The Mystery of Gwen

Posted on Fri Jun 5th, 2026 @ 7:37pm by Jean Grey-Summers & Gwendoline “Gwen” Osborn

3,988 words; about a 20 minute read

Mission: Episode 8: Shadows Over Avalon
Location: X-Mansion
Timeline: March 18, 1992

Jessica’s battered 1968 Ford Torino rattled and lurched as she guided it onto the long gravel driveway leading to Xavier’s Institute. The worn out car had little left in the way of shock absorption and had complained the entire trip from New York City to the quieter countryside upstate. Still, the journey had offered sweeping views and a rare sense of calm, and now the sprawling grounds surrounding the grand mansion made for one hell of a first impression.

“They’re good people out here, Spitfire,” Jessica said to Gwen before taking a long sip from her milkshake. The greasy burgers they’d stopped for earlier paired perfectly with the sweet treat. “I met Glasses in the city, but Red? She’s the kindest woman I’ve ever known. She’ll take good care of you.”

The rusty Torino squealed in protest as it rolled to a stop in front of the mansion. For a moment, the two of them simply sat there, staring up at the towering double doors that welcomed them.

“Any last requests before we head inside?” Jessica asked while pulling the keys from the ignition.

Gwen twirled a lock of her flaming red hair around her finger, studying the mansion intently while she considered the question. "No, Miss Jessica. You've already done so much for me." Gwen took a deep breath, but didn't reach for the door handle.

"Maybe one?"

“Say the word,” Jessica said with a smile. “Unless it’s something illegal, then… well… we’d have to talk.”

"Don't forget about me? I'm afraid I won't be real if people forget."

“How could I forget a spitfire like you?” Jessica chuckled, the last 48 hours with Gwen had been rather chaotic. “It’s not every day a kid ends up on my doorstep who’s hiding from her evil grandfather.”

Jessica paused for a moment and noticed the sincerity in the teenager’s eyes. She was always a sucker for a sob story.

“Tell you what,” Jessica said while she began shimming out of her leather jacket. “It gets really cold out here at night, how about you keep this jacket until the weather warms up? I’ll see you again when you’re ready to return it, okay?”

Gwen's eyes lit up when she saw the jacket. "Really?"

“Sure thing, Spitfire,” Jessica said with a slightly lopsided grin. “And if you find half a pack of cigarettes in the pocket, no you didn’t.”

She put it on; it was a little too big for her, but that was okay. Jessica was the realest person Gwen knew, so wearing her jacket would certainly keep her from disappearing again. "Okay. Okay. I think I'm ready now."

Gwen opened the car door and stood up. She was okay. She was ready. She put her hands in the pockets of her borrowed coat so the X-Men wouldn't see them shaking.

As the pair approached the front door, it swung open before either of them had the chance to knock.

“Hello!” The young, blonde woman on the other side looked briefly startled by how close they already were. “Sorry no one was outside waiting to greet you. Things have been a little chaotic around here this morning.”

She stepped back and pulled the door wider, finally coming fully into view. Tall and slender, she carried herself with an effortless elegance that made every movement seem polished and deliberate.

“No worries, Duchess,” Jessica replied as she strode into the foyer with the easy confidence of someone who didn’t fear much of anything. “I talked to Red. She knows we’re coming. Where is she?”

“She’s stuck in a board meeting with Moira. I guess it’s running long, so she asked me to meet you instead.” The blonde gestured lightly toward her temple as she spoke, the subtle motion hinting at a telepathic exchange.

“Hi.” Her attention shifted to Gwen then, and her expression softened into a warm smile as she extended a delicate hand. “I’m Kennedy. Welcome to Xavier’s.”

"Oh, okay. Kennedy. My name is Gwen."

Gwen looked back at Jessica, her eyes almost pleading, before facing Kennedy again and offering her hand.

"It is nice to meet you, too, Kennedy. I have never been to a school before. What is it like?"

“Oh, it’s all right,” Kennedy replied. Gwen’s answer had caught her slightly off guard, though not entirely. Xavier’s had seen plenty of students that arrived without anything resembling a normal upbringing. “There are group classes, but there’s solo work too. Jean usually builds your curriculum around whatever you need the most help with. I can show you around on the way to her office.”

“Sounds like you’re in capable hands, Spitfire,” Jessica said, some of the tension finally easing from her voice. She rested a hand on Gwen’s shoulder and gave it a gentle squeeze. “Keep your nose clean, kid. Everything’ll work itself out.”

As Jessica turned and headed back toward the front entrance, Kennedy straightened slightly and slipped naturally back into the role of tour guide. “Right then, this way...”

Gwen turned and watched Jessica's back until she closed the door behind her, and a moment after, before following Kennedy.

The pair crossed beneath the mansion’s sweeping double staircase and continued down a long, wood-paneled hallway. Xavier’s Institute felt less like a school and more like a living piece of history. Sunlight spilled through towering windows, illuminating polished floors and expensive looking décor that carried the warmth of constant use rather than museum-like perfection.

They passed a large dining hall that had clearly been converted into something closer to a cafeteria, practical enough to feed dozens of students at once. Nearby sat a sprawling living room with an oversized television and velvet couches that looked impossibly comfortable despite appearing at least twenty years out of date. Further along was a massive kitchen that large enough to support the entire school, and beyond that a gaming room where two teenage boys were butchering a game of pool with impressive confidence.

Their laughter died the moment they noticed Gwen.

Both boys immediately stared at the unfamiliar face walking past, their curiosity practically vibrating in the air. Kennedy didn’t miss the way one leaned toward the other the second they passed.

The gossip mill would be in full swing within minutes.

They turned another corner and approached a large set of double doors standing partially ajar at the end of the hall. The sound of a woman speaking on the phone drifted out into the corridor before they even reached the office.

“Of course... no, I can’t do the tenth. Hold on, let me check...”

Kennedy gently pushed one of the doors open and led Gwen inside but she remained outside, her task completed for the time being.

Jean sat behind a broad mahogany desk near the back of the office, her attention entirely consumed by the call. A phone was pressed between her shoulder and ear while she flipped through a crowded calendar. Beside her, a notepad and pen floated effortlessly through the air under the guidance of her telekinesis, scribbling frantic notes as quickly as the conversation moved.

“The seventeenth works fine.”

She was dressed in a smartly tailored charcoal suit that contrasted against her fair complexion, but the true focal point was her hair. Thick, vibrant, and impossibly red, its scarlet color was deeper and richer than copper and it framed her pretty features like a mantle of fire.

Without looking up, Jean motioned absently for Gwen to come inside, her concentration still fixed on the call.

“Can you repeat that, Moira? The connection’s cutting out.”

Jean felt it before she saw it, a sharp stab of morbid curiosity and panic as the phone belched static in her ear; she looked up to see her own face staring back down at her, eyes as wide as saucers. Gwen kept the high-backed office chair between her and Jean, and her grip tightened until her knuckles were white and trembling.

Jean looked up from her phone call and froze as her eyes landed on the teenager standing before her. Alarm flashed across her face first, sharp and immediate, before turning into something closer to dread.

“Moira… can I call you back?” Jean said distractedly, her voice hollow and distant as she continued to stare at Gwen. She didn’t wait for a response before hanging up the phone and slowly rising to her feet.

The resemblance hit her like a blow to the chest. Gwen didn’t look exactly like her, but there was enough there to make the connection undeniable. The echoes of Jean’s features reflected back at her in a younger face was unsettling.

Gwen blinked and took a deep breath. "You don't smell like my mother."

Jean’s breath caught softly as disbelief and suspicion warred behind her eyes. “Who are you?” she asked quietly, the question edged with unmistakable trepidation. “Who sent you here?”

"My name is Gwen. Gwen Osborn. My parents were Harry and Samantha, but they're dead now. Jessica Jones brought me here and she said you'd help me but she didn't tell me you were you. She just called you 'Red'. She said you were nice."

“What do you mean by you were you?” Jean asked and for the first time in her life, she took a step back from a student instead of toward them. A sharp, undeniable panic flooded her senses, tightening around her chest like a vice. Her pulse quickened as confusion gave way to something far more unsettling.

“You talk as if you know who I am,” she said, her voice suddenly strained. “But I don't know you.” The words lingered between them as Jean searched the girl's face, desperate for some explanation that would make sense of the growing dread curling in the pit of her stomach.

"You're Jean Grey."

Gwen took a deep, cleansing breath; the girl didn't seem to have any notable psychic potential of her own but she'd had serious–X-Men serious–counter-psychic training. She looked Jean in the eyes and, slowly, lowered her telepathic guard.

"I'm sorry, Miss Grey. I didn't mean to startle you, I guess I just wasn't expecting to... meet you. Ever. You looked so much like my mother, but you don't smell like her. My mom kinda remembered you, from... before. When she used to be someone else. I have so many memories, it's hard to remember who they're supposed to belong to. You are nice. They told me you were nice. They told me it wasn't your fault. I'm sorry."

Gwen closed her eyes in pain and leaned forward over the chair.

"I'm sorry. I'm confused. Can I sit down?"

Although still shaken by their introduction, Jean visibly calmed down as Gwen lowered her psychic defenses. The pressure in the room eased enough for her thoughts to settle and Jean reminded herself that Gwen was, above all else, a frightened girl in need of help despite the unsettling nature of her presence. Whatever Gwen had experienced, and however she seemed to know so much about Jean, none of it would matter if she wasn't first offered safety and sanctuary.

"Yes, please. I'm sorry." Jean took a seat after retrieving the notepad and pen she had dropped in her surprise. She gathered her scattered notes and personal calendar, neatly organizing them before setting them aside. The familiar act of tidying her workspace helped steady her nerves even further.

"Jessica told me she found you on the streets and that you're related to the founder of OSCORP," Jean said as she settled into her desk chair. "She said you needed help and a place to stay, but that's about all I know."

She folded her hands on the desk and offered Gwen a small but encouraging smile. "Why don't you start at the beginning?"

"Uhm. That is difficult, Miss Grey. My memories aren't always in the right order, especially the ones that belong to someone else. Norman Osborn is my granddad and he murdered my parents. Norman murdered the real Gwen, and now he makes copies of her because he thinks it's funny to hurt the Spider-Man. It is a little funny, but it makes Gwen sad. Norman likes making copies of people, but he needed... a better person? He bought my mom from another cloner, because Dad was listening to his ex-wife Liz more than he listened to Granddad, Mom had another name before she married Dad, but she wouldn't tell me what it was–it was the bad man's name–and then she used to be someone else before she was Mom. But when I was born, Granddad wanted to give me back to the bad man to trade for making Mom? And Mom was supposed to do what the bad man said, but she loved me too much so she fought the bad man and his cyborg-mutants. And then she took me to Limbo because the King of Limbo hates the bad man even more than Mom. And then the Devil who is the Spider-Man's friend thought I was in danger, so he beat up a bunch of Granddad's stupid cultists before they could tell me where OSCORP was, and he asked Miss Jessica to help me find my family but all my family except Granddad–and I guess Normie–is dead. So she brought me to the mutant school, because I'm a mutant, but you're like one of Mom's sisters except you're the good one and I kinda freaked out and I'm sorry."

Apparently, Gwen's minor mutations included expanded lung capacity. She smiled awkwardly at Jean and shrugged.

"Gwen is trying to help me remember my own memories, but she's dead so she gets tired easily and she's uncomfortable with goblins because Granddad murdered her, even though she wants to help me. I think I got those in the right order this time?"

Jean let out a slow, steadying breath as she listened to Gwen's lengthy, and thoroughly bewildering, explanation. It had given her very little insight into who Gwen actually was beyond the fact that the girl was deeply disconnected from her own reality. Still, helping someone who was confused was rarely about handing them answers. More often, it was about helping them create structure from their chaos.

"Well..." Jean began carefully. "That's certainly quite an explanation. At the very least, you're aware that some of your memories aren't your own and that the sequence of events don’t make sense. That's a degree of clarity many people never achieve."

She opened a drawer in her desk and pulled out a fresh notepad. Her pen sprung to life thanks to a telepathic touch and it began to take rapid notes in shorthand.

"You mentioned Spider-Man, but Spider-Man died several years ago during a combat operation. After his death, it was revealed that he was only sixteen years old. He was a boy with extraordinary abilities trying to do what he thought was right." Jean paused briefly. "He was killed by a Sentinel."

"The Spider-Man is dead?" Gwen looked stricken. "Poor Peter. Gwen loved him so much. Her heart ached for him when she died, because she couldn't tell him it wasn't his fault. He needed someone to tell him that. He always needed someone to tell him that."

Jean took a moment and decided to elaborate further for Gwen’s understanding.

"Sentinels are giant robotic hunters designed to detect, track, and neutralize mutants. His death ultimately became the centerpiece of the legal battle that helped end the Sentinel Program in the United States."
Jean leaned back slightly in her chair, considering the complicated legacy left behind by the masked teenager. "I didn't know him personally, but people who put on costumes and throw themselves into dangerous situations tend to make powerful enemies, but he died a hero."

"I didn't know him either, Mrs. Summers. I only remember him through other people's eyes. He was... good. He would be happy that he could keep saving lives even after he died."

"As for Norman Osborn and OSCORP, they've been among the most vocal advocates for combating the Legacy Virus that is currently killing mutants. While other biotech corporations have distanced themselves from the crisis, Osborn publicly funded research efforts and pushed for treatments. Every interaction I've had with him has painted him as a generous and compassionate man." She shook her head slightly. "That doesn't mean people are incapable of hiding darker aspects of themselves, but what you're describing doesn't match the public figure I know."

"I don't know what the Legacy Virus is, but if it's an epidemic that is killing people, of course Granddad would spend his money and his influence on fighting it. Granddad's crazy and evil, but he doesn't hurt people for no reason. He wants the world to be a better place after everyone who gets in his way suffers and dies. He only murdered Gwen because he wanted Peter to love him. He had Mom created and then had her killed because he wanted Dad to love him. Most philanthropists are murderers. It's just too bad most murderers aren't also philanthropists. OSCORP is my birthright; I will do even more good things with it after I take it away from Norman Osborn and leave him with nothing. I am going to make him watch me do every good thing he ever wanted to do, and do them all in the name of the son and daughter he murdered."

Gwen paused and tilted her head. "But yes, the good man you know is the same bad man who murdered Gwen and murdered my parents and made genetic duplicates of a dead girl to manipulate a lonely teenage boy into loving him. I'm glad he knows how to save lives, too."

The final portions of Gwen's story concerned Jean far more than anything involving Spider-Man or Norman Osborn. Limbo and cloning were both subjects that struck far too close to home.

"Human cloning is illegal," Jean said quietly. "Beyond the ethical concerns, it's an incredibly sophisticated and expensive process. Publicly, there have been no confirmed attempts to clone human beings."

"Privately..." Jean’s expression darkened as she continued, "I've seen cloning firsthand and have experienced the consequences of it. But the knowledge and resources required for that kind of work belonged to one man in particular."

For a brief moment, unbidden memories of Sinister surfaced in Jean’s mind. The fluorescent laboratory lights and a cold steel table followed by violations she wished she could forget. All of it made her stomach churn, but Jean forced those intrusive thoughts and emotions back down before they could reach the surface.

"I am also familiar with the dimension known as Limbo. It's a cruel place that was built on suffering and dark magic. But Limbo has been destroyed, along with the monsters that once ruled it." Jean’s brow furrowed as she studied Gwen. "What concerns me is the possibility that your knowledge of Limbo isn't the result of personal experience at all, rather it is a shared memory. Time doesn't move normally there. Weeks on Earth can become years in Limbo. If you had truly lived there for any meaningful length of time, you would have aged far more rapidly than you appear to have."

Jean considered the implications. "Unless you were born yesterday, that world should have changed you dramatically..." She huffed out a long and tired sigh as she pondered what that could mean, not just for her, but for her stepson."...I'm not an expert on Limbo, but we do have someone here who is."

Though Gwen's story was tangled and inconsistent, there had been flashes of truth hidden within it and there was enough truth in her story to worry Jean. Combined with the unsettling resemblance between Gwen and herself, there were conclusions lurking at the edges of this conversation that Jean wasn't prepared to entertain, at least not yet, because the possibilities were too significant and too personal.

If there truly was some connection involving herself, Gwen, and Alaric, it deserved careful investigation rather than reckless speculation. Right now, Gwen wasn't a mystery to solve, she was a frightened and confused teenager who needed help. Jean chose to focus on that reality instead of the growing sense of dread pressing at the corners of her thoughts.

"I think staying here at Xavier's would be good for you, Gwen." Her voice softened as she continued. "This school exists to give young people a safe place to live, learn, and better understand their abilities. I also believe I can help you sort through your memories and figure out what's real and what isn't."

Jean offered the girl a small but reassuring smile. "I'll be honest though, housing you here without the consent of your known family creates certain complications. But I also trust Jessica's judgment, she's done a great deal for me personally and I know she brought you here because she believed it was the right thing to do."

"So here's my offer. You're welcome to stay at Xavier's, provided you're willing to follow the school's rules and work with us to untangle all of this." Jean’s expression remained calm and steady as she returned to her role of being the guiding light so many people in the school required. "We don't have to figure everything out today, we can do that one piece at a time."

"I want to stay at the school. I want to help. But when Granddad and the other bad man... the man who made Mom and all her sisters... when they find out I'm alive they will come for me. Maybe... maybe you should give me back to OSCORP. Maybe Granddad will protect me from the other one."

"I would never deny a student the right to go home, no matter what that place looks like, every student and resident of the school is here on a voluntary basis." Jean made a few more notes in her notebook before she continued, "As far as your safety and well-being are concerned, I don't think there is any place that is safer for you. The individuals who live here are extortionary and they are committed to protecting this place. I too am a very capable headmistress, I would rather die then see anyone here harmed." Her response was a touch on the the macabre side but one of Jean's attributes was that she spoke with conviction and honesty, when she said she would do anything to keep Gwen safe it was the truth.

"How about we take this day by day then?" Jean suggested, "We'll get you a place to sleep, a hot shower and some dinner. You can form your own opinion about Xavier's and if it feels safe to you or not. If you decide that being with your Grandfather is the better choice, I'll take you back to the city myself. No hard feelings, no strings attached."

With a quiet nod, Gwen accepted Jean’s offer and the terms that came with it. Soon afterward, she was escorted upstairs and shown to a bedroom that would be hers for the duration of her stay. As Jean watched her go, she found herself lingering on the questions that still surrounded the young woman. She didn’t know who Gwen truly was, where she had come from, or even what she might ultimately prove to be. But those answers could wait.

Whatever truths Gwen’s past might reveal, she would not have to face them alone. For now, she had found a place among the X-Men and together, they would confront whatever lay ahead.

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