Chapter 4: What If Emma Joined the Original X-Men?
A cold, dark night this was. My breath billowed from my mouth and framed the streets in a trippy haze. Streetlights burst through my wall of fog as the breeze from incoming cars ripped the ephemeral barrier to shreds. In my bone white fingers I clutched a now-worn strip of paper. Scrawled on it in messy yet captivating print: “Jean. Café Roma. 8 PM.”
I folded the paper again and stuffed it into my jacket pocket.
Jean. I didn’t even know her, but she passed me this note at the end of my econ class, said “I can help you with what you’re going through,” and left without another peep.
The day degenerated into a blur once I read the missive. Couldn’t wait to be done with classes, couldn’t wait to get back to the dorms, couldn’t wait to wait out the five hours, couldn’t wait to walk to Empire University’s most famous (and quite frankly, only) coffee house. I kept going back to the flaming red hair and penetrating green eyes reading me, knowing me without knowing me. Then and there, we communicated more through a shared look than volumes of text could convey. She said nothing about mutants or hearing other’s thoughts. She didn’t look or sound enthusiastic. She was the picture perfect avatar of trouble, yet somehow, I knew she was my salvation.
Call it woman’s intuition.
Café Roma’s neon sign appeared around the corner, its lights accentuated by the night mist and broken streetlight. Empty newspaper machines passed me by, their mocking, moodless interiors and cracked glass fronts making this Manhattan street all the more menacing.
I took out the note again. It still said “Jean.” It still said “Café Roma.” It still said “8 PM.” Back in my pocket it went.
Acid jazz floated out opened doors. Coffee filled aromas warmed my nose. This late, students still flooded the chic place for their fix of caffeine either to pursue those precious studying hours or recharge for another round of binge drinking. I looked through the sign riddled window and caught a glimpse of Jean nestled in the corner booth.
She stared at me and smiled.
Hooks dug into my chest and caused a film of cold sweat to break loose. The anticipation of meeting someone else like me was too much. I wasn’t the only freak in this world; I wasn’t alone. If her words held any truth, then she could do something about the otherly chaos in my head, about the emotions swimming inside of me that weren’t mine. Maybe I’d even be able to sleep tonight without someone else’s nightmares waking me.
Then again, she could be someone using me, someone like everyone else in my life. I still remembered my staged kidnapping that turned too real and the debacle that lead to me pocketing enough of dear Daddy’s money to come to this school. I still remembered every aching second of it, and here, outside of Café Roma, the memory wouldn’t be ignored.
“Jean” could be a government agent trained to seek and destroy mutants. Those deemed important would be shipped off to an undisclosed facility and reprogrammed to be tools. Jean could’ve been that and much worse, perhaps even a power-hungry, manipulative mutant who long ago figured out the vulnerabilities of those like me.
Maybe mutants have been around for centuries and only now have they burst into the public eye. Maybe Jean was an ancient force like a god, slowly but surely untapping the potential in normal people.
Or maybe I spent too much time in front of the TV. My imagination started running away from me again. Maybe she was one of those religious girls from one of those many church groups and knew about mutants. Maybe she had nothing to do with mutants at all and was just one of those religious girls.
“You’ve been standing here for a long time.”
Doubtful.
This Jean behind me looked nothing like the one I saw this morning or the ones I dreamed about in my head. She was warm and inviting, a spoonful of wholesomeness and a nice helping of strength. She couldn’t be older than me, but yet, something about her made her seem... experienced.
“Sorry for being so dramatic earlier. I had an appointment to catch and, well, you know how that goes.”
Her hands nestled two foam cups of steaming hot coffee. She offered one of them to me--which I gratefully took--and tucked her lawless red hair behind her ear.
“My full name’s Jean Grey, by the way. What’s yours?”
I couldn’t quite put together the person before me. Was she danger or safety? Where in the alluring face did I spot the seedlings of trouble? What about her glued my mind to her? What kind of things had she seen to get to this point today? Was she a friend or just another user taking advantage of me?
I tested my coffee and marveled at how I didn’t fall over unconscious or dead. Ok, so maybe she wasn’t part of a government conspiracy. “I’m Emma Frost,” I replied, “and I hope you pulled me out of my dorm room for good reason.”
“How does getting control of your mutant powers sound?”
My fingers almost let go of the cup but an unseen force held it up, allowing me time to recover and reestablish my grip. The couple who walked by didn’t even look at us funny considering Jean uttered the increasingly inflammatory “m”-word.
“My power is telekinesis,” she supplied, answering the question on the tip of my tongue, “I can move things with my mind and I’m starting to learn how to make shields. So far, all I’ve been able to do is make a soundproof bubble and keep falling coffee cups afloat, but it’s something.”
It was all very interesting, but “How can you help me?”
She took a long drink of her coffee. “There’s this school I’m part of...”
*****************
Three years later at Professor Xavier’s Institute for Gifted Youngsters...
“Oh no, no way, this is not happening.”
Jean spared me a millisecond of her time and lifted herself away from the magazine she’d been reading. “What’s wrong?”
I turned around to show my roommate the dreadful “uniform” the Professor designed for the team. Yellow and blue, this drab and bland mass of material topped itself off with what seemed like a ski mask. And the best part? The little “X” on the belt buckle. That’s right, an “X,” as if dressing up as a cross between bank robbers and roller-skating waitresses wouldn’t draw enough attention, Charles Freakin’ Xavier had to make the lot of us look like we bought our clothes at the Manson Family garage sale.
“I will not be seen with this on my body,” I said, my face hot with embarrassment, frustration, and anger. “This looks more like a clown outfit than anything else, and then fighting in it? Dodging bullets, leaping over incoming steel girders, and battling the Brotherhood in this? Since when was a hot, unwieldy body suit a good idea to scamper around in, especially in the New York summer?”
“You put it like-”
“And the mask!” I continued, cutting her off and not feeling bad because I was on a roll, “Is something this flimsy suppose to hide our secret identity? Look at it! Holes, holes, holes, holes everywhere. The only people not able to identify us would be the deaf and dumb!”
“Emma, it’s really not that bad, and besides, all of us have to wear it so-”
And then an iced up Bobby Drake walked into the mansion living room with nothing but boots and briefs. “Why hello, ladies. Check out Doctor Funkitron’s newest threads.”
The way he pointed to his groin got a bemused chuckle from Jean. As for myself, I hurled the mustard themed bandit outfit at him and stomped out the door.
“If the popsicle gets to run around in his Speedos, then I’ll get to do it in a corset!”
“Whoa, the love doctor has some input on THIS subject matter.”
“Shut it, Bobby!” To prove my point, I pulsed his mind with a shot of psychic energy, enough to cause a stabbing headache for a few seconds. The satisfying scream of pure mental anguish brought me a smile an instant before the Professor’s disembodied voice broke up my fun.
*Emma, we need to have another conversation about your use of telepathy.*
*Great timing, Professor, because we also need to talk about that dreadful uniform you gave us.*
*****************
I put a hand on my hip and straightened my back. “How do I look?”
“Good.”
“Liar,” I grinned. Jean’s shocked expression hadn’t worn down yet and I could see she was responding out of politeness, not honesty. I puckered my lips at our room’s full-length mirror and preened just enough to show off my derriere.
The showboating snapped her out of her daze, long enough for her let go that sigh of disgust she’d been desperately holding back.
Ah ha! “I heard that. Caught you red handed.”
At least she had the wherewithal to look confused. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Emma.”
“You know what I’m talking about. I’m talking about that little breath you puff out when you don’t want to offend someone. I’m talking about the way you roll your eyes when you’ve been caught telling a lie. So?” I asked as I adjusted the tight corset, “What pushed it over the edge? The knee high boots? The leather gloves? The cape?”
“It’s blindingly white.” She paused to look at me again. “That and it tells the world that you regularly shave yourself down there.”
Shave myself down there? I held her gaze and seductively waggled my hips over to her. We were about the same height, she and I, so maintaining eye contact wasn’t just easy, it was almost unavoidable. I got close enough smell the light waft of unidentifiable perfume she dabbed on herself. I got close enough to admire every strand of her hair. I got close enough to swim past her private barriers and wade into the vastness that was distinctly Jean Grey, my roommate, my fellow X-Woman, my best friend.
And sometimes, for just a short while in moments of weakness, I wished for her to be more.
Which was why I clasped her hand in my own and gently brought it to my unclothed inner thigh. “Silky smooth,” I purred, making no secret that I enjoyed her fingers against my sensitive skin, “It’s the same further up too. Want to find out for yourself?”
I imagined her nodding, cheeks flushed and chest tight. I imagined her fighting past my flimsy garment and oh-so-furtively grazing my sex. I imagined her lips on my neck, nipping at my skin and marking me, making me hers. I imagined us tossing around in her bed, her hands fumbling against the knots on the back of my corset while I sucked on her nipples. I imagined how she’d use her telekinesis in ways the Professor never envisioned, satisfying me like no one else could.
I’d tell her how much I loved her, how she had me hook, line, and sinker when she slipped me that terse note back in my old econ class. I’d tell her how much I hated this mansion and all it stood for, how I stayed just to be with her. I’d tell her how she’s been the only person in my life to not use me, to ask for my friendship and never expect anything in return.
I imagined her stroking my chin, tears in her eyes and that brightening smile threatening to break through. I imagined her silencing me with a kiss, her muted affections bleeding into my mind like a waterfall. I imagined her saying how much she loved me, how she secretly pined for me, how her eyes lingered on me whenever I walked out the door, how she always felt whole around me.
Then reality destroyed my fantasies.
Pulling back, Jean went wide eyed in absolute terror. She didn’t even wait for me to smile or apologize, instead slamming past me and gliding away like an arrow. As the remnants of her burning touch faded away, I collapsed onto my bed and massaged my suddenly aching forehead.
“Fuck.”
*****************
“Jean?”
She jumped at the voice. HIS voice. “Scott,” she breathed, “You startled me.”
I’d be startled too if someone suddenly snuck up behind me while I lounged around in the mansion’s backyard in the dead of night. Then again, I’d be startled if I looked a little harder across said backyard (past the pool and the plants) and spotted my roommate--who’d just made a sexual advance on me--hiding behind a bush like a... a... spying type person.
“You’re looking awfully jumpy tonight.”
You’re looking awfully jumpy tonight. What a disgusting, unoriginal guy thing to say to a distraught woman. Had Summers been talking to anyone other than Jean, he would’ve been labeled an opportunistic womanizer for the rest of his nonconvolscent life. Seriously though, “You’re looking awfully jumpy tonight?” That was something Bobby would say after five beers or Warren after six.
“I’ve been... well, it’s... I mean, Emma and I...”
The very mention of my name from her mouth rooted me in place. Across the mansion’s pool they talked, the night’s quiet carrying their voices enough for me to hear them. My conscience protested spying on this encounter, every ounce of it saying that I should walk out there and meet them head on instead of sneaking around. My conscience made me feel bad... for about five seconds. That’s when Scott opened his mouth again and my urge to pull his brain from out of his nostrils peaked at an all time high.
“Here,” he said, shrugging off his jacket and draping it on her shoulders, “You shouldn’t be out here in the cold.”
Correction: now my urge to pull his brain from out of his nostrils peaked at an all time high.
Jean accepted his gesture at face value, smiling and muttering a sniffled “Thanks Scott.”
And then the man went the extra mile to achieve freaky-guy stalkerdom: he sat down next to her and began surreptitiously (at least to himself) testing her to see if his advances would take. “You said something about you and Emma?”
I almost laughed at Summers’ attempt to play the sympathetic listener. If I knew one thing about him from our years together, it’s that he was not a listener. He was a man of action, too absorbed in his plans to accept any feedback and too proud to admit when he was wrong or outmatched. Granted the headstrong qualities made him a decent leader capable of making tough, on-the-fly decisions, but the same stubborn hallmarks made him socially inept.
Centering herself, Jean snuggled further into his jacket and restarted her talk with him. “Scott, have you ever been attracted to the wrong person?”
Behind his ruby quartz glasses, his eyes lit up. His shoulders picked up; his face lost a bit of its stony qualities. He wanted Jean--that in itself was no secret--but he always prevented his own advances out of respect for his leadership position and “team chemistry.”
Wonder what changed his mind tonight. Maybe Jean’s utter vulnerability or maybe his dick finally out dueled his pea-sized brain.
“I’m not sure what you mean,” he said.
He knew exactly what she meant--he lived the role--but like I said, Summers wasn’t a listener. A listener would’ve said “Yes” to enhance their show of empathy. A listener wouldn’t have been so clinical and detached but, at the same time, so invested in the conversation. All Summers smelled was Jean and he muddled toward her with the suaveness of a high school freshman asking a senior out to a dance.
I could care less about him, but the dagger in my heart twisted when I looked at Jean and realized she wasn’t talking about these things to me. Watching her whispering to Scott confirmed how royally I’d messed up. Anyone else, I would’ve used my powers to erase the memory of twenty minutes ago, but this was Jean.
I couldn’t do that to Jean, even if it meant watching her amble into Scott’s embrace.
Accepting his puzzlement, she switched tactics to enlighten him. “Do you think close friends should fall in love?”
“Well, I’d like to think that the person you fall in love with is also your friend.”
What a brilliant oration. I’d have to remember that one the next time I talked to kindergarteners who took the short bus to school.
“What about the drama though? What happens if you break up? Can you still be friends? What about the other friends? What if they don’t approve?”
“There’s always risk, Jean. Relationships are like...”
Oh no, here we go.
“... like Danger Room exercises. Each time you go through one, different outcomes will result, sometimes good, sometimes bad. Making it through the simulation isn’t the biggest challenge, it’s gathering the courage to face it in the first place that defines who we are. I guess I’m saying that you can’t control how any relationship will work out, but what you can control is whether or not you choose to pursue it.”
Laughter pinballed around in my chest only to be halted by the strangely enthralled expression on Jean’s face. “You’re right, Scott.”
The hell he was!
“Glad I could be of service.”
Without warning, he sidled closer to her and wrapped an arm around her waist. She responded by laying her head on his shoulder. They stayed still for en eternity, their eyes cast into the starry sky, Jean so very far away but Scott so very nearby.
I clenched my fist until my nails drew blood. Anger at myself, anger at Scott, anger at Jean festered like a disease. I went too far, and by losing my firm grip on my emotions, I’d set up the love of my life to fall into his clutches. I blamed myself for my stupidity and Scott for his nerdish, unwieldy perseverance.
I tried to blame Jean but couldn’t.
My teeth ground together so hard I thought they’d turn to powder. Every second they remained together tore at my essence. A temptation like none other to use my telepathy loomed in the foreground, tempting in its ease and alacrity. With nothing but a thought, they’d be no more and Jean would come back to me like nothing ever happened. I’d be given a second chance. This night would wash away like a bad dream and I’d wake up tomorrow back to where I started this morning.
But where would I stop? If I could violate Jean’s mind, what prevented me from going further, from altering the X-Men to anything I saw fit? What prevented me from creating a perfect Jean? What prevented me from abusing my powers and turning into one of those power hungry mutants I swore I wouldn’t be?
Jean finally removed her head from Scott’s shoulder. “Thanks,” she smiled, taking off his jacket as she stood, “I needed that.”
He stood with her and pulled her into a soft hug which was more than friendly. Following up the move, he dipped down that slight bit and kissed her on the lips. A few of my arteries threatened to explode, and never in my life had I been closer to mind wiping a person against their will.
Her eyes bulged, surprised. Immediately on contact, she pushed him away. “What are you doing?” she demanded.
Eh?
“I thought we were... weren’t you talking about me?”
Yes Jean, weren’t you talking about him?
Surprise disintegrated into mortification. Her face went as red as her hair as she cupped her mouth with her hands. “Oh my God, I’m so sorry, Scott. I wasn’t thinking when I was talking to you and I just oh no oh no oh my God I’m sorry.”
To his credit, he recovered nicely and even had the aplomb to give a hearty, though quite embarrassed, chuckle. “Kind of jumped the gun, didn’t I?”
“No, it’s my fault! I was so out of it I didn’t realize-”
“Nothing to apologize for, Jean. I assumed too much, and well, you know what they say. ‘Assuming makes an ass out of you and me.’”
Bad joke, horribly timed, but it gave him the uneasy retreat he wanted. Both of them laughed a little before he zoomed back into the mansion without his jacket or Jean. And Jean? She just stayed there, Scott’s jacket on the ground, her face still pulsating heat against the cold and awkwardness.
The thought hit me with a train’s force: she didn’t mean Scott.
“You were talking about me.”
Second time tonight she got frightened by someone infatuated with her. At the sound of my voice, she whipped her head around, eventually settling on my hiding place after a full second. No use in hiding anymore, so I rose up, back straight and eyes locked onto hers.
Unbound bitterness and rage radiated off of her as she frowned at me and strode toward the mansion.
“Jean!” I shouted, hopping over the foliage, “Wait!” She kept walking, the distance between us lengthening. “I’m sorry about tonight!” Faster she went, bypassing the mansion altogether and heading for the side gate. “I need to know!”
The last one stopped her and I caught up. She spun around, pinning me with her clear green eyes and numbing my body with the hurt on her face.
“What do you need to know, Emma?”
She spoke carefully, each syllable measured and evaluated. This was my Jean, the spitfire with a heart of gold and a mind sharper than a sword. This was the woman who intrigued me with her dangerous wholesomeness, the one who lured me into the X-Men with her promises fulfilled.
I fired the question point blank. “Do you love me?” Interrupting her before she spoke, I continued, “I know I love you. Since that day you walked into my life, I have loved you. Every moment with you made me happy. Every night I went to bed, I smiled because you were close by. There’s a million reasons why I love you, but there’s only one that counts in my book: I just do. Making you feel me up wasn’t the best way to show it, but at least that little act gave me the kick I needed to tell you. I, Emma Grace Frost, love you, Jean Grey, and I need to know if you feel the same.”
“I do.”
Then she turned and ran.
*****************
Two years later at the Four Seasons Restaurant in Manhattan...
She brought the champagne up to her mouth mid-giggle. “I was such a fool,” she grinned before taking a generous drink.
Couldn’t agree any more. “Chasing you down Greymalkin Lane wasn’t fun... especially when it started raining.”
Not even the playful--though nonetheless still sharp--kick under the table dulled my mood. I sometimes wonder what would’ve happened if I didn’t run after Jean and demanded she talk to me, rejection be damned. My staunchness paid off in the end, but in my mind, I pointed to many instances where I could’ve given up on her, on us.
I remembered thinking how my deep seated crush on my roommate wasn’t worth trudging through the freezing rain while she hurled things at me with her telekinesis. I remembered thinking about the future, asking the question about how everyone else would react and then answering them in very negative ways. I remembered thinking that salvaging our friendship was better than following this destructive path, that while Jean might’ve felt something for me, she didn’t want to accept it and I had no right to force it upon her.
I remembered all of that and my consequent response: fuck it. Nothing risked, nothing gained--that’s why Scott didn’t end up with Jean. He played it safe and never acted on his attraction to her until I’d entered the picture.
The result? “You have to try the prosciutto wrapped figs. It’s like an out of body experience.”
Absolutely no complaints.
Jean held my hand tighter. Our powers grew over the years, blossoming at rates which impressed even the Professor. The old man deemed her stable enough to remove the blocks on her telepathy and in a fugue of madness charged me as her tutor. Me, the wild one, the girlfriend, the mean X-Woman who didn’t like lots of people and let it be known--I didn’t look a gift horse in the mouth.
So tonight, I was suppose to tutoring her on the intricacies of mass mental manipulation, which amounted to making a bunch of people around us feel or perceive something in a certain way. The exercise? Make the stuffy, closed minded patrons of this fine establishment ignore us while we displayed our affections openly.
I justified it as not only a telepathic test but also a social experiment. She had the telepathy, and now, as the official instructor, I had to provide the affections.
Purely as a tool for the activity, mind you.
Instructional purpose drawn upon, I leaned over our small, two person table and exchanged shades of lipstick with her.
*Distractions can’t break your concentration,* I noted to her. *I don’t know how many times I’ve had to hold up a telepathic shield like this while Magneto threw manhole covers at me.*
My tongue lanced out and touched hers while one of my hands brush against her breast. She moaned, but like the good student I knew she was, she maintained our little ruse. In fact, she handled herself well enough to break away, pull my head close, and nip my earlobe.
I shuddered, my body pushing me to drop all pretenses of decency. *Feisty, aren’t we?*
*Only because I’m enjoying this lesson,* she grinned devilishly as she settled back into her chair.
Still standing, I licked my lips and nodded. “Maybe I should give this teaching thing a try. I kind of like it.”
*****************
Sentinels.
Orbital station.
Right, it was coming back now.
A half dozen of those machines interrupted my date and separately captured the Professor, Jean, Logan, and myself. Turned out Dr. Steven Lang, technological genius and mutant hater extraordinaire, wanted to test out his latest creation on us X-Men, kind of as a litmus test to see if his babies would stand up to extreme opposition. His base? Said orbital station. His babies? The Sentinels. Obviously, they worked, but the others, along with help from one of the Professor’s friend, Dr. Peter Corbeau, came charging to our rescue in a top secret, top notched space ship. Fight, fight, fight, run through orbital station, fight some more, and then nab bad guy.
Which brought me to my current preoccupation.
Smack! “That’s for ruining my dress!”
Pow! “That’s for kidnapping us!”
Slap! “That’s for putting us in test tubes!”
Crunch! “That’s for interrupting our date!”
“Emma-”
“Hold on.” I rammed this Dr. Steven Lang person’s face into the metal wall. “And THAT was for touching Jean!”
“Emma,” Jean said again, “He’s unconscious.”
I dropped the self-proclaimed mutant cleanser so he made a considerable banging noise. Then, I kicked him in the gut. “Barmy, no-good, audacious gnat. The next time you decide to play with your toys, make sure they can get the job done.”
For good measure, I jabbed the heel of my sharp boot into his crotch and churned a few times. The rest of the team simply ignored me, most of them used to my antics. Most of them.
“Remind me to stay outta your flamin’ way when it’s your time o’ the month.”
Logan--I didn’t like him. He cast too many sidelong glances at Jean. He smelled like cheap cigar smoke and growled more often than a rabid dog. I understood why the Professor wanted to expand the team and bring in new blood, but something about Logan set me off. On some level, I viewed him as competition, competition for my status on the X-Men, competition for my shady moral reputation, and potential competition for Jean’s love.
Don’t get me wrong, I knew Jean would never cheat on me, but at the same time, I never took her for granted. Everyday I pined for her as if I’d lose her, as if I spent my whole life reliving the chase after her on that cold, rainy night two years ago. So I ended up a bit possessive, but anyone else would be too if they had the heart of the world’s most beautiful and kindest woman.
Logan knew my possessive streak and stalked my borders like his namesake wolverine. Jean tried to play mediator between us, convinced we could coexist despite my misgivings and his minor, probing transgressions.
It didn’t work.
“One mighty nasty twitch ya got there, Frosty.”
“It’s because I have to stare at your hairy, shirtless chest.”
Then Scott chimed in. “Enough, the two of you. The orbital station is coming apart and we can’t waste another second here.”
“It’s no use,” said Corbeau, opening his mouth for the first time, “A stray shot from one of the Sentinels penetrated the cockpit’s radiation shields. Even if we do patch it up, there’s no way the weakened material will be able to stand up to the solar flares going on outside!”
The collective spirit sank. Ideas started floating around, but in the end, not even Colossus’ organic steel frame could endure the sun’s intense rays. Options running out, Scott and Storm passed the time by welding up the ship’s torn hull; the Professor, Hank, and Corbeau debated on the best course of action. Kurt, Sean, Logan, and Peter Rasputin talked amongst themselves.
I held Jean.
*Emma, you’re shaking.*
*Am not.*
*Are too and you only do that when you’re scared.*
*I’m not scared and I’m not shaking.*
A fire sparked behind her eyes, one which frightened me. She only got that steely determination whenever we were up against impossible odds. More often than not, her ideas put her in grave danger and once she got the drive in her thick skull, she’d never let it go.
“Professor,” she called out, extracting herself from my arms, “I know how we can get out of here.”
All eyes glued onto her as my heart sped up. Silently, the eggheaded trio urged her to continue.
“Only the cockpit is damaged, right? The rest of the ship should be able to survive the trip back to earth. I can use my telekinesis to hold off the radiation while Dr. Corbeau flies us.”
Even the Professor thought the plan dubious. “Jean, while I have supreme confidence in your abilities, these are powerful solar rays you’re up against. Even the most gifted telekinetic will have difficulties maintaining a shield of that magnitude for a short period of time, much less for the duration of our flight.”
“It’s our only choice, Professor. No one else can shield the ship or survive in the cockpit.” She turned to Corbeau. “How long is the trip back?”
“Thirty minutes,” he answered, beads of sweat rolling down his forehead. “That’s an awful lot of radiation to hold off...”
Idiotic coward. I stepped forward and offered my own twist on the scenario. “I’ll pilot the ship.”
“Come again, Emma?” asked the Professor.
“I can telepathically imprint how to fly the ship from Dr. Corbeau. While I don’t have telekinesis, I can ease the strain on Jean and funnel her exhaustion into me. It’s a better alternative than letting her do this alone.”
I might’ve had a possessive streak when it came to Jean, but Jean had a protective streak when it came to me. I was hers--her best friend, her lover--and she loathed for anything wicked to happen to me, something like her now passed on childhood friend, Annie Richardson.
Upon hearing my suggestion, she went on the offensive. “I can handle it, Emma.”
“You don’t know,” I countered. “You’ve never had to hold off this kind of thing in your life. Pyro’s flames are nothing compared to solar rays.”
“You could die.”
“And so could the rest of us if you fail. This isn’t about selfish pride, it’s about survival.”
Who was I kidding? It was about selfish pride. If we were going to die, I needed to die by Jean’s side. The way I figured it, if the solar radiation made it through, it’d destroy the cockpit first and we’d be gone in a burst light at the same time. I could’ve lied and said we’d make it, but my intuition told me I’d be tasting the sun soon.
My intuition was never wrong.
Took more convincing, but in the end, Jean relented. She wasn’t happy, but she let me sit by her, one hand on the controls and another enfolded in hers. As the Sentinel orbital station broke up, I aimed Corbeau’s ship straight at Jamaica Bay next to JFK airport. Meanwhile, metal rumbled and moaned, the cockpit bending, crushing, and melting thanks to the g-forces and heat.
For the first five minutes, Jean refused my help. Her nails buried themselves in my knuckles but I willed myself to shut up about it. By ten minutes, I forcibly moved into her mind and piled her pain onto myself. She rewarded me with a grateful look but I couldn’t smile back.
My nose bled. Then my ears. The control panel fizzled with a burst of electricity; smoke rose from the circuit boards. Our hands squeezed so hard together that I wasn’t sure if we’d be able to untangle ourselves.
Twenty minutes.
“Jean...”
I spared her a glance to confirm the feelings in my mind. She looked like me, only worse. Her back arched and her body hummed with power, but it wasn’t enough. I tried to ease her suffering, but even that wasn’t enough. She relaxed, and for a second, a great sadness passed into my mind.
“It’s too much,” she whispered, spent beyond imagination. “Twenty two minutes. I can’t...”
And then window shattered. I heard her seatbelt unbuckle as she threw herself against me.
“EMMA!”
Silence.
*****************
*What truly remarkable life forms.*
I couldn’t see. I was pretty sure I couldn’t hear. I was probably dead too, so why did I hear a voice?
*Both of you have earned life. Do you accept?*
Both of us? Jean? *Jean?*
*Emma? Where are you?*
*I can’t see. I can’t move either.*
The voice chuckled. *Of course you can’t: both of you are dying. I’ve watched your journey and have decided to grant you a second chance... for a price.*
*What kind of price?*
*Emma, we have to save the others!*
*You will channel my essence and do what needs to be done in your world.*
*And that would be?*
*No, Emma, stop. If you can help us save the others, we accept.*
*The Phoenix is capable of anything. As always, great power comes with great responsibility, and I believe the both of you are capable of meeting the challenges ahead.*
*Wait, but what price? Jean, I am not pleased at this mysterious arrangement. Jean? Hello? Anyone?*
*****************
One year later... the final stroke...
It came with its fair share of warnings.
Jean had been acting strange but I couldn’t find out why. Anytime I asked her about it, she clammed up, shrinking into herself for days. More and more often she resorted to direct means of dealing with our enemies. Direct meaning expedient and heavy handed, which meant my way of dealing with our enemies. Storm and the Professor thought I’d become too much of a negative influence on Jean and kindly asked that I’d take a month off.
Apparently, Jean liked the idea as much as I did and made a big fuss about it.
The Jean I knew wouldn’t have done that. The Jean I knew would’ve talked to the Professor behind closed doors. The Jean I knew would’ve deflected questions and kept her protests quiet. When she aired her grievances in front of the entire team (and called Storm a “narrow-minded harpy”), my initial reaction was pride. I thought she’d finally honed the biting edge she always had but never used. I thought she was just being put off by everyone coming down on us.
I was right and wrong.
Turned out Mastermind, one of the new recruits of the Hellfire Club, had gotten to Jean and changed her in ways not even the Phoenix did. He manipulated her, made her see and feel things that weren’t there. He seduced her with his powers and corrupted her for his own uses. Luckily, she fought back and won. I didn’t put it together until she took the bastard’s consciousness and merged it with the cosmos.
For that split second as she tapped into the Phoenix Force, I felt an unnatural, hungry darkness in her. This darkness tainted her mind and threatened to spill into me, into the part of the Phoenix which was me. She tried her best to hold herself back, but when I offered my help, she snapped.
She ripped Blackbird down the middle with her powers. Her green and gold costume turned into red and gold. She said the woman we knew was dead, replaced by the awesome force that was the Phoenix.
I reminded her who she was talking to, that as much as she claimed to be the Phoenix, I also held the same title, but the sudden blast of telepathic energy stunned me. She used the time to fling the others into the ocean below before rocketing into the atmosphere, demanding more energy to feed her insatiable hunger.
Her hunt filtered across our psychic rapport, urging me to follow her, to join her and do the same. The power combined with her alluring voice sounded so tempting, but this wasn’t her. This wasn’t Jean, the woman I loved, the woman who played the angel to my devil, the sweet woman who wanted nothing more than peace. This was a twisted Jean, and in her state of madness and her control of the Phoenix, she was liable to do things she’d regret later.
Ignoring the Professor’s command to regroup, I hurled into space after her. She had a head start on me and all I could do was follow in her wake of destruction, pieces of Shi’Ar ships brushing past me as I raced to catch up.
Brought back memories of that cold, rainy night on Greymalkin Lane. A lot of ways, this wasn’t any different: an angry Jean, a void of darkness between us, and me chasing after her. Why? Because I loved her, because I knew she’d do something stupid if I didn’t stop her. No matter what she did I’d always accept her, but she didn’t treat herself the same way. She held herself accountable for all her actions no matter what, and sometimes, that wealth of honor came back to bite her in ways she couldn’t imagine.
Didn’t take a genius to know cosmic power plus cosmic anger equaled cosmic destruction.
Cosmic destruction was about to take place as I found her about to consume a sun. That’s right, a sun, a star which supported a fistful of planets which in turn supported billions of life forms. The sun was small, but however small its was, immense power still radiated off of it. I was tempted to taste just a little bit of it, just to see how it would make me feel.
Jean sensed my curiosity and waited for me. In place of her beautiful green eyes were spotless orbs of pure white. In place of her kind expression was one filled with primordial need and a means to satisfy it. She just floated and waited, waited till I got close enough to touch her.
The Phoenix in her manifested, enfolding my vision and bearing down on me.
“My other half,” she snickered. A tendril of fire extended from her hand and gently wrapped around my waist. “You felt my pull, didn’t you? You know what I want and you want a part of it too.”
This wasn’t Jean. This wasn’t my Jean. I tore the fiery appendage into nothing and let my command of the Phoenix loose, the sight matching her impressive countenance. “Get away from there, Jean. For your own sanity, you have to stop.”
“Don’t call me Jean!” She burst through my defenses and grabbed my neck in one hand. “I am the Phoenix, not that fragile mortal. I am life itself!”
I broke her grasp and pushed her away from the sun with a telekinetic strike. “You’re Jean, nothing more, nothing less.”
“Fool! You’re no more Emma Frost than I am Jean Grey. We are one in the same, you and I. We are the Phoenix separated and molded into these pitiful shapes! We are one given two bodies!”
“Is that your way of saying you love me too?”
“QUIET!” she shrieked, throwing herself at me. I dodged out of the way, but I realized too late that by dodging, I gave her a clear shot at diving into the sun’s corona. The two of us streaked into the ball of molten lava, shielded by the Phoenix’s awesome power. Already I felt her growing stronger as she sucked the energies around her like a vampire. Already I felt the temptation to imbibe.
I needed power to match her, didn’t I? I needed to be on a the same level as her or else there’d be no hope. What was a solar system or two if their sacrifices saved the entire universe? There were times when the greater good took precedence over the good of a few and this was one of those times.
With that thought in my head, I felt her body press against mine. “You know the feeling. You remember it. We are the Phoenix. Creation, as well as destruction, is our purpose. Why do you hold onto to your earthly ties so hard? Let them go and we can be together once again.”
She slipped her arm around my back and pulled me close. “The Phoenix will be whole,” she whispered into my ear.
I melted into her, the seductive lure of completion and oblivion clouding my judgment. Our beings fused, her superior to my inferior. She took back what was hers to better protect herself and it felt so right. We’d be whole again, the Phoenix, the force which drove creation. I’d leave behind my troublesome world which was more of a bother than it was worth. I’d leave it to its doom and be safe and warm here.
This power... this hunger... this was me. This ability to take what I wanted was what I lacked on earth. This was why I hated the Professor’s tight rein on the X-Men. This was why I always thought The Cause never suited me.
I craved control. I craved power. I craved possession, possession of my friends, possession of my enemies, possession of the world, possession of Jean.
Jean.
My eyes opened and beneath Mastermind’s layers of damnable handiwork, I saw her looking back at me. I stayed in the X-Men for Jean. I flew light-years to help her. I craved power and control, but above all else, I craved her the most. She was why I forsook everything in my life, and whereas someone else might’ve been bitter at opportunities missed, I considered our union an unbeatable deal.
Love did strange things to people. Wonder what would’ve happened if it hadn’t come into my life. Honestly, I probably would’ve joined the Hellfire Club and tried to take over the world, but that really wasn’t the point right now.
The point was Jean needed me.
My hands reached up and found her temples. I needed an area to focus my telepathy; I needed to undo the damage Mastermind did. Expelling myself, I left go of my physical form and entered the minefield that was Jean’s powerful consciousness. Every step of the way something in her fought me, at first outraged that I’d violate her like this, then scared at what I tried to uncover.
I saw her moments of weakness in Mastermind’s well-plotted dreams. I saw her questioning her existence, wondering if the modern day was real or fiction. I saw her slowly cornered in her mind as she grew fonder and fonder of her seducer, Mastermind, or as he called himself here, Jason Wyngarde. I saw her succumb in her dreams, helped along by his tricks. I saw her blur fantasy and reality until she couldn’t tell the difference anymore.
In the end, I saw her beat him, but unfortunately, the damage had already been done. Mastermind awakened the Phoenix’s consciousness, and infuriated by the subterfuge, it demanded vengeance. The Phoenix overpowered Jean, and now, my love was a prisoner in her own mind.
With my half of Phoenix’s help, freeing her was elementary.
Her green eyes returned. Her face softened. We pulled ourselves out of each other, out of the blinding sun, visions of enormous birds rising from the fires of birth. She held me tighter, hoping and praying that I was real. Her red and gold costume remained, but I didn’t complain.
“You look good,” I smiled, tilting her chin up. “Now we don’t look like we shop at the same place for our uniforms.”
She broke out in the heartiest laugh I’d ever heard from her. As recklessly and joyously as ever, she kissed me like my Jean kissed me, and at that moment, I knew everything in this particular universe was right. I pitied other versions of myself who didn’t have this wonderful feeling to hold onto, those who didn’t know how liberating it was to exist for another.
I pitied them and rejoiced for myself. Out in the middle of another galaxy, surrounded by nothing but each other, and just pulled from clutches of a terrible tragedy, Jean and I shared a moment of peace together. Both of us knew that in a short while, we’d have to make our way back home and resume the life of an X-Man. There were villains to fight, mutants to protect, and the Hellfire Club to take apart one member at a time.
The Hellfire Club...
*****************
“Awe-inspiring, isn’t it?”
The howl of thinned, gnashing winds muted his response. From reading his lips, I gathered it went along the lines of “Gaaaaah! Noooo!” but I could’ve been wrong. Communication at this elevation came at a premium.
My telekinetic shield picked me up and floated me within inches of his upside-down, unsuspended-but-not-falling self. Sebastian Shaw--millionaire, mutant, and Black King--ceased his desperate rumblings as I dispassionately appraised him.
“Do you want to know where you are?”
He twitched and wriggled, even took a swipe at me. Laughable. “What do you want, X-Man?”
“Answering a question with a question.” I shook my head and pinched in his cheek. “That’s so discourteous, Sebastian. Answer my first, please? I did ask before you.”
Another swipe. “Unhand me!”
“My, what a wonderful idea.”
I telekinetically stretched his arms out. At first he seemed puzzled, then, as I exerted more pull to either side of his appendages, he got the idea. “Stop,” he commanded, “I said... I said...”
“You said, ‘Unhand me.’ I’m just following your request.”
With an audible pop, his right arm popped out of its shoulder joint. He screamed.
“Careful what you wish for, Sebastian. You might get what you ask for.”
Pop went his left arm. His screams doubled their intensity.
“And I’m not finished either. Next’ll be your elbows, then your wrist, then every single little joint on your fingers. Afterwards, I’ll just rip your arms clean off. Won’t that be fun?”
“Stop! I beg you! Please!”
“Then answer my question. Do you want to know where you are?”
“Yes,” he muttered, pride hurting but body urging him to cooperate in spite of it.
“Well, too bad.”
He didn’t even get a chance to look confused before I released my telekinetic hold on him. Down to the great below he fell, past the clouds, snow, and jagged mountain sides. At least the air got more breathable the further down to the ground he got.
Funny how Mount Everest worked like that.
“Say hi to the rest of the Inner Circle for me.”
Time to go home: Emma was waiting.
*****************
- The next tale awaits...
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