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Peter smacked against the fire escape at just the wrong angle, and a sharp pain stabbed into his hip and somehow lanced all the way up to his shoulder. Ow. He would feel that in the morning. Yeah, he really wasn’t in high school anymore.
“Hey, Scorpion?” he called. “Aren’t you getting a little tired of this? Because I am.”
“It’ll stop when you stop getting in my way!” Scorpion shouted, his barbed tail swinging back towards Peter.
“Sorry, not happening, buddy.” Peter sprang out of the way as Scorpion’s tail pulverized the wall behind him. He fired a web at Scorpion’s face and used the strand to yank him off-balance as Scorpion spluttered and clawed at the webbing.
Incoming call, came E.V.’s smooth voice. Jean Grey.
“Oh, shoot. Sorry, Mac, mind if I take this?” Peter blasted Scorpion with webbing until he was completely ensconced in a sticky cocoon. That would keep him occupied for a few seconds, maybe. “Jean! How are you?”
“I’m fine.” A pause. “You sound out of breath.”
“What? No—no I’m not.”
“Are you in the middle of a fight? Because I can call another time—”
“No!” Peter suppressed a yelp as Scorpion’s tail broke through the webbing and hooked around Peter, slamming him into the ground. “E.V., mute background noise! Jean, I’ve got all the time in the world for you, I swear.”
“Um. Okay.”
“Is there something you wanted to talk about?”
“I just…well, there’s this school.”
“School? School is great.”
“Yeah. The headmaster reached out to me.” Jean hesitated. “He says it’s for kids…kids like me.”
“You mean—” It was a little hard to concentrate on Jean’s words when he was being swung wildly by Scorpion’s tail.
“Weirdos. Freaks. Kids with abilities that scare the people around them.”
That got his attention. He stomped hard on the tail, forcing it to let him go. “You are not a freak, Jean.”
“You know what I mean,” she sighed. “Well, anyway, I wanted to…to ask if you would come visit the school with me. Just like…check it out. Not that you have to. I can go by myself, if you’re busy.”
Peter heard the note of anxiety underneath her words. He should’ve realized what she needed earlier. A girl with her past, going to a new place, with people always interested in what she could do…
He slingshot himself towards Scorpion, landing a kick that knocked him out cold. He mentally filed away a reminder to call Detective DeWolff to pick him up later. “Of course I’ll come, Jean.”
Peter pulled onto the gravel driveway. He read the golden lettering on the large plaque. Xavier’s School for Gifted Youngsters.
Jean fidgeted in the passenger seat. He glanced over. “Don’t worry,” he said. “If anything happens, I’m here.”
She rolled her eyes. “I trapped square kilometers of New York City in a psionic prison by accident. What are you gonna do, climb a wall and tell a joke?”
Peter laughed. “Alright, fine. My jokes are pretty good though.” Jean elbowed him, but she was smiling.
The gates swung open by themselves, and as Peter drove up towards the mansion that loomed before them, a man in a wheelchair rolled out to meet them. He watched them with inscrutable gray eyes.
He smiled when Jean emerged from the car. “Jean. I’m so glad you’re here at last.” His brows furrowed when Peter stepped out too. “And this is…”
“Peter. You must be Charles Xavier.” Peter felt a familiar, odd sort of pressure behind his eyes. “And I would appreciate it if you didn’t try to poke around in my mind.”
Charles blinked, the only thing betraying his surprise. “Sorry. Force of habit. I take it you’re familiar with our world, then?”
“You could say that.”
Jean glanced between the two of them. “I asked Peter to come with me. He’s my, um…”
“I’m her brother.” Peter put his arm protectively around Jean’s shoulders.
“Oh, I see,” Charles said. “I thought you said you didn’t have any family left, Jean.”
She hesitated, then took a breath. “No. I do.”
“Of course.” Charles’ smile didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Right this way, please.”
He led the way down the corridors of the mansion. “I founded this school as a safe haven for mutants like Jean.”
Mutant. The word left a bitter taste in Peter’s mouth. Genetic anomalies, aberrations of nature. It conjured up the old sci-fi movies he used to watch with Ned, aliens from other worlds and insectoid monsters born from a mad scientist’s lab.
Something in need of an inhibitor.
Charles noticed Peter’s reaction without needing to read his mind. “I don’t use that as a dirty word, Peter. It is a statement of fact. The students at this school have…unique genes, but genes that grant them wonderful gifts. This will be a place where they can safely learn to—”
“To control them?”
“No. To use them.”
After the tour, Charles led them back to the front door. Peter had to admit it had been impressive. He’d always had the thought in the back of his mind that he might like to be a teacher someday.
“You don’t have to decide now, Jean,” Charles said. “But I do hope to hear from you soon. I would be very lucky to have a student like you here.”
Charles rolled away. Peter turned to Jean. “What do you think?”
She chewed on her lip. “I don’t know. What do you think?”
He sighed, hoping Jean couldn’t pick up on his flood of anxious thoughts. “It sounds great and all, but…I just worry about you. Is it really safe here? Has this Professor Xavier kept his students safe before?” He was starting to sound like May.
“Uh, I think I might be the first student.”
“What?”
“I can take care of myself, Peter.”
“I know.” He rubbed his forehead. “Well, it’s up to you.”
Jean leaned against the wall. “I don’t know. I’ve been alone for so long. I mean, I had Sara, and then you, and Frank, but this…this would be different. Other kids, just like me.”
“I get it. It’s scary,” Peter said. “Trying something different.”
Jean tugged at her sleeve. “Yeah, I guess.”
He lifted her chin. “You can’t let that stop you. Sometimes, the scary thing is exactly what you need.” Peter took her by the shoulders. “You want to come here. I don’t need to be a telepath to see that. Don’t lie to me, and don’t lie to yourself.”
Jean’s eyes glistened. “Everything in my life goes wrong eventually. What if…”
“Anything can go wrong. Living is taking that risk. Besides, I’ll only be a few hours away.”
Jean glared at him. “For the last time, I’m way more powerful than you—”
“Hey!”
“By the time you can convince Frank to let you borrow his car again and drive over here—”
“Drive? I’ll swing.”
“Swing? Swing from what? The trees?”
“Alright, alright, you know what I mean.” Peter pushed her away from him. “This could be good for you, Jean. This could be a home. A family.”
“Maybe,” Jean shrugged. “But I meant what I said. I already have a family.”
Peter tried to swallow the lump in his throat.
“Peter?” A knock sounded on the door. “We’re here!”
“Hey!” Peter dropped the pan on the stove with a clatter. He winced and squeezed his burned fingertips. “Uh, come in. The door should be unlocked.”
Jean opened the door. Peter realized that the sight of the young woman he now saw was a far cry from the lonely, angry orphan he once knew. Her eyes were brighter, her smile wider. She looked…happy. Peter couldn’t help himself. He rushed over and wrapped her in a tight hug. “How are you?” he asked.
“I’m fine,” Jean said, muffled into his shoulder.
“Really? Because I heard that you guys fought Sentinels again—”
“Yes.” She tried to extricate herself from his grasp. “Stop worrying so much. They’re just big dumb robots.”
“Robots can be plenty scary—” Beeping pulled his attention away. “Sorry. That’s the potatoes.”
After several more minutes of Peter wrestling with every pan he owned (Where had they all come from? How did they all fit in his tiny cabinets?), they were all seated around the kitchen table. Peter sighed as he looked at the result of hours of his labor. Overcooked chicken, mushy peas…
“It’s fine, Peter,” Jean said, reading his expression. “We’re just happy to be here.”
He nodded. “Well, it could be worse. You should see the times Aunt May forgot she had even put anything in the oven.” He glanced at the third member of their group. “Sorry, Scott. Not the best first impression.”
“I’m sure it’s delicious, Mr. Parker.” The boy fiddled with his red-tinted sunglasses. “I hope you don’t think I’m being rude, not taking these off, I—”
“I understand, Scott,” Peter said. “Believe me, everything in this apartment is so cheap, blasting it with your eyes might be an improvement.”
Scott laughed nervously. “I guess the X-Men show up enough in the news for me to be recognizable now.”
“You guys do blow up a lot of buildings,” Peter said. “But I also like to stay on top of things happening in the superhero world.”
Jean elbowed Scott. “Tell him about your favorite superhero.”
“Huh?”
She smirked. “It’s Spider-Man.”
Scott turned pink. “He just seems like a good person, is all. Always looking out for the little guy, you know.”
Peter laughed. “Yeah, I like Spider-Man too.”
“You know,” Jean said, “Peter knows Spider-Man, actually.”
Scott’s jaw dropped. Peter kicked Jean under the table. Stop teasing him!
“Yeah, I met him a few times, nice guy,” Peter said. “Maybe you’ll get to team up with him at some point, who knows?”
Scott looked ready to faint.
After a few more hours, where the conversation and company were much better than the food, Peter said goodbye to the two of them in front of his apartment building. “Be safe, alright?” he said, hugging Jean. “And come back soon. MJ wants to see you again.”
“I will,” she said. “She’s much funnier than you are.”
He rolled his eyes and poked Scott in the shoulder. “And you. You take care of her, okay?”
Scott shifted uncomfortably. “Peter!” Jean complained. “You act like we’re dating.”
He frowned. “Are you not? Because I saw the way you two were acting. Aren’t you a mind reader? Can’t you tell how much he likes you?”
Scott’s eyes blazed behind his sunglasses. Jean pressed her hands to her face. “You are so embarrassing.”
Peter grinned, but he shot Scott a serious look. “I mean it. Watch out for her, or you’ll have me to deal with.”
Scott didn’t say it, but he thought it. I’m in the X-Men. Aren’t you just a normal guy…?
Peter felt the prickling in the back of his neck. Across the street, a man shouted, “Hey! Muties!”
On pure instinct, Peter’s hand shot out and caught the crumpled can before it smacked into Scott’s face. Scott took a step back. “How did you…”
“I’m a really good lawyer,” Peter said.
Jean scowled. “You’re not a lawyer.”
“I know, but unemployed loser doesn’t sound as good.” Peter sighed. “Whatever. You don’t get it. It’s cooler when Matt says it.”
For the first time, Scott understood what the old stories meant when they described the gods as both terrible and beautiful.
Jean hung suspended in the air, arms outstretched, as if in worship to a deity only she knew. Or maybe to herself. Her eyes burned gold. Her veins were alive with fire, as if the power within her was fracturing her body from the inside out. Swathes of flame enveloped her and flared outward, like two great wings.
The X-Men threw everything they had at her. None of it was any use. She could make anything dissolve away into nothingness with a thought. She was untouchable, and divine, and hungry.
“Jean!” Scott shouted hoarsely, trying to press forward through the blazing heat. “Please. I know you’re still in there. Please, just…just come back to me.”
But the girl he loved was gone, swallowed up in all-consuming power.
The Phoenix fixed her icy glare at him and extended her hand towards him, ready to tear each of his atoms apart. But then, she suddenly paused. She slumped, her eyes lolling back. The fire died away, just a little.
Professor X gritted his teeth, sweat dripping from his forehead. “I’ve temporarily put mental blocks on her, but they won’t hold for long. We can’t defeat her. You have to get through to her.”
“I can’t,” Scott gasped. “She’s not listening to me.”
“Is there anyone else?” Professor X asked, gripping his temples. “Anyone at all she might listen to?”
One name popped into Scott’s head.
Spider-Man arrived just as Jean broke out of Professor X’s control with enough force to send him flying backwards. She screamed, the inferno around her swirling with renewed vigor, transforming the air into plasma.
“Jean!” Peter yanked off his mask. “Jean, it’s me. I’m here.”
The surprise of the newcomer was enough to momentarily distract Jean from her bloodlust. She blinked. “Peter?”
“Yeah. It’s Peter. You remember me, don’t you?”
She gave a small, hesitant nod.
“Listen, Jean, a lot of people are getting hurt. People who care about you. People who you care about. I know what you’re feeling is scary, and overwhelming, but—”
“No.” Her voice roared with the roiling power of the sun. “You don’t know. No one does!”
He barely jumped out of the way before a torrent of flame scorched the ground he had been standing on. “Hey, Professor!” he shouted, swinging back around towards Jean. “A little mind meddling might be good right about now!”
Professor X wiped the blood from his face and concentrated. As Peter dove straight into the hellish furnace Jean had created around herself, the grounds of the X-Mansion fell away. Suddenly, Peter was standing back in his old childhood bedroom. His breath hitched a little as he looked at the creaky bunk bed, the desk where he did calculus homework. Things he hadn’t seen in years.
The hallway stretched into darkness. An echoing boom rattled it, and in the shadows, a flame flared and quickly grew. A raptor’s screech pierced the silence.
“You think this does anything?” Jean hissed, flying out of the fire. “You think you can trap me in here?”
“I’m not doing any trapping,” Peter said. “I just wanted to talk to you.”
“Talking won’t do any good.” She glared at him with murderous fury. The bedroom’s walls started to go up in smoke. Peter didn’t know what would happen if his mind burned up, but he felt like it wouldn’t be good.
“What, you think just because you have more power now, you don’t have to listen to me?” The words came out almost subconsciously. He had treasured them for so long, repeated them to himself in the darkest hours of the night.
Jean hesitated, and he knew that she remembered those words too.
“I know that this whole thing has already gotten really scary,” he said softly. He looked straight at her, trying to make her feel the force behind each of his words. “And things are already changing very quickly. But I hope you still know that the people who love you…I love you, not because you’re special, but because you’re you.”
Jean’s eyes glistened. “My power…it’s all I am. I need more. I need…to feed…”
“That’s not true, Jean. It never has been. Your power doesn’t control you. You control it.”
Peter met her too-bright eyes, burning like stars. “When I met you, I had…something inside of me too. Something that was changing me. Something that scared me. But facing you made me face it. It made me realize that change is just life. That’s all that mutations are, after all. As we live, it’s impossible for us to not change.”
He grasped her hand, ignoring the searing pain. “They tell me you have the Phoenix Force. The cosmic manifestation of life itself. It’s changing you, isn’t it?”
Jean’s shoulders trembled. “I don’t know what it’s changing me into.”
“I don’t think it’s a matter of knowing. I think it’s a matter of deciding.” He placed his hand over her heart. “I know you’ll figure it out. And while you do, know that you’re not alone. You never have been.”
Her heart thrummed under his fingers. And as she looked into his kind eyes, she remembered something distant, from long ago, when their hearts had beat as one, when they had breathed as one, when she had lived for him for days and begged him not to die.
They were back in the mangled grounds of the X-Mansion. Fire swirled around them. Peter’s suit was badly scorched, half of it gone, his skin blistering under the intense heat. Still, he smiled at her.
She remembered the first time she had seen him smile like that. In that sterile, shattered room, her own personal hell. He had entered it, with his unbreakable hope and inexhaustible gentleness, looking to save her, even while her hands came away with his blood.
Jean looked at his battered, burned face. She looked at the X-Men, the family she had and had now lost, staring at her in horror. And she looked at Scott. She had known he was meant to be their leader, even when he didn’t know it himself. But now, he just looked broken and directionless.
Her tears sizzled against her superheated skin. She let go of Peter, and he fell backwards, finally surrendering to heat stroke. She lifted her face towards the sky. In a streak of flame, she vanished, flying deep into space, far beyond the reach of Earth and the home she always ended up destroying.
The gravestone was simple. Just a block of stone, with her name and the two years. He had tried hard to come up with an epitaph, something meaningful. She deserved that from him, didn’t he? But Scott hadn’t been able to come up with anything that summed up everything Jean had been, and so there was now nothing.
He stood there, staring at the gravestone, letting the cold rain soak him down to the bone. Footsteps squelched in the mud behind him.
“I told you to take care of her,” Peter said.
“I know,” Scott said weakly. He turned to look at his hero’s face. It was still healing, the ugly burns slowly fading. Peter’s jaw was set tightly, his eyes hard.
“What happened?” Peter asked.
Scott thought about explaining. How the X-Men had gone searching for her, how the Shi’ar had found her first. Their demand for justice, the duel for honor for satisfaction. The way Jean had finally looked at him as she incinerated herself, taking herself out on her own terms, as herself.
He tried to recount all of this, but he didn’t have the energy to. All of it just felt like excuses. “It’s my fault,” he said hoarsely. It was, even if he didn’t actually strike the killing blow. He should’ve been there for her. He should’ve found a way to save her.
Scott expected Peter to yell at him, or punch him, or something. He would deserve it. He had failed Jean. The pain would break through the numbness just for a moment.
But Peter sighed, and his face softened a little. “I’ve spent too many hours staring at gravestones and blaming myself. Enough for both of us, Scott.” He crouched down and placed a bouquet of carnations at the base of the stone, then kissed his fingers and pressed them to her name.
He stood and patted Scott’s shoulder, holding his umbrella over both of them. “I told Jean something a while ago,” he said. “I think you might need to hear it too. You can’t do this alone. And you don’t need to.”
Peter wrapped his arm around the boy. Scott leaned into him despite himself. For at least that moment, neither of them were alone.