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Yuriko is kind enough to drop them off at the mansion. It's only because she feels bad for Morph. She drops Sabertooth off as soon as they find something close to civilization, but she lets the two of them stick around. Morph don't question it. She's been the kindest to them all day, including their best friend in the world. Who still isn't looking at them. So far the adamantium claws have gotten more screen time in Logan's eyes than the person who gave them to him.
They leave the stolen jet, wave goodbye to Yuriko, and they don't look at Logan. Luckily, their furry friend would rather impale himself than talk about feelings. Morph is still holding their shoulder tight.
Stab wounds and all.
They make their way to the med bay, barely talk to Forge as he tries his best to fix the open wound still in their shoulder, and then they leave for the backyard. No one stops them. Their best guess is that Logan has cleared a path full of angst for them. Good.
The entire back lawn and the forest stretches out in infinity. There is an entire world full of people who they could have fallen for. They could still fall for someone else. They could ignore steely blues eyes and a voice that burrows into their very soul. If they were someone else, and every single thing that happened in their life was different. With more force than necessary, they slam the sliding door shut.
Then they scream for a little. Or for a while. Until their throat feels hoarse and their heart hurts a little less; the time slips away from them in the cacophony.
Their shoulder still hurts like hell. Three equally ragged and deep wounds with shards of bone were lodged deep into their muscles. Maybe in the wake of Sinister they would have been sentimental over having a piece of Logan with them at all times. Now it just aches. A very mild healing factor does nothing to fix him in a day.
This whole fucking day, Morph did nothing but protect him. This whole fucking day, they put up with lies, crazy exes, and an infestation of alien bugs. Sabertooth decided to be more trustworthy than Logan. Two people died today because of those lies. Morph was willing to die for him. They're the only reason that Logan even got his skeleton back, and it still didn't give them an edge over being ginger.
Because why would it?
Why would they be anything more to him than the stupid sidekick that tags along on adventures? The loyal dog. The Tomoe. The broken doll. They're the thing Logan uses to feel good about himself. They thought they were fine with the idea of being whatever Logan wanted if it meant being near him. Moons stay in their orbit, but they stay.
"Do you feel better now?"
They turn, and it's Jean. Of course. The world's most genetically perfect woman as decided by Sinister and the rest of the universe has decided to grace them with her presence and wisdom. They've been in that body, felt every strand of her perfectly styled hair and stunning blue eyes and perfect voice. Usually, they hold some respect for the people whose shape they wear: for a teammate.
Morph just can't today. "I hate you."
Jean's face tilts into confusion and hurt. It's the face Morph had to pull four hours ago to stop a colony of alien bugs from taking over the world. They scream again. It is a wretched sound fit for a creature like them.
"You're so perfect, aren't you? Perfect husband, perfect kid, perfect body. You're the best woman anyone can ask for." They throw their hands up. "Of course you're what he wants. You'll never give him anything, but it doesn't matter."
"Stop." She steps away from them. "What is going on? Logan went straight to the danger room, and now-"
"Now I'm done! God, it doesn't matter what he does, does it? You have Scott, but you can't tell him no, and so nothing will ever change. He'll never get over it. He'll never give up on you."
Telekinesis forces their mouth shut. "Enough. You don't get to talk to me like this, no matter what happened."
They yell through closed lips. As much as it pains them to agree, Jean shouldn't bear the brunt of their anger. She just makes a target that hides the man that deserves anger. She's the person they would die to be.
Jean keeps their mouth closed. "If you want to talk like an adult, I'm here."
They nod, but Morph will break in two if they have to explain it. "Please just read my mind."
"Are you-,"
"Jean. Look."
The memory flashes in their mind all over again, but it's tinged with blue at the edges now she's watching. Saying yes, meeting the family (for lack of a better word). Then lie after lie after lie until they had to beg their best friend to not kill them. They believed it would be enough. Logan got to them through Mr. Sinister, why couldn't they? It was the closest they had ever gotten to saying it. Three words. They feel the hitch of breath all over again and then…
Claws. Their blood on his claws.
It's a novel experience, being stabbed three times at once. The creature that is wearing his friend's bones doesn't care that Morph would give up all that they've ever had in this earth for their confession to work. They can feel Jean's disappointment as she watches the memory of the idea. The memory and them now and she sigh in unison.
Becoming Jean is second nature. And it works. It almost hurts as much as his stab wounds.
They want Jean out of their skull now. She flits out of their mind and the blue fades. She whispers their name in the quintessential Jean fashion, and it makes them open their eyes once more. Looking into hers makes them want to vomit. The clearest and brightest blue irises that the human body can possibly create are staring at them with so much pity. She has this awful expression like she understands. Like she isn't angry at Morph for hating her.
"I wish he could look up," Jean says.
"I wish that you had stayed in the future with Scott," They sit down on the soft grass. "I wish you died as Phoenix. I wish that Apocalypse kills us all and the skeleton I gave him doesn't save anyone!"
They hear her sit down. They're not touching, but they can feel her arm next to theirs. Silence stretches between them as the sun sets behind them. The sky is doing it's own shape shifting. Purples and blues and pinks merge together in the softest gradient possible.
Morph closes their eyes. "And I wish I meant any of it."
She hums. Jean doesn't leave. There are absolutely more important things that are going on right now, and she stays. She could probably go wander into the arms of her perfect husband and lament about the poor unloved shape shifter in their home. But her hand finds its way to their shoulder.
"I'm glad you don't, Morph." She sighs. "You deserve someone who loves you."
"Logan has that, and look how he's doing." It's the closest they've ever been to admitting it out loud.
Another few seconds, and Jean squeezes their shoulder. "What would you do with him, if you could?"
And it's so stupid too. Morph barely thinks as their left hand turns into his. They interlock their fingers together, and nearly sob. Just once, they'd want this to happen. Just once, they want him to reach first.
"It was a similar feeling when Scott was spending so much time with Madeline." Jean places her hand over their own and squeezes. Her hands aren't calloused. They'll have to take that into account next time they're Jean. "Obviously it wasn't the same, but she was someone who gave everything to him, and he loved her for it. And I couldn't."
"He still chose you." Morph says petulantly.
"I want him to choose you."
"…Scott?"
"Logan."
There is a beat between them, and then Morph starts laughing. The hypothetical of Jean Grey valiantly giving up her husband forces giggle after demented giggle from their lips. Arms wrap around their shoulders, and Jean laughs with them. They project the idea of Scott professing his love to Morph through song. A Pavarotti-level operatic performance. She sends back an image of Sentinels tap dancing in the background. They have bow ties. It is stupid and real and they love her so much. They hate that they do.
Soon the image shifts into Jean then going to run into the sunset with Logan. Giggles turn into racking sobs. Ugly things that burst forth with the same rhythm and lack of control. Jean still holds him. She really is the perfect woman, and they are neither woman nor perfect.
"This sucks." They fight their stupid lungs to speak.
"I know." Jean pulls back, wiping the tears from their face. "But good for us. The world is ending and that will distract you."
"Ugh." Morph flops down onto the grass. "How many times do we have to beat the same bad guys?"
"At least one more time."
They'll say it after this time. They'll tell him, and then maybe they can move on.
For now, They can watch the skyline with a friend.