet!
Shrapnel from the now crashed jet takes them off guard --and out of each other's arms!
Separately they go down.
Blackout.