lifeincarncte:
There were many days - most days - that Jean was infinitely grateful for what she had been given, the opportunities that had been presented to her, the people that she surrounded herself with, the people that loved and cared for her regardless of what it was that she had done, or the Phoenix had done. There were other days, the ones that she didnât speak of now (when she had brought them out into the open, it had been in the safety of Erik Lehnsherrâs classroom, where she had felt free to speak openly, to speak angrily, about the things that burned inside of her), days when she felt nothing but regret, nothing but rage at the situation that she had been placed into.
She had made a mistake a long time ago. She had been a sixteen year old child, moments from death, and she had called out for help. Â She had received a monster instead of a saviour, and that monster continued to haunt her even when for all intents and purposes Jean knew she had banished it. Xavier had put her in that position, had made her a soldier, but she couldnât find it within herself to resent that. The one thing that Xavier and Lehnsherrâs feud had proven time and time again was that no matter what side mutants chose, peace or war, they would always find themselves fighting for the right to exist.
Jean was not a fighter. she had never been. She was angry, selfish at times, she burned too brightly even when there was no entity to stoke the flames. Yet above all of that, she was compassionate, she was empathetic. She heard the thoughts of people that surrounded her and she did not resent them for what they brought to the surface, what they kept hidden, what they lied about. Everyone was redeemable in her mind, which was why she would not, could not, follow Erikâs lead. âThere are different ways to acknowledge the wrongs of the world as well,â Jean said. âThe Professor wishes to protect us from them until we find a way that weâre comfortable with. You would have us storming into a situation with anger first, and that would do nothing other than make them even more terrified of what we are.â âThey,â of course, being humans. It had been mutants versus humans for as long as Jean could remember, for as far as the history books went back, but that didnât need to be the case forever.
Of course, looking at Magneto, it was hard to remember that sometimes, to keep faith, to keep hope. He was an old man, but he was still bitter about what had been done to him as a child. Rightfully so, perhaps, but it showed that people could hold onto grudges, onto agendas, for a lifetime. âA fair point,â Jean conceded. She was more on guard out here than she had been in her apartment, for many reasons. âDo you consider the demons to be the real danger of this situation?â Erik was a revolutionary. Whether that was a good or bad thing was not for Jean to give the definitive decision on, but his thoughts were often intriguing. âAnd how many have fallen because of it? How many have failed to swim in deep water?â
It was only in arguing against Magneto that Jean recognised how similar he was to her beloved Professor X. They had both thrown children into a war, to fight on their behalf. Xavier protected them from the mansion, Magneto fought with his people on the ground, but was that enough to justify what they had done? Jean had never been a fighter, but now she couldnât remember life without a war. âI came here to be alone,â Jean said. âMy power isnât like that of the Phoenix, but Iâve hurt the X-Men enough. Training alone seemed the safest option.â Jean swallowed thickly, but felt determination raise in her as the shieldâs strength improved. âDo it,â she said. What could possibly go wrong?
Oh, to have her gifts. Even for a moment. If he could peer into her mind and see what thoughts were swirling there, it would be beautiful. Her âmindscapeâ as Charles and the others called them, must have been filled with power and potential, and he hoped one day to walk across the halls of her mind. If he had Charlesâ gifts, perhaps he couldâve even persuaded her to return to his side.Â
But even as the thought occurred to him, he knew he would never follow through. The choices each Mutant made defined them, and to take that away from one who mattered so much to him -- it was nearly unthinkable. It wouldâve made things simpler, to be sure, but it would dull the true glory of counting her among his ranks. Even if she didnât fight for him, her company alone would lift the spirits of the entire Brotherhood. Jean had a way of doing that, a light about her. Erik hoped one day she would release that light, purify the world in flames and fury, but if she could only provide a warmth and light for now, that was far from insignificant. âThe truth can be complicated,â he mused. âBut it is finite. Itâs only our perspectives that differ, but the facts remain the same. The wrongs of the world do not change, only our view of them.â He paused a moment, felt the fury she spoke of simmering in his veins, never far from the surface of his skin. It fueled his passion, his drive, his determination. He could no longer imagine a life without anger -- it felt too much like complacency. âCharles believes he can shelter everyone if he simply loves hard enough,â he said softly, keeping every trace of ire from his voice. âI am angry, yes. And anger has led me to action, but that anger is fueled by the same love Charles feels,â he said, his eyes locked on hers. âThe same truth, different expressions. They are not afraid of us,â he said, arching a brow. âThey are afraid of their own inadequacy. And I love my people enough to acknowledge that the humans are correct to have such a fear -- we are gods living among insects, and yet we are made to feel as nothing. I love my people too much to allow it to continue.âÂ
She was young yet, no matter how much she had grown. She still believed in Charlesâ utopian vision, the peace that could be achieved between Sapeins and Superiors. But Erik knew the truth -- that âpeaceâ would be nothing more than a farce, a half-baked compromise that would never turn in favor of the Mutants, not while humans still existed. Perhaps one day, she would understand that.Â
He could see how begrudging she was to admit that, the same way she had been when she was his student. It pulled a chuckle to his lips, but he swallowed it back down. âI believe they are a real enough threat to induce caution,â he said slowly, glancing around the wasteland. The desert that stretched on for miles, the smell of smoke thick in the air, the screeches of strange and fantastical creatures. âBut there are many other forces at work here. After all, it was not the demons who brought us here, simply to trespass on their home. But tell me, what do you make of it?â he asked, as if he were still her teacher. It was so easy to slip into old habits.Â
But just as easy to remember all that was separating them. Sentiment was one of her greatest weakness, but it was not one he was unfamiliar with. Each loss of a follower hurt him deeply. Too often Mutant lives were cut tragically short. âToo many,â he agreed, perhaps to her surprise. âBut they died with honor and pride in what they are. May we all be so lucky.â For death was unavoidable -- unless, it seemed, you were Jean Grey.
Possibly her greatest weakness had been a fear of death. That unavoidable tyrant that marched with time and took no quarter, showed no mercy. But Erik had accepted his death as a boy, when he was marched into those gates for the first time and he could smell the burning flesh still in the air. The scent lingered for weeks, never truly went away. Jean knew so much of fire, but did she know what that smell was like? Of course, her flames had spread far and wide while the Phoenix raged inside her, consuming friend and foe alike, so perhaps she was not as ignorant of the stench as he hoped for her. âSafest for them, yes,â Erik said, still admiring the shield. âBut it has put yourself at risk. If you were to exert yourself beyond exhaustion, you would be stuck here, my dear. Perhaps it is best I stumbled upon you -- or at least, not the worst,â he said, chuckling lowly.Â
He stepped back, the metal shard hovering just above his head. âWe will begin slowly,â he said, waving a hand forward. The metal crept towards Jeanâs shield, and he could feel the resistance as soon as it hit the light. âGood,â he said, amplifying the pressure, but the shield held. He called the metal back to position. âNow, faster. More momentum means it will hit your shield with more force -- you can conserve your energy if you wait until the last possible moment to increase the power of your field. Do it too quickly, and your enemy may have time to adjust their attack.â He felt more like a teacher than he had in months, despite what he said to her. âDonât forget to breathe,â he warned, and then he launched the metal towards the center of her forcefield.Â














