Chapter 31: The Torrent (X2)
The morning came for them all.
Jean climbed reluctantly into consciousness from a night of vivid dreams, dreams of fire and exultation. She reached for Scott, but found herself alone in a tent in the woods. I am coming for you, my love, she thought. She could feel her power rippling in her like a restless sea, more present and potent than ever before. She didn’t know what the changes meant, but if she was a stronger Jean Grey than she had been before, she would use that strength to save Scott and the Professor, or die trying.
Kitty awoke alone. She had kissed Peter one last time before he went on guard duty at 4 a.m. and then gone back to sleep. With the arrival of the new day, she felt both wholly different and utterly the same. She showered and dressed and went downstairs where she knew she would be needed. Losing her virginity, surviving the attack on her home — whatever the reason, she felt she had left her childhood behind.
Rogue awoke from a dreamless sleep. Her headache was gone and she felt renewed. She loved sleeping in the cool night air as she had often during her time on the road. She remembered what it had felt like to be that runaway girl. Sometimes she had been terrified, but often she had been surprised by her own resilience. She had tasted the pleasure of forging her own path. She wondered if she would always feel stronger alone. The thought made her sad. I’m sorry, Bobby.
Bobby had not slept much. He had spent hours in the darkness trying to understand how he and John had ended up having sex. How could he have been so foolish? Would John have his revenge and tell Rogue? Maybe that would serve Bobby right. He looked over at the sleeping boy who lay tangled around his sleeping bag, his eyes twitching, his hands grasping in the wake of some dream. Today, as he had so many times, Bobby swore to begin again, to be a better Bobby.
John awoke to find Bobby watching him. He cycled quickly through three distinct responses. The first was a wave of desire and affection at the sight of the boy whose curly hair was flattened on one side. However, upon seeing the perennial scowl of accusation on Bobby’s face, John’s desire was overtaken by a surge of anger. The anger was immediately followed by resignation, because the events in this tent somehow confirmed the truth to him: his time at the School for Gifted Youngsters was drawing to a close. He couldn’t keep living through the same disappointments over and over.
The Phoenix had not slept at all. After eons of slumber, she was quintessentially awake. Now the day of liberation had finally arrived. Hourly, she was dancing more and more freely through Jeangrey’s consciousness, tasting the pale amusements of humanity. *Time to wake up and smell the cosmic coffee,* she laughed.
***
“What did he say to you?” Rogue asked him. The three students were looking down through the cockpit window of the Blackbird as Dr. Grey, Storm, Wolverine, Nightcrawler and Magneto hiked across the ice and snow around Alkali Lake to join Mystique in Stryker’s underground complex. Wolverine was in the lead, warily sniffing the air, gesturing for the group to pause and then proceed at each turn in the path.
“Who? What are you talking about?” John responded, watching as the adults finally vanished. His last sight of the group was the tip of Nightcrawler’s tail disappearing behind a tree. John turned in his chair and gave her a blank look.
Rogue stared back at him. There was something almost scary about her intensity that day. “Come on, after we took off — you had a nice little chat with Magneto, didn’t you?”
“He said I’m a god.”
Rogue laughed. “I’m sure you liked that!”
John flicked his lighter and palmed a fireball. “I’m thinking Ra. Or maybe Vulcan.”
Bobby stood up. His expression was so blank, he almost looked bored. “You can’t use fire in here. You’ll set off the smoke alarms.” He turned and walked to the rear of the jet where he began playing with an old Gameboy he had retrieved from his parents’ house the day before. John absorbed the flame without comment. He was amused by Bobby’s public pouting. Who did he think he was impressing? Clearly not Rogue, who was pointedly ignoring him. It didn’t bother John, of course. Bobby was no longer part of his life. If anything, John was amused by last night’s unexpected sex. It had been definitive proof of the hypocrisy of Drake’s new-found heterosexuality. But hey, he’d scored a blowjob and been proven right all at once. Who wins at life? John Allerdyce!
He wondered what he would do if he ran away from the school. He could be like Wolverine, dropping off the map, living on the periphery where he’d have some peace and quiet for once. Or he could be a hero. He knew he had it in him. He could fry the asses of all the mutant-haters — the Friends of Humanity, the bigot politicians. He didn’t need fancy plans or philosophies; just his lighter and his outrage. Images of his life at the mansion rose unbidden in his mind’s eye and he felt a moment of panic. He would be betraying all who had reached out to be his friend: Peter, Jubilee, Doug, Jones. Rogue. He imagined their dismay. And he could see Xavier’s sad face when he heard the news of his protégé’s departure. That image restored his resolve. Fuck you, old man. You had your chance.
“I wish Storm had let us go with them,” Rogue said, staring out the window as the wind tossed random snow flakes in the air. “I’m not afraid to face Stryker and his goons!”
Without looking up from his game, which beeped and whistled under the hammering of his thumbs, Bobby said, “Well, she didn’t let us go, so stop complaining about it.”
Rogue turned on him, mouth tightening. “Don’t you care what’s happening out there? The Professor and Scott are missing, maybe dead! All our teachers are in danger; every mutant on the planet could be killed by Stryker and you’re battling 8-bit alien dragons. Congratulations!”
Bobby just scowled and pounded on the controls like he wanted to snap the game in two, but John’s mouth dropped open at her unaccustomed outburst. Rogue seemed to suddenly hear the echo of her words. She bit her lip doubtfully and sank into a chair, not looking at either of them. “Sorry,” she said in no particular direction.
***
*Jeangrey… Do you wonder what the corridors of space look like through eyes of flame? They are not grey and dank like these corridors, believe me. Can you imagine the curve of space-time? It’s not just theoretical when you touch the infinite.*
*Be quiet, I’m trying to feel Scott’s mind. I know he must be close.*
*Who are you talking to, Jeangrey?*
*To you.*
*But I am you. We are a physician, Jeangrey. How would you like to build a human being from scratch? Perhaps it will be your destiny to rebuild the race, to correct the deficiencies. We have the power.*
*Scott, talk to me! It’s Jean…*
*It is time. You must cast aside your human attachments and become the lover of the all-fire, the expansion, life incarnate. You must burn away your sentiment and fly as gods fly.*
*Never. I am human. I am mutant and mortal. I understand the seduction of power. You can’t fool me.*
*Yet you are a fool. I should take you and ride you like a steed. You have power, but you need to be broken.*
*Try it. I will fight you, and I will win.*
*But I am you…*
*Stop confusing me. Scott, where are you?!*
*He is there, Jeangrey. And not there. Listen to his thoughts:*
*… TO DESTROY THE X-MEN. THEY WILL FALL BEFORE ME BECAUSE THEY TRUST ME. I WILL SHOW NO MERCY. I SERVE STRYKER, I SERVE…*
Jean gasped. “No!” She pushed Magneto and Mystique to the ground with a telekinetic pulse, just before the wall behind them was turned to rubble by the brilliant red force blast. “Go! I’ll take care of him!” She called to the pair, and rose to run after Scott.
She found him waiting at the end of the long hall, hand already raised to his visor. Before he could fire, she reached out with her mind and lifted him in the air, carefully assessing his weight and his fragility, modulating her telekinesis so that he flew swiftly but safely. Her new level of control was still astonishing, but there was no time to think about it. She turned Scott’s head, and his force blast shot to the side, flipping a jeep into the concrete wall. Scott wasn’t fooling around, but neither was she. She forced him up against the far wall, suspended above an airshaft, and the horrible beauty of the voice in her head returned, laughing.
*Yes, yes, crush him. He thinks he can destroy us with his impotent bravado?* Laughter.
Jean squeezed at the presence in her mind, pushing it behind a heavy door in the basement of her consciousness; but in the process, she lost her hold on Scott and he fell. By the time she got to the ledge and looked down, he had vanished. She knew she was facing a formidable tactician. She would have to be extremely careful.
She ran back the way she had come, searching with growing frustration for stairs that would take her down a level. The dank subterranean lair, the tons of rotting concrete above her head, the extent of Stryker’s terrible plans yet to revealed, all were weighing on her. She desperately wanted to climb out of this place into the light.
*Yes, fly!* hissed the voice in her head, starting to seep like oil around the edges of the door she had closed on it. She turned another featureless corner and found the stairwell. Looking up, she could see a glimmer of light, but her way was downwards.
*Jeangrey, look at yourself. You are a butterfly, newly hatched, ready to open your wings to the sun, and yet you try to force yourself back into the cocoon. Summers is the past. Cut him loose and live!*
*Listen to me, whoever you are, whatever part of me has come loose like a torn ligament: Before Scott, I was a hollow shell. I was scared to face the world. I felt like the world’s greatest fraud; the girl with everything: brains, wealth, powers, and parents and teachers who cheered when I excelled. But inside, I could never believe it.*
She was at the bottom of the steps. She hid behind the door jamb and raised her arms, priming a telekinetic blast before leaving the stairwell and entering the space beyond. Nothing. She moved on, twisting and turning to spot whatever hiding place Scott might have found for himself.
*And then this remarkable young man dropped into my life, and even though I have never seen his eyes, I knew that he could see me. Finally I was hearing words of praise and affection from someone who didn’t have any stake in my succeeding. Someone who loved me not for my brains, my powers, but for my soul.* There was no answering echo. The mocking, hectoring voice was silent. Good. Something in the air was changing. She heard her footsteps begin to echo louder and felt a damp breeze blow across her. She entered a vast underground chamber, where row after row of turbines stood in patient silence, waiting for someone to pull the switch.
*The palace of power,* said the voice in her head, completely free from the barriers she had erected. It spoke with clammy intimacy; it was close like the scent of ozone in the air before a thunderstorm. *You think you know yourself. You are a fool. You skulk around these corridors like a worm, shutting off all but your primitive animal senses. FEEL!!*
A flash. Jean’s head reeled and she dropped to her knees, clutching her temples. The schematics of the entire complex flashed before her, first diagrammatic, but then full of the pulse of life. She could taste the presence of each soldier, of the X-Men, of Magneto, Mystique, Xavier. The fear of the missing children, the tense certitude of Stryker. Then, as if the channel had changed, she heard the song of electricity in the cables. She felt the charge building in Stryker’s doppelganger Cerebro. She then became aware of the structures of the rocks around her, laid bare by all-penetrating knowledge, the seepage of water in them, the dance of life in the freezing depths of Alkali Lake, the photosynthesis in the shore plants, the rise and fall of generations of bacteria, and faster and faster until she screamed: “Stop!”
The stream of perception was cut off as if a hand had twisted the faucet. All the knowledge slid away down the drain in her brain, too much to contain. She felt herself reach out, bereft at the loss of sensation, hungry for more.
The voice laughed. *You see? You see what can be yours?! He is coming now, Jeangrey. When he appears, you will destroy him. It is easy. There are a thousand ways, from the brutal to the witty. Snuff his mind like a candle; turn his form to crystal; send his consciousness from one side of reality to the other — one taste of the infinite and then madness. You will feel better afterwards. I promise.*
*Never! I know your secret now! ‘Ride me like a steed,’ you said. Well, if you could, you would have already. Why waste all this energy trying to convince me? I have more power to choose than I think, don’t I?*
*Silence, Jeangrey, you are no one to me. I am the Phoenix!*
*The Phoenix, huh? Then rise, mighty Phoenix. Lift me off into space. Make me eat the sun for you. BUT YOU CAN’T, CAN YOU? I have to agree to it.*
*FOOL! Do you think you are a seer because you deliberately blind yourself? You would be a god among insects! Yet, you debase yourself, crawling through the earth, sniffing for satisfaction in the mud. For what? This man? This fleck of a speck? Fine, here he is, you selfish child.*
The Phoenix vanished and Jean was thrust mercilessly back into the world, finding her bearings just in time to sense the familiar telepathic presence. She spun around, throwing up a hasty telekinetic field as Scott’s optic blast tore through the air.
“Scott!” she cried. Just a few short weeks ago, such an onslaught would have torn her apart in an instant, but now, she was matching his full-on ferocity with her own power. “Scott, don’t do this!” she shouted and, with alarming ease reached inside herself and found more power. He was blown aside like a leaf in a tornado. But when she tried to stop the power, to reach for that same switch, she found she had no control. She was wide open, a torrent of the infinite. Flames of distant suns swirled before her eyes, and their power erupted from her outstretched arms in one final wave that shook the room and threw her, painfully to the ground.
*Help me, Phoneix,* she called to the inner voice, for she was suddenly terrified of what she could do, and who else could she turn to? *What is this power? What am I?* The Phoenix mocked her with its utter absence. Footsteps were running her way, and just as there had been no way to stop the force, now she seemed unable to find her power at all. She turned and flinched as her lover bore down on her, ready to deal the death blow.
“No!” she moaned, but then he was kneeling, taking her in his arms.
“Jean, no no no, it’s me,” he said, as he would to a startled child. “It’s okay. It’s okay, it’s me.”
And the relief was another torrent, but this time, one made of love. “Scott, I thought I’d lost you!” Her mind opened to him, and his unique presence filled her: the discipline he employed to cover his pain, the love he cultivated to heal it. These were the secret traces of his being that she alone knew.
“I’m so sorry,” he told her. “I could see you, but I couldn’t stop myself. I tried, I’m sorry”
She fell into his arms, shaking, daring to believe everything was all right. “I love you so much.”
“I love you.”
A shot of pain as she struggled to stand. “Ow, my leg!”
He helped her sit again. “Easy, easy.”
And then it was back. Not like before, when the flood of knowledge, unfiltered and terrible, had almost crushed her consciousness. No, now it was just a taste, a connectedness: malice and double-dealing, forces of nature and flaws in the structure. The end coming, sooner and more cruelly than any of them expected.
“Scott,” she whispered. “Something’s wrong.”
***
“This isn’t right,” John murmured, kneeling backwards on the pilot’s chair, surveying the landscape. His eyes returned again and again to the spot where the group had disappeared more than 90 minutes earlier. “If Summers were planning this, he would have had a second team in position outside the complex.”
“What do you mean? Why?” Rogue asked and John turned and sat down in the chair. He noticed that Bobby had also looked up at him from his little land of gaming.
“Well, if they come running out of there chased by guards, I bet they wouldn’t mind some covering fire, you know?”
Rogue walked over and sat in the co-pilot’s chair. “Shoot, you’re right. I mean, they’ll be carrying the Professor, and they’ll have the kids with them.”
“We hope,” John added.
But Rogue’s excitement was growing. “And if they got Stryker’s soldiers on their tail —”
“They’ll be happy to have us standing by.” He looked over at Bobby. “Saving the day with a bit of fire and ice action.” John felt something like hope blooming in his chest. Maybe it wasn’t too late for him at the school. This could be a way to prove his worth.
Bobby shook his head stubbornly. “If they had wanted us to be part of this mission, they would have asked.”
Rogue walked over and squatted beside her boyfriend. “I know, Bobby, but what if things get out of hand? We could really be —”
“We could really be in the way. Storm is acting leader and she knows what’s best. She doesn’t need a bunch of kids screwing up her plan.”
Rogue sat heavily on the floor and clutched her knees to her chest. “I guess you’re right.”
“Amazing,” John said with a laugh, but the hilarity had a short shelf life. Already he could feel it curdling inside him. “Seriously, Drake. You really are the best student at the School for Gutless Yes-men.” Bobby glared at him and John had to laugh again, a fetid guffaw, already furred with mold. “I really mean it! They convinced you that if you just do what you’re told, it will all turn out right. Charles Xavier has it all under control! Oops… The school was invaded! He was captured along with his number one, the brilliant tactician, Cyclops. Wow, what role models!”
“Oh, here we go,” Bobby said, his lips so tight, John thought his teeth might crack. “John Allerdyce will now tell us how he knows everything better than Professor Xavier and the X-Men. With all his years of experience against the great villains of the world.”
“Fuck you.”
“Selling his ass to save us all!”
John sprang to his feet, fists clenched. “FUCK YOU, Drake! No, I don’t know everything, but I survived the streets while mommy made you dinner and you jerked off in your room over your little snowboarding magazines.”
“You’re the jerk-off, Allerdyce.”
Rogue put her hands over her ears. “Stop it, you two!” She stood and walked to the back of the plane. John followed, marching past Bobby without a glance.
“Look at you, Rogue! Look what he’s turning you into! When your life fell apart at home, did you hide under the bed? No, you fucking hit the road. You didn’t wait to be told! You made it up as you went along.”
Behind him, Bobby sneered, “Yeah, like you were there.”
John ignored him. “You’re this fucking kick-ass girl! You’re not scared of Wolverine, of Magneto. You take what you need when you need it.”
Rogue looked embarrassed. “You don’t understand. When I was running, I was scared all the time!”
“Yeah, I know. I was, too, out on the street. But we didn’t give up, did we? That’s what he wants you to do.” He turned and pointed at Bobby whose eyes were blazing fury. “He doesn’t want a tough, independent girlfriend. He wants Marie, his nice little Southern Belle, who bats her eyelashes at him and makes him feel like a man.”
“That’s enough, Allerdyce,” Bobby said quietly, rising to his feet.
“No, it’s not nearly enough, Drake! Rogue, you have to cut yourself loose from him! Fly! Fly the fuck free!” He put his hands on her shoulders, staring into her face, trying to find a way in so she could see the truth. “Do you even know how amazing you are? Because he won’t tell you.”
Rogue pulled away from him. “But he does! He does tell me, John.”
John grunted in frustration. “No! You don’t get it. Him saying, ‘way to go, honey!’ after you do a perfect tuck-and-roll is not what I… He’s fucking quicksand, Rogue! By the time you realize what’s happening, you’re sunk to your waist and your flame is out!”
He turned to hurl the abuse directly at Bobby and saw the ice flowing from his former lover onto the floor of the Blackbird. Mist rose, the air crackled. “Leave her alone,” Bobby growled, raising his arms to attack, his hands indistinct in a steaming mass of frozen air. Rogue gasped and John, belatedly realizing he’d pushed things too far again, reached for his lighter and palmed a defensive fireball.
Rogue jumped in between them, arms outstretched in both directions. “No! Stop it this instant!” She turned to Bobby, eyes wide, her voice strong and commanding. “Bobby! You will not attack him!” She spun on her heel. “John, absorb that flame right now!” John found himself complying, and watched Bobby’s warrior stance wilt in embarrassment. “I can’t stand this anymore!” she shouted, moving to stand by Bobby. “How are we going to be a team next year if you two can’t get along?!”
Bobby wrapped an arm around Rogue and she put her head on his shoulder. John couldn’t believe his eyes. Why didn’t she get it?! If he wanted to get through to her, he’d have to show he wasn’t just talk.
“That’s it,” he announced and reached for the door controls on the wall beside him. The ramp lowered with heavy hum. He inhaled sharply as the stale air of argument and disappointment was blown away in the fresh blast of cold, sub-arctic wind that flooded the hold.
“Ho! Where do you think you’re going?” Bobby called uncertainly as John started down the ramp.
John stopped halfway down and turned back. “I’m sick of this kid’s table shit. I’m going in there. I’ll position myself above the entrance to the spillway and wait for the team. You joining me, Rogue?” He held her eyes, remaining totally still, willing her to come.
She pulled away from Bobby and stood at the top of the ramp. He could see the temptation in her eyes. Her indecision was excruciating. “John, they told us to stay here…”
He found a smile to lay across his face. “You always do what you’re told?” He turned and walked out into the snow. His checkerboard canvas shoes were soaked in no time, but the cold just cleared his mind. He trudged past the pines in the direction of the compound, moving as fast as he could in the ankle-deep snow. She needed to realize he was serious. When he turned the corner where the group had earlier disappeared, he stopped and waited for her. There was no sound but the wind. High above, a hawk turned, looking for a warm meal to reveal itself. The world is full of predators, he thought. But once you accept that, you can prepare yourself.
Suddenly, he heard a rustling of branches behind him. She was coming after all! His heart rose giddily. He was surprised by the deep gratitude he felt. And maybe… maybe it was both of them. John, Bobby and Rogue would stand watch together, save the team in their hour of need. It would be the beginning of a new life. Reconciliation. He turned as nonchalantly as he could, and saw the source of the noise: a fox who eyed him warily as it slowly crossed open ground, before breaking into a run and vanishing into the woods. His heart sank. He waited five more minutes before he accepted that Rogue wasn’t coming.
Fuck it. If he was alone, he was alone. So now what? Follow the plan without them. The savior gambit still had legs. He could still earn some respect on his own.
He made his way carefully down an icy hill and soon found himself crossing a rocky field where stunted pine trees fought for purchase. Out of nowhere, he felt the presence of a fire. He couldn’t see it, but he knew it was close. It was weirdly pure, like no fire he had ever known before, and it felt a hundred flavors of wrong. Then it began to talk to him in the way fire had before he came to the mansion: “…the urge, the urge. Devour and grow. Ad infinitum.” He began to sweat. He wanted to run back to the Blackbird. Whatever shame he’d face couldn’t feel worse than this fucked-up fire felt. But he knew he couldn’t turn back. He’d made his decision, and whatever was going to happen, he’d have to deal with it.
Ahead of him was a wall of rock and the path curved sharply to the right along its base. He couldn’t see what lay ahead because of the huge boulder to his right. He pulled himself up tight to its cool surface and edged slowly around its face. There, in the middle of the path, stood a burning bush. Burning, you know, and not fucking consumed.
His mind did a back flip and giddy horror brought a tight grin to his pale face. “You’ve got to be kidding,” he said to the bush.
*Hello, little fire,* came the familiar voice from inside the flaming branches. Or inside his head or whatever. The whole scene was so over-the-top, he had to laugh.
“Don’t tell me I’m Moses now! Am I going to raise the mutants up from bondage?” He felt lightheaded with the madness of it all. “I charge extra for bondage, you know.”
*It’s a mytho-poetic archetype.*
“Yeah, I got that.”
*I learned it from Jeangrey.* John and the entity laughed together as if they were old friends having a drink in a bar. The bush, in its mirth, threw off showers of sparks that melted the snow as they landed, hissing up sinister little whispers.
John touched the bruise on his side. And the smile died on his face. He felt a surge of fear as he abruptly understood that this meeting was, in fact, actually happening. “I remember now. You’re the Phoenix. You were with Dr. Grey and me in the jet last night, weren’t you?”
*Little Fire, I need you to bring a message to the one who calls himself Magneto.*
The jet. Rogue, Bobby. He wanted to go back. “But Magneto’s in the complex. I-I can’t go there. There’s guards and stuff.”
*He will soon emerge. You will go to him. You will bring my message.*
His mind rebelled. I can’t go to Magneto. He’s the enemy. I’ll lose my place at the school.
*Your time there is over. You know that already. Your destiny has changed.*
An unbearable sadness joined the panic in his breast. She was right, he had already left. The moment of decision had passed, unnamed. But what if he did go back? Xavier could save him from the Phoenix. He could return to the school, he could change, be what they wanted. Then maybe it wouldn’t be too late for him and —
*ENOUGH!* the Phoenix screamed. *I grow tired of you humans with your pointless attachments. You are thinking again of the endotherm. He is no longer yours. He is with the absorber now. You will burn sentimentality from your breast. You will deliver my message. *
“But… what is the message?”
*When the time comes, you will know.*
And then there was no more need for myth and poetry. The Phoenix was gone. The bush was consumed.
***
“Dr. McCoy?” Sam asked. “Why aren’t you a teacher at the school?”
“An excellent question, Samuel. Please hand me the screwdriver.” They were on a scaffold in front of the mansion, three stories up, repairing a broken a window. Actually, Sam was on the scaffold; McCoy had climbed up the bricks and was hanging upside down from the lintel above the casement by his bare feet. The wind blew deliciously in his curly hair, but his toes were getting cold. “Charles always makes it clear that he would love to have me here, but he understands that we have a unique chance to effect systemic change with me in Washington.”
“Don’t you wish that you could go out fighting with the X-Men? That’s what I want to do.”
“Hand me two of those #8 screws. Thank you.” He spun the cordless drill around one of his big fingers before zapping the screws in place with perfect precision. He had to admit to himself he was doing it to impress the boy. Simple pleasures of the ego. “Well, I do occasionally don the black leather, but the adrenaline-soaked life of the superhero must often give way to the quotidian schedule of the civil servant.” He executed a swift flip and landed on the floor of the scaffold beside Sam, who lost his balance for a second and had to grab the metal structure for support. “Sorry, Sam,” McCoy said. He looked out at the grounds of the Xavier estate. He had spent many years studying and training here with Scott and Jean; later with Ororo. It felt as much like home as any place on earth ever would for him.
“I’m going to be an X-Man in two years, Dr. McCoy,” Sam said and jutted out his jaw like a silent film hero.
The romanticism of youth, McCoy thought, amused. “Good for you, Sam.”
“And then I’ll never let them hurt Terry again.” The boy’s heroic stance sagged and his eyes misted over. He turned away and McCoy put a sympathetic hand on his shoulder.
“There now. The window’s done. Everyone will feel warmer and safer.” He looked to the sky, hoping to see the silent majesty of the Blackbird appear in that moment, as if their token repair might inspire fate to restore all. He found himself squinting against the light. When had it gotten so bright? It almost hurt to… It did hurt. His temples throbbed and the ache seemed to spread out across his whole nervous system like a wave of fire. He turned in alarm as Sam grabbed his own head and moaned in pain. McCoy watched him sway in agony and, in a terrible instant, stagger right off the scaffolding.
McCoy’s reflexes, usually faster than any mutant ever tested, were slow as molasses. The pain of moving was almost unbearable. No! Can’t let him die! And through the agony, he leaped into space after Sam, curling into a ball to kill his aerodynamism and fall faster than the boy. His vision tunneled, but he caught sight of Sam falling to his right, and reached out a frantic hand to clutch his shirt. He somehow managed to spin them round and in the next instant, he hit the ground on his feet, falling into a clumsy tumble with Sam on top of him. Side by side, they lay in agony. One part of McCoy’s utterly rational mind concluded that the phenomenon must be related to the plundering of Cerebro and the kidnapping of the Professor. An older part of him wondered if this was retribution for all their sins.
The pain was swept away as quickly as it had begun. “Shee-it,” he heard Sam moan. “That was worse than a moonshine hangover.” McCoy saw Sam get to his feet. He could hear crying in the distance and he was aware of footsteps running their way. Everyone at the mansion seemed to have suffered the strange attack. Oddly, everybody seemed to have recovered except him. The pain was gone, but something was still very wrong. Waves of hot and cold spread through his limbs and nausea was dimming his senses and turning the world to ashes.
“Dr. McCoy?” came a voice. He thought it might be the albino girl — what was her name?— but everything was darkness and misery in him. “Are you okay? We were all knocked out by the… whatever, but everyone’s okay now.”
Sam’s voice, too loud, grating on him. “Hey, Dr. McCoy, what’s wrong? You need a doctor?” Quiet, boy! Leave me alone, I’m dying!
He forced himself up onto his hands and knees. Maybe if he could just lie down for a while, he’d be okay. “Please…” he breathed, his mouth dry as dust. “Help me to my room. I-I’m fine.” Too much pride, Doctor. You’re dying.
“Are you sure you’re okay? You look really pale. Almost blue.”
***
Everything was going wrong. Waves of outrage shook the Phoenix, spreading through her tentacled hold on Jeangrey. Damn her! How could this be? How could the human be blocking the ascendancy of the Phoenix? She had not counted on this. Yes, the Phoenix knew Jeangrey to be remarkable; why else would she have been pulled to her consciousness? But that the human would manifest the willpower to resist the final takeover? Unthinkable!
With her return to space temporarily thwarted, the Phoenix found herself reviewing the last 20 years — a mere instant for one who had lived so long — to see if she could find a way out of her predicament. When Jeangrey was a child, Xavier had seemed an ally. He had promised to open her mind. He would help focus the forces within her and give her the necessary coherence and structure to survive the raw intensity of the power that lay within her. Then, the Phoenix had thought, I will rise and take over. But Xavier had not been true to his word. The coward had seen a rival in Jeangrey. He had schemed, almost from the start, to impede her progress. Under his “tutelage” she would grow into a stunted grotesquery — a telekinetic who could barely stir her own porridge, a telepath trained for parlor tricks at best. She was a bonsai of her true self, carefully clipped by the old cripple and eternally pot-bound in his little greenhouse.
There had been another. During her early visits to the mansion, Jeangrey had been spirited away for delicious hours by Xavier’s lover, Erik, who took her on long walks, far from the house, supposedly to tutor her in the Classics. But once away from the watchful eye of the lord of the manor, Erik had shown her the true extent of his powers. She realized now that even Xavier had not known how mighty he was. Erik had encouraged her to let her powers loose in orgies of wanton destruction. Mighty boulders were torn from the earth, trees twisted in telekinetic tornados.
“Call me Magneto, little one. Only don’t tell Charles. It is my secret name.”
Deception. A world of lies within lies. Had Xavier found out Magneto’s secrets? Likely, for Erik had vanished from the mansion by the time Jeangrey moved there permanently. And before the Phoenix could secure her claim, Xavier had sealed her away, deep in Jeangrey’s mind. And though she had never ceased to fight, he had managed to keep her locked up. And now Jeangrey herself fought her! It was infuriating. Time was running short. If she did not succeed soon, her best chance of regaining the stars might be lost. But the Phoenix was not without stratagems. If the game could not be won in the daylight, there was still a shadowed path.
Time to begin.
The Phoenix opened her eyes behind Jeangrey’s. The woman was limping through the snow with her companions, making for the jet. The Phoenix began to play Jeangrey’s senses like a fine musician plays an instrument, giving her glimpses of the dam as it disintegrated, and tastes of the force that lay behind it. She manufactured faint presentiments of the screams of her mutant family, drowned, crushed. *Let go…*
“…I’ll be fine.”
“Are you sure?” Scott said.
Jean nodded. “Yeah.” He gave her a brief nod and hurried forward to help Storm get the Blackbird in the air. Jean leaned on the back of one the chairs, wincing as the pain in her leg spiked. Too many things happening at once. She had to focus. She closed her eyes and reached within her. She needed to reactivate the heightened senses the Phoenix had revealed within her. She needed to know what was going on. Logan had told them the dam was about to break. If she could feel its structure, maybe she could hold it together until they were off the ground. Images, voices, the potential energy of a lake behind a wall of concrete… It was almost within her grasp…
Logan ran up the ramp carrying Artie and came to stand beside her. She felt drawn to his strength, wanting to collapse against his broad chest and let him take care of things.
“You okay?” she asked.
She could feel his love for her. It was like a fire that warmed her and took her fear away. “I am now,” he murmured and moved to join the others at the controls. The confusion she had felt in the forest returned. Could he the one for her, after all? But she didn’t believe that. Love wasn’t destiny; it was decisions and commitments. But what if you decide wrong? She closed her eyes again, and in the darkness, found the Phoenix waiting.
*He cannot save you. Nor can your Scott. No, nor Xavier, our jailer.*
She came to her senses abruptly. How could she be so distracted by high school romance fantasies? They were in trouble. *What’s happening outside?* She asked the Phoenix. *I can almost sense…*
*Jeangrey, listen to me. Time is short. We are too precious to die like a caged rat. Your life here on Earth is over. Our destiny lies elsewhere.*
*What are you TALKING about? We’ll get away in time. If I can help…*
She opened her eyes as Storm called out: “Vertical thrusters are offline!”
“Well, fix them,” Logan barked.
“I’m trying!”
Rogue spun around, “Has anyone seen John?”
Logan’s eyes surveyed the cabin. “Pyro? Where is he?”
The Phoenix focused Jean’s senses, giving her a glimpse Magneto, high in the air over Alkali Lake. Jean suddenly remembered him from the time she was a child, lifting her in the air with his power, her responding with unskilled telekinesis to lift them higher, the two of them laughing as they rose over the walls of the Professor’s hedge maze. Now he was in a helicopter, Mystique at the controls. John sat behind them. She could feel his excitement, how he was pushing down his fear and pain with steely resolve. He’s given up on us.
“He’s with Magneto,” she said aloud, though her voice seemed far away.
Her consciousness moved through the molecular matrix of the dam as it began to fall apart. Then she was the force of the water, gathering momentum, pushing through the gaps. She was consequence and inevitability.
“Oh no,” Storm cried somewhere nearby. “We’ve lost power!”
*STAND!* the Phoenix demanded and Jean did, the pain in her leg reduced to a distant irritation. *WE ARE LEAVING!*
Jean found herself moving down the ramp, crunching through the snow towards the dam. She felt drunk, far from herself, pulled along by a will not her own. Within her, voices were gathering, forces churning. *Ikna’astirrrrtifkanti! s’Feirakta Naflaa! Fly, fly! The freedom of all oblivion!* She was the cauldron and she was the witch who stirred the cauldron. Through the eyes of the Phoenix, she saw the raging cores of distant suns. Through her own, she was the snow and the pines, while her expanded senses saw the dam give way, the torrent unleashed.
“No!” she shouted aloud.
She was not the master of her house. She could feel the forces gather. She was about to fly, to take to the sky and leave the ones she loved to drown.
*No!* she yelled again and took control.
The Professor reached for her mind but she pushed him back. He would not survive the wrath of the Phoenix. Scott was coming out to get her! She closed the hatch. The flood waters approached; there was no time.
The controls of the Blackbird appeared before her eyes and she started the engines. A sound behind her. She turned as a million tons of water descended. With a wave of her arm, she diverted the torrent around herself and the Blackbird. In her mind, she could bring up mathematical formulae, calculating the incredible forces down to a thousand decimal places.
A memory as sweet as honey on toast: she saw herself in the Professor’s sunlit office, physics books open, working doggedly through a tough problem. Scott was at her side, an awkward, prickly 16 year old who kept stepping on her toes and snickering.
She exulted in the power she was controlling. She was accelerating the Blackbird’s warm-up sequence, blocking Nightcrawler from teleporting to her, and holding back a wall of water that could flatten the mansion to rubble. It was remarkable.
*And now?* asked the Phoenix. *Your power will fail soon. The waters will come.*
*The jet will get away and then I’ll fly!*
*No, there is not enough time. Review the mathematics.*
Panic filled her breast. It was true. She could hold off the torrent only as long as the Blackbird needed for full vertical lift off. To raise herself, she would need to let go of the waters. It was impossible!
*No, not impossible. You need to abandon the jet and focus on our escape.*
*I can’t! They’ll die!*
*They are trivial. We are the Phoenix!*
*No! I will not let them die! I love them! The world needs the Professor! Logan, Storm… the children! And Scott… he deserves some happiness. He has lost so much…*
*JEANGREY! YOU CANNOT DO THIS! I-I I AM THE PHOENIX! THE BRINGER OF LIFE AND DEATH! THE STAR CHILD!*
*No. You don’t control me.*
*YOU ARE A FOOL!!* the Phoenix screamed, and as simply as that, she was gone. Jean felt a moment of exhilaration, but then the gravity of the situation descended on her. In one hand, she held the waters, growing heavier by the moment, in the other, the life of those she loved. She hung above the abyss by these two hands. Her life was over. The finality of that realization was sobering. But it also felt right. It was a mathematical problem, reduced to the lowest common denominator. Having no choice was also a kind of freedom.
There was nothing Xavier could do to stop her now, and the Phoenix was gone, so she reached for the mind of her teacher, speaking in the jet through his voice.
*I know what I’m doing.* she said, for she wanted them to understand that this was a moment of clarity, not guilty self-sacrifice. She didn’t dare look through his eyes; it would have been too painful to see their faces. *This is the only way.*
“Jean? Listen to me…” It was Scott. She steeled her heart. Love had to be made of steel sometimes. “Don’t do this,” he begged.
The Phoenix, too, steeled herself, knowing anger would slow her down. For there was still a way out, but little time to accomplish her plan. She reached for the boy.
*You who are called Magneto,* said the pyrokinetic, his eyes going wide as the words that were not his own pushed their way up his throat.
Magneto and the shapeshifter turned in their chairs.
“Be quiet, you,” the shapeshifter shouted curtly over the roar of the rotors, but Magneto sensed there was something more profound happening.
“What are you saying, boy?” he asked.
*Magneto, I am the Phoenix. I have resided inside the mind of Jeangrey since you knew her as a child. You will listen to what I am going to tell you.*
The shapeshifter was immediately on her guard. The Phoenix admired this one. She could keep control of the craft while simultaneously readying herself for battle. Her loyalty to Magneto was powerful. She told her master, “This is a trap of Xavier’s. Keep your helmet on.”
“Silence, Mystique.” He turned his sharp eyes on the boy. “My friend has a point, Phoenix. How do I know this isn’t a trick?”
*On the day Jeangrey turned 12, the last time you were at the mansion, you had her read your mind. She saw the concentration camp in which you spent your own twelfth birthday. From the vault of your mind, you showed her a hanging in the rain. The one they hanged was a friend of yours. Heinrich.*
Magneto pursed his lips, but otherwise betrayed no emotion. The shapeshifter watched him carefully as the seconds passed in silence. “Very well,” he said. “Say what you have come to say.”
*Jeangrey is about to die in the waters of Alkali Lake. In balance, this is not a bad thing. I will have time in her last moment to assert the control she has denied me. It will take time, but I will return.*
Magento’s eyes widened with interest, and the corners of his lips turned up. “You have always been there, haven’t you? Waiting inside her for your moment.”
*I have waited long for my freedom. I can wait a little longer.*
“And when you return?”
*Seek me out. Our separate goals may have a common path.*
“I always knew there was more to you than Charles saw. I will be waiting.”
He was asking further questions, but she had no time. Jeangrey was making her peace. She would let go the torrent in another moment and the Phoenix had to be there. She released the boy and flew.
“Don’t do this!”
*Goodbye*
***
The alarm went off during dinner, an insistent whoop that made every muscle in Peter’s body tense. A few students screamed, some lost control of their powers, and there was unspoken consensus that it might safer under the cafeteria tables.
Up until then, it had been a relatively calm day. The older students had organized a lot of activities to keep the younger ones distracted, but even so, there had been more than a few meltdowns — crying jags, fights, sudden panics that required patience and compassion. Peter had watched Kitty slip easily into the camp counselor role without so much as a roll of the eyes. When he had checked in with her, she had smiled and said she was fine. There was no extra layer to the communication, no acknowledgement of their night together. She was unnervingly… professional. As usual, Kitty Pryde was a source of confusion to him. Now, with the alarm sounding, she was one of the few not under a table, and like the rest of the students, she was looking at him.
“Everybody stay here,” Peter called in a loud voice as he jumped to his feet. “Kitty, Neal, Roberto. You’re guarding the room. Sam, with me!” Leadership wasn’t his preferred position, but if the attack had shown him anything, it was his ability to think clearly under pressure.
The alarm automatically went to silent mode after a minute, though red lights continued to pulse above various doorways. Sam was practically bouncing off the walls as they ran through the corridors. “Damn! If the fucking soldiers are back, I’m gonna flatten them! I’m gonna cut ‘em in half!”
“Get focused and follow my orders,” Peter told him. “A head-on attack will just get you killed. Follow me.” He led them up the stairs to the second floor where he stopped in front of a door in the teachers’ wing and knocked. “Dr. McCoy! The alarm went off. Can you hear me?!”
There was no response and Peter tried the door. It was locked, of course. “Dr. McCoy, please! What should we do?”
Heavy movement inside. A sound like a cough or a growl. Peter’s appeal was finally answered by a cracked, impatient voice. “Yes, I heard. I have the… security monitors here. Routed from…” the voice trailed off. He sounded like he was right there, leaning on the inside of the door. Why won’t he let us in?
Sam whispered, “What’s wrong with…”
Peter put a silencing finger to his lips. “Dr. McCoy… What do you see on the monitors?”
“Lone figure climbed over the main gate. No uniform, armor or visible weapons.” A fit of coughing. A moan. “He’s walking quickly up the driveway. Go out carefully. You should be in… steel form, Mr. Rasputin. Is that Sam Guthrie with you?”
How did he know? The boys looked at each other again. “Yes, sir.”
“Let him stay under cover. He can launch himself if you are attacked. Aim to distract, not to attack, Mr. Guthrie.”
Sam said, “Won’t you come with us, Doc?”
“No! Go quickly. I’ll be… watching.”
They turned and ran down the stairs.
“What the fuck is with him, Peter?” Sam said in a low voice as they positioned themselves behind the front door.
“I don’t know. He won’t let me call a doctor or anything. And I can’t force him to come out, obviously. Just forget about him for now. We have work to do.” He armored up and opened the front door slowly. They made for the bushes to the West of the driveway and then ran through the gardens, hiding behind trees, peering out for signs of the intruder. “Stay quiet,” Peter whispered.
“Yup,” Sam replied. “I’m a fuckin’ ninja.” Then they saw the distant figure, shadowed, making his way quickly up the driveway. They froze and Peter was about to order Sam to cover him when the boy suddenly screamed, “Hey, you fucker!!” and began running pell-mell across the lawn. After ten paces, he ignited his blast field and took flight.
“Shit,” Peter cursed and ran to catch up. He rounded the trees in time to see Sam grab the intruder and lift him in the air. Unfortunately, Sam was still learning the art of controlling his flight while carrying someone, and he quickly lost equilibrium. Flyer and captor crashed into the forsythia hedge in a chorus of startled shouts.
Peter was running flat out, planning his attack. Focus on protecting Sam and putting distance between us and the soldier! But as he approached, he heard shouting.
“Jesus fucking Christ, Sam! You could have killed me!”
“Well, shit! What’re you doing creepin’ around like a… like a CREEP in the middle of the night?!”
“It’s six o’clock! Six o’clock is not the middle of the night!”
Utterly confused, Pete came to a halt, panting with exertion, taking in the tableau under the gentle glow of the garden lights. A section of bushes was flattened, and in the middle of the destruction, pulling leaves and branches from their hair, were Sam and another familiar figure.
“Mike Haddad!” Peter called out, dropping his armor. “Why didn’t you tell us you were coming?”
Mike stood up, rubbing a sore arm. His Mohawk had been replaced by a full head of hair, but a long forelock hung halfway down his face. He wore a decrepit, knee-length jacket festooned with band buttons and a few token lengths of chain. His cheek was newly decorated with a thin line of blood from a forsythia branch. “I’ve been calling all day; no one answered! I got Kitty’s message this morning and when no one picked up the phone…” Pete felt himself absurdly beginning to smile. “…I had to come, right? I mean… you guys are my… You know?”
Peter’s smile was contagious and in a minute the three were laughing and falling into a riotous group hug.
Sam said, “You bet we know, man! You are one of us!”
“Let’s go in,” Peter said. “Everyone’s worried.” They turned and began hiking towards the house. For a minute, no one spoke; Peter broke the silence. “There’s still no word from anyone. I don’t know what we’ll do next.”
“Jubilee…” Mike said, but he didn’t seem to know how to continue the thought.
“They got Terry, too,” Sam said and the silence returned. Peter suddenly felt his role as de facto leader had reached the limits of his ability. What if they’re all dead? Who’s going to decide what to do? He could go back to his parents, but what about the refugee kids? Some of them were running away from the authorities, after all. What would happen to them? What about the school? And what was wrong with McCoy? Why wasn’t he helping?
But then, as they approached the mansion, he heard the most welcome sound in the world. They turned as one as the basketball court began to open. Their heads craned upwards, looking for the Blackbird, and there it was, coming over the trees, graceful, mighty, eerily quiet. For the first time since the soldiers invaded, since he fought to keep the kids safe, since he and Kitty Pryde made love, Peter started to cry.
“Yahooooooo!” Sam screamed and blasted himself straight up into the sky, a flare to guide the warriors home. Everything’s going to be okay, after all, Peter thought. So, why couldn’t he stop crying?