This story features the X-Men and other related characters, which are copyrighted by Marvel Entertainment/Marvel Comics Group and are used without permission. The use of these characters in this story is not intended to infringe on that copyright. No profit is being made on this work, it's written solely for entertainment purposes. This work is copyright of me and may not be used for commercial purposes.
It's All In Your Head: Part Twenty Three
by sevenall
Elizabeth found Jean on all fours in the hallway, picking glass shards out of the carpet and crying. The first was evident, the other less so. Her fingers were already bleeding from a dozen cuts.
"Hey," Elizabeth said, hunching down beside the other woman. "Don't. Stains on the carpet."
"Oh. It's you." Jean wiped her nose on her sleeve, miserably.
"Yep. You got anything to say before I leave?"
"Would you listen?"
Whatever Jean was, she wasn't a coward. She could ask tough questions better than anyone else Elizabeth knew. She wasn't always good at handling the answers she got, but that was another matter.
"I think so," Elizabeth answered mildly.
"I was out of line," Jean conceded.
"So was I. That wasn't really what I had in mind."
As in most of their skirmishes, one debt had cancelled out the other. Tit for tat.
"I did want to ask you...When you killed them, how did you feel?"
Emerald eyes locked onto Elizabeth's. Not angry, only very intense. Scared, too.
"How I felt?" Elizabeth mused. "Powerful. Like I couldn't make a mistake if I tried. Omnipotent, I guess."
"What else?"
"Excited. Not happy, just...I don't know, high? And then I began to get frightened, because I wanted to stop and I couldn't."
"I don't remember," Jean said slowly. "I have the memories of it as it happened, but they are constrained to the facts. I was hungry. I ate a sun. A planet died. That's all I know. I have no emotions connected to the event. When I think of it now, it's in a very detached way, like it happened to someone else, or like it didn't happen at all."
"It did. Never doubt that."
"I don't. Except in my dreams."
"What do you dream of?"
"A house in the suburbs. A husband that loves me. A few children. No mutations, no saving the world on a regular basis. I want an ordinary life."
"I would be content with any kind of life," Elizabeth said wistfully. "But I see what you mean."
"I know you do. I'm sorry."
"Jean, I know I'm out of my depth with the Phoenix thing. But if I may give you any advice, talk to Emma about it. I know you don't like her, but she's good. She's sharp and level-headed. Talk to the Professor, talk to Scott, hell, call me and I'll listen, at least."
"That's generous of you, Betsy. Thanks."
"Yeah, whatever. Will you keep an eye on Warren for me?"
"I will."
Elizabeth picked up a large glass sliver and handed it to Jean. It was part of the antique looking glass Warren had bought in France and enthusiastically carried home, though it weighed more than he did. In the small cracked mirror, their gazes met and partly overlapped, green mixed with purple, Asian cheekbones with Caucasian, fiery locks with purple tresses so dark as to be almost black. It was a disturbing picture.
"We look..." Elizabeth began.
."..the same," Jean finished. "But we aren't, are we?"
"No. Not even two sides of the same coin.Or so I've always thought."
Jean breathed on the glass and the mirror misted over.
"Now we're in there together," she murmured. "Whatever we are."