Jean watched the rows of headstones in Woodlawn Cemetery go by through the thick glass of the Metro North train to Bayville. As promised, she was on her way to the Institute to meet with the Professor. She increased the volume of the music she was listening to and pressed her headphones hard against her ears. She wanted the mechanical beats and undulating chords to inundate her senses and dissolve the terrifying visions projected by her memory. She was actually relieved she was going to the mansion. She didn’t think she could handle another nightmare like the one she’d awoken from that morning.
In the dream, she’d been alone, adrift in a cold, fathomless void. Then she caught the flickering image of an unknown woman. The lady was tall and proud, like a queen. An elaborate headdress of midnight blue feathers framed her strange but beautiful face. It was her eyes that were so different; they were mesmerizing. Larger and darker than Xavier's, they contained spiraling galaxies and scintillating nebulae.
Jean watched as the spinning star clusters expanded and the regal woman faded into nothingness. Suddenly, Grey was pummeled by a debris field of thousands of frozen meteoroids. She felt shaken. Then she raised her sights beyond the shower of ice and gazed at a yellow sun as it cycled into view. Gas giants whipped by. After passing through a mesh of rocky asteroids, her heart warmed. A cherished blue globe emerged.
Swirling clouds swept across the planet, dissipating over wide stretches of deep azure seas. Billions of creatures lived below; she felt them growing, breeding, killing, and dying. The moon advanced in her direction. Soon it cast its shadow upon the familiar eastern coastline of one of the northern continents, momentarily eclipsing the rays of the sun for those on the surface.
The moon continued its orbit and swiftly curved halfway around the Earth. Jean was studying its plains and craters when she realized its rotation had stalled. She returned her attention to the larger body below and beheld a non-revolving, static world. Had time stopped? The shifting sands of the deserts, the flowing oceans, and the swaying forests were still.
An instant later, she perceived a sound unlike anything she’d ever heard. At first it seemed to be a chorus of high pitched voices singing backwards. Grey looked for the source. An immense glittering sphere shot out of the blackness. Its dimensions appeared to nearly equal the distant moon. Millions of facets cut into the enormous crystalline object refracted the sun’s brilliance. The notes the massive object produced multiplied and varied, merging and diverging into cascades of harmony and dissonance as the radiance within it intensified. Quickly, the disparate tones funneled into a single progression and reached a deafening volume. Light poured from the diamond sphere. Jean knew the escalating sequences were building to a great and terrible resolution.
A hideous shriek pierced her eardrums. Concentric ripples of pain rent her consciousness. An apocalyptic explosion set the planet’s atmosphere on fire. The world beneath her was engulfed in flames.
The loudspeakers announced “Wakefield!” dispelling the terrifying scenes from her dream. Stay calm, Jean told herself.
She leaned back in her seat and tried to take comfort in the regular strokes of the wheels running along the rails. The patter of thoughts streaming from the other passengers began to buzz in her mind.
She glanced at the man across the aisle. He had the latest issue of Newsweek. On the cover several crumpled F-35 fighter jets circled a levitating Magneto. Large letters superimposed on the image read, “The Mutant Question: Can We Stop Them?” The man abruptly looked up from his magazine. His eyes flashed with recognition; the article contained her picture. His mouth formed a hard, thin line as his unspoken words echoed in her head.
Unnatural… Freak…
Jean turned back to the window. Practically plastering her face to the glass, she tried her best to ignore him and everyone else. The slight chatter had grown into a barrage of itemized insecurities, injustices, and shopping agendas. Why couldn’t she block her telepathy? Was she losing control? She was about to scream. Shut up!
She heard the train’s hydraulic breaks kick in. They had arrived at Scarsdale. Half the car emptied, including the man across the aisle. The people who remained were several seats behind, thinking innocuous things. She relaxed; in eighteen minutes she’d be getting off.
Jean stepped down from the train. The Institute was only three miles away. Sensing her proximity to the Professor, she strolled briskly through the station. Near the exit she glimpsed a copy of the Bayville News someone had left on one of the benches. The front page headline was: “Anti-Mutant Crusader Edward Kelly 30 Points Ahead in Race for Mayor.”
Outside, blinking in the afternoon sunlight, she could still see the newspaper in her mind. She put on her sunglasses and searched for her ride. The other people waiting wore puffy winter jackets with hats and gloves. Crossing her bare arms, Jean wished she’d worn a sweater underneath her adamantium fiber vest. Not because she was chilled; she wasn’t, even though the temperature had dipped below forty-five degrees – quite rare for late September. She felt exposed.
A red Austin-Healey Mark IV coup convertible with dual white stripes entered the parking lot. She knew who was driving long before the car pulled up to the curb. It was Scott, and he was alone.
“I’m sure you’d prefer to have Logan pick you up, but no one knows where he is.” Scott watched her get in. “Have any ideas?”
“No.” She fastened her seatbelt and avoided looking at him.
“Don’t you have a coat? It’s cold.” He was wearing a short wool blazer.
“I’m fine. I’ve got this thing on,” she said, referring to the vest.
“I could put up the hood.”
“I’m fine.” The coup made a left turn onto Route 22.
“Did you see that article about Warren in New York Magazine?”
“I saw it,” she answered flatly. Was Scott was determined to upset her?
“They’re going out, right? Angel and that reporter, Candy whatever...” His casual delivery seemed strained.
“How would I know? I barely leave campus. All I do is go to class, study and sleep, okay?” Grey noticed ‘Kelly for Mayor’ signs in the windows of the shops in the strip malls along the road. She unbuckled her seatbelt.
“What are you doing?” asked Summers, raising his voice to compensate for the wind from the highway.
Jean released the straps binding her chest and unzipped the adamantium-laced jacket. “I’m hot.” She tossed it in the back.
“That’s smart,” Scott commented, acidly.
Jean said nothing and kept her sight fixed on the road. Their conversation continued in Summers’ mind.
Why won’t you talk to me?
“What do you want to talk about, Scott?” Jean sounded annoyed, almost exasperated.
“Nothing! Since we don’t have anything to say to each other anymore.” So get out of my head!
“Sorry…I can’t turn it off.”
“Neither can I, Jean.” His jaw tightened. I wish I could erase every moment we ever spent together.
The light at the intersection of Route 22 and Hillandale Avenue turned red. The Austin-Healey convertible came to a halt behind a cargo van. A Cadillac Escalade SUV stopped beside them. The man and woman in the front appeared to be arguing. Two children in the rear section ogled a video screen. Jean took off her sunglasses.
I never meant to hurt you. I care about you…
The glare of the sinking sun bounced off Cyclops’ ruby lenses as he turned to face her. “Not like you care about Warren. Or is it Logan you’re after these days?”
Lines of burning gold pulsed within her irises. “You don’t understand. You don’t have a clue what I’m going through!” Her long red hair lifted from her shoulders. A fiery aura surrounded her as she rose out of the car. “I can’t be with anyone!”
The children in the SUV were staring at her. The man began pounding the horn desperately. He opened his window and shouted at the sedan ahead. “We got a f**king mutant situation back here! You gotta move it!”
Scott grabbed her left foot before she sailed beyond his reach. “Don’t fly away! Talk to me!”
Jean looked down. Her vision penetrated the ruby quartz. Gazing into his glowing red eyes, she heard his thoughts.
Fight it, Jean. Fight this thing!
Fight myself? This is what I am.
I know you better than anyone ever has or ever will. This isn’t you!
Refocusing on the surface of his glasses, Jean realized the blazing figure they reflected was herself. The kids in the SUV started to cry. Waves of panic rushed at her from all directions. A tractor-trailer approaching from the south spun into a reckless u-turn and hit a car speeding away in the opposite lane.
Scott wasn’t releasing his grip. Did he want to see his hands reduced to charred stumps?
Let Me Go!
Grey telekinetically peeled his clutching fingers from her ankle.
“Listen to me!” he yelled.
The shrill whine of police sirens combined with the beating whir of incoming choppers announced the imminent arrival of the law. What was happening? Her brain was going to explode…
Stop It!
“Jea…” Scott’s mouth froze mid-syllable.
The honking ceased and the screaming patrol cars went silent. Everything had stopped. The traffic lights were dark except for a single shining green diode. Soaring into the sky, Grey surveyed the horizon. Two police helicopters half a mile away hung in mid-air, like ornaments. A flock of Canada Geese were suspended above the vastness of the Kensico Lake Preserve. The clouds resembled static brushstrokes and even the sun had become a solid, motionless ball. Now she felt cold. A chorus of strange high frequency tones sounded in the distance.
No, it can’t be…
Jean flinched; the noise was steadily getting louder.
Oh god…