#phcenixes

“I don’t know what you want me to tell you, Jean. You know I’ll be fine. Let’s focus on you.” He said as he finished washing off the nub that was what was left of his arm that slowly healed and began putting on a black tank top. “I appreciate the concern but we both know you need more attention right now than me.” He said as he fumbled his nub through the armhole awkwardly. This wasn’t something he was used to. 

While he knew just how serious everything was right now he couldn’t help but stop and stare at Jean. Sure, she may have been going through a crisis right now but it was nice to just be alone with her being the true her again. A smile quirked up across his face before he wiped it away with his remaining hand.

He wanted to ask about the kiss on the moon and the one on Krakoa but he knew there were more pressing matters than that right now, no matter how much he wanted to focus on other things. “Alright Jean. What can I do to help ya out here? You’ve got a lot to unpack and I’m here for you if you want to do that now.”

Erik stayed. Thinking back, there wasn’t really any other option. It was either stay, or leave and be on his own. Completely on his own. Which, truthfully, was not out of the question-- there were times when he chose to be alone over and over again because of one reason or another. But when the meeting with the Avengers went south, when Jean walked out from the hole blasted through the wall-- the thought of leaving hadn’t even come close to crossing his mind. He needed to stay. He needed to make sure there was at least one other person standing between her and Emma. And Jean had said herself that she didn’t want him to leave. So-- there was no other option. He stayed.

There was a lot to process after that meeting. Erik found himself in a strange state, like everything was jolted off-center. He was angry and he was oddly sad, even though Jean was with them again. She was here but she wasn’t here. And it was that intangible distance that unsettled him the most.

He wanted to spend as much time with Jean as he could. Even with all his anger and confusion at the situation they had all been thrown into, his priority was giving Jean her life back. Not that he had much clue as to how to go about that, but he had to try. He had to try.

After yesterday’s funeral Jimmy was on edge. So much damn chaos and he felt partially responsible for it, but it wasn’t just about his own guilt, it was his concern for a loved one that kept him on edge. Seeing Jean flare up like that was scary, not just because she hurt him or because she was powerful but because he was concerned for her. He could sense her anxiety build as her heart began to pound and her body released adrenaline and cortisol, she was scared and there was nothing he could do to help her get through that, so he did all he could. He listened to the older Jean. Once they were back at the mansion he hooked her up to fluids and the equipment, took her vitals, and has since sat there in a chair by her side, only getting up to stretch his legs or grab another energy drink. It was strange for him to see her like that, so vulnerable and unaware. He took it as his responsibility to protect her and be there in case anything went wrong. 

Jimmy doing his best to keep from nodding off had his attention snapped back to Jean as he began to hear her heartbeat hasten. She was waking up. Scooting to the edge of his seat he reached out to put his hand on hers but hesitated. Pulling his hand back he spoke up. “Hey Jean.” His tone was far more gentle than what most were used to hearing from him. “You’re okay, just take it easy. I’m here.” He said not sure if she had even woken up yet.

The journey home was one of silence. Erik’s silence has always been one of cold stoicism and unbreakable reserve. But this— this was different. As he traveled with Jean, the silence that overtook him stemmed from the fact that he felt defeated. It was tiring to have someone race through your mind and burn through the things you thought had been holding it together. But as it turns out, all those walls just made him weak. They were false pillars and columns and walls, separating him from himself and everything he cared about. Now that they were all gone, things were clearer. But he hated what he saw. He absolutely despised what he had become, and even while his mind was heavy and worn, it had enough energy to fill him with guilt and shame.

Erik kept the fragments of his helmet in hand the entire trip. He held them tightly, kept them close, but did nothing with them. Forging the two pieces together to create a makeshift helmet was possible, and the idea had crossed his mind, but Erik chose to kept the pieces exactly as they were. Jean had done what she needed to in order to get inside his mind— under different circumstances he would have furious with her. But she saved him. And she spared him. This helmet meant nothing if the person wearing it didn’t deserve its protection, and right now he knew he didn’t.

Once they arrived, Erik’s stomach immediately twisted into knots. His fight or flight instincts kicked in and told him to turn and run back to Genosha. It was easier to handle pain like this alone. That’s what Erik believed. It was hard enough facing Jean after she entered his mind, but now he was about to see the younger Jean and it filled him with dread. One Jean was a mourning mother of a child he killed. The other was the daughter he betrayed because of his own fear. So much pain between three people, and he wondered how they would ever move on from it all.

Erik crossed the illusion barrier and saw her immediately. They were all safe here for now, and Erik was willing to do whatever it took to keep it that way. But right now he would rather fight hundreds of battles than have the conversation that was about to occur. He froze after a few steps, eyes glued to the young telepath and feeling his heart break all over again.

He remembered Jean’s words, that her younger self might not be as quick to forgive as she was. And before he started walking towards her, he wondered if he deserved any forgiveness at all.

Erik approached slowly, hands clasping his helmet fragments in front of him as he moved. “I’m sure you will be surprised to see me..” His tone was soft and cautious. “But I have nothing to hide. I wasn’t myself the last time we saw each other, but that’s been rectified. And I.. I am so sorry, Jean.”

Jean Grey-- The Phoenix. Their best chance at saving their race. Powerful telepath and telekinetic. Lost control and was terminated, then resurrected to fulfill her purpose. 

There was a war coming and he needed to be ready for it. Erik took time to study his chessboard when his mind hit a rut-- glancing over the pieces, running through different strategies. Wars, like the game of chess, required sacrifice. They were not won or fought on the backs of the weak. This was a fight for their survival-- and Jean was the most valuable piece on their side of the board. He had never been particularly fond of her, but it wasn’t with kindness or familiarity that they would win this fight. It was with power.

No matter how hard he scrubbed his skin clean, the blood never really seemed to wash off. Not completely. Not in anyway that felt like it was truly gone. Even though he couldn’t see it there anymore, it was still there. And it was always like that, every time the blades emerged from between his knuckles and every time they were hidden away again. But this especially.. this was worse.

What was he good at? Killing. Surviving. Maybe the list ended there. In the days after the incident in Times Square Logan had been walking the halls of the school with new weight dragging him down. A student was gone. And not just any student-- Jean.

There were times when he closed his eyes and he saw her, that look of horror and shock blazing across her face before it fell lifeless. How could he have done that? It was the impossible decision-- either do nothing and let the city pay the price, or stop her before it got worse. It was the impossible decision and he made it, and now he had to live with the consequences.

Something brought him out of the trance he had been caught in as he stood near the window of the room. He blinked at the sun pouring through the glass and then rubbed his eyes, trying to rid them of that heavy and tired feeling they always seemed to have. Then he turned around, remembering Jean was with him and hoping she hadn’t said anything while he was lost in the fog. He made his way over to the bed and sat down on the edge of it with a sigh.

The headache that Erik had acquired after the funeral was quite annoying. It was the kind that was always there, but then ebbed and flowed like a ringing in his brain. Jean’s second wave of energy had resulted in his smacking his head on the ground pretty hard, and maybe a few bruised ribs-- but altogether he was lucky. Nothing severe. He had felt worse.

It was Jean he was worried about, not himself. His worst fear was history repeating itself. And right now, it seemed like nothing he’s done or said has made any difference in preventing that from happening. It was terrifying. 

When he made the decision to go visit her a few days later, he also made the decision the shove all that fear down. It wouldn’t help her to see that he was scared. It would only make her more worried, more anxious, more likely to lose control again. So she would get a calm and collected Erik instead.