From the Ashes - Part 2

Posted on Tue Mar 26th, 2024 @ 8:57pm by Scott Summers & Jean Grey
Edited on on Wed Mar 27th, 2024 @ 5:16am

5,055 words; about a 25 minute read

Mission: Episode 4: The Savage ConneXion
Location: Mutant Research Center - Muir Island
Timeline: September 3, 1990

Jean had finally graduated from the hospital ward. With the sedatives out of her system, the removal of her feeding tube and no longer needing I.V. fluids, she didn’t require the constant medical care that the hospital ward provided. She was given clearance to stay in a standard room for the duration of her recovery. Muir had a handful of accommodations available for the scientists and mutants living there, nothing particularly luxurious but practical and comfortable. Moira had provided them with one of the small houses usually reserved for staff living on the island. The change in scenery had been a welcomed one, the windowless medical ward was filled with beeping machines and the perpetual buzz of doctors and nurses. It was a place for around the clock care and observation rather than rest and recovery. The tiny house right next to the research center was quiet and serene, with its view of a rocky cliff side and an ever present ocean breeze.

One of the biggest changes outside the hospital ward was the quality of sleep. While sleeping together in the tight hospital bed they mainly dozed. Only capable of sleeping for an hour or two before something or someone caused them to stir. Despite being so tired, Jean’s sleep during that time remained restless, she often jerked herself awake as a surge of panic or fear overcame her senses. In the best of times, Jean would quickly come to her senses and was able fall back to sleep soon after. At its worst, she would sit up or jump out of bed with a momentary urge to flee from whatever nightmare she was trapped in. Mainly she wept, the memories of her torture caused her to wail and sob herself awake as the horrible thoughts lingered in her mind. Jean always reached for Scott in those moments, when she struggled to decipher what was real. It was the touch of him that grounded her and helped her confirm that she was safe. Jean had expressed her fear of having to recover from this trauma, how frightening and daunting the task would be for her. As time went by, Scott understood why she wanted him by her side. His presence comforted her, his body next to hers or the soft words of reassurance, he was able to fend off whatever ghosts haunted her. Scott had questioned why she was willing to forgive him, doubting his worth and what he could provide to her, it was in these challenging moments that he began to better understand what he meant to her, what he could do for her. It helped remind him of who he was as a man and who he was to Jean.

Always anxious when climbing into bed, Jean tightly hugged Scott until exhaustion took over and she lost consciousness. Sleep always brought the opportunity to dream, a precarious place where telepaths walked through memories and risked falling into the dark recesses of the astral plane. These dreams were where Jean often found herself alone with the demons lurking in her mind.

She was sitting in that chair again, a familiar seat of cold metal that took its time warming against her skin. Her arms and legs bound and the collar around her neck. She had to sit in that chair in whatever position her captors decided to place her in, often a sloppy and careless positioning of her frail body with a limb bent or folded in a way that made it burn and tingle. Sitting up upright made her head ache, it always hurt when they moved her and forced her to endure these experiments. The collar’s control of her powers lessened in these trials but they had pumped enough drugs into her system to make everything hazy and askew, she just wanted to drift away again into that dark and timeless place where the pain and fear stopped.

Jean was always placed in the same room of gray concrete, a row of lights overhead, cameras in every corner, and a wall of one way glass that people watched her from. Their voices filled the room from time to time but they never spoke to her. Men dressed in black, with hoods across their faces were Jean’s companions in this room. Oversized and impressively strong, the voices coming through the speakers were for them, not for her.

“Test 43947, Subject in body, Trial 4” The voices overhead announced for the cameras and Jean knew it was about to start, the same way it always did.

Another man in black dragged a girl into the room, the same scarlet hair as Jean, the same build and the same face. An almost perfect mirror image of herself. The novelty of the doppelganger had already worn off by this time, instead Jean looked at her with the same sickening pity that she had provided to all the other girls before her.

Jean’s clone fought the rough hands that held her, this room and their touch new to her, she fought against them like she stood a chance, like if she tried hard enough, she might just live. It was heartbreaking to see the strength she once had, the foolish hope that she might be freed. Jean knew that wouldn’t be true.

The clone’s fate was already sealed, born to die.

Several hard blows to the face and body slowed the clone, her nose bloodied as she bent over and wretched from the punch to the stomach, incapacitating her enough so that she couldn’t run. This is when the real trial began.

What they did next varied from session to session. Some days it was quick and sharp pain while other days were long lasting agony. Today was broken bones, snapped and shattered by hand or by the mallet the goon in black carried. They started low, breaking toes and then legs, each time the clone screamed in misery as her body was destroyed. The once furious and spirited body that had been ready to fight for freedom had been replaced with sickeningly soft, pulpy flesh. Bruised and bleeding, the occasional white bone protruding from a mangled body.

Jean tensed and shuttered as she was forced to watch. Even when she closed her eyes or turned away she was still subjected to their screams, her own screams.

Some days the clones would beg or plead for mercy, some days they would fight until the bitter end, and some days they remained silent until the final blow was delivered. Jean hated the silent days the most, those clones had remained so brave and strong until they crumbled.

Today, the clone begged, asking over and over again for them to stop. Her eyes filled with painful and dreadful anticipation as they prepared to break the next bone in her body. It went on like this for what felt like hours as parts of the clone's body snapped and cracked from their touch. Each blow disfiguring another part of Jean’s own body.

Jean’s responses to the torture escalated as the pain continued. The trial was a macabre reenactment of her friend Annie’s death. Like a sadistic reflex, the moment triggered Jean’s telepathy and her psyche merge with that of the dying clone. Each painful blow or surge of fear raked its way through Jean and she too was dissolved into a sobbing desperate victim as she endured the clone’s demise.

The final blow for today’s session was a broken neck. The goon in black held her head in his hands before he administered a sickening twist that aubilly broke the bones and snapped the spinal cord. Jean watched herself go limp, now a wasted broken doll that was discarded onto the floor. Jean shrieked and gagged as she felt the clone die and once again, whatever her captures had hoped would happen did not happen.

Dropping her head in despair, Jean waited to be taken away. Placed in her cell before it started all over again. But today there was a long pause and the voices from behind the glass were now in the room with her.

“Sir, if I may offer a suggestion? I think it’s the level of ketamine in her system. I think it’s too much and it’s inhibiting her ability to react.”

“A possibility, but unfortunately a required obstacle, because someone had to be difficult when she first got here”

She knew that voice, she feared that voice. Jean began to tremble from his presence. A single hand was placed on her shoulder and her whole body jerked and attempted to pull away from his touch. The movement was violent enough that it caused her to fall out of the metal chair onto the cement floor.

“Tsk Tsk Ms. Grey, haven’t you learned yet that this type of behavior will get you nowhere? Haven’t you learned that these trials are a gift being given to you? You are blessed. You should feel honored to be a vessel for the Phoenix Force.”

The person who had touched her shoulder stepped in front of her, large boots filling her view rather than her own mangled corpse.

“No, you haven’t. Instead, you waste it! You squander the beautiful gift you were given! There are such wonderful and important things to be done, instead we waste our time doing this!”

The voice was angry now, disgusted with her and her poor performance.

“Clean this mess up and put her in the psychotronic chair. Repeat today’s session with her inside the clone’s body rather than watching until the end. Maybe feeling those bones break beforehand will be enough.”

The people in the room departed, leaving Jean on the floor, staring face to face with her clone's corpse again. Her green eyes now glassy and lifeless, her soul gone. Staring at her own demise, Jean began to scream and sob in fear for what awaited her.

The terror snapped Jean to consciousness. Sitting up in bed, Jean began to fight against nonexistent restraints. Her cries from the dream continued as she woke. Out of the corner of her eye, Scott moved beside her, she didn’t register who or what was beside her and survival instincts caused Jean to lash out with a blast of telekinesis. The desperate need to free herself from that sinister touch.

One moment Scott was gently shaking Jean’s shoulder in attempts to wake her. The next moment he felt himself sailing through the air into the nightstand. The lamp and water glass on the table shattered on the floor as the nightstand was knocked over. Fortunately, or unfortunately depending on one’s view, this wasn’t the first time. Jean had not slept a full night since her return.

Enough of reality returned to Jean and she recoiled, her screams turning into mournful tears as she curled in on herself and attempted to shake free from the memories the dream had provided.

“It’s alright, Jean…” he whispered as soothingly as he could with the wind knocked out of him. “It’s me. I’m here and they aren’t. Whoever it was… they’re long gone. No one will hurt you anymore.”

The private cottage was a curse in disguise. At least the regular medical attention would spare Jean the unmitigated descent into terror. Her wails were otherworldly. Scott wished there was a way he could spare her. If only he could have taken her place…

“Whenever you feel up to it, you can show me.” It wasn’t the first time the idea had occurred to Scott, but it was the first time he had voiced it. Whatever it was had to be ghastly. But if he wasn’t going to carry her, then what was he doing there? “I’ll walk any path with you that leads us back home.”

The reality of her surroundings took over, the terrors of the dream evaporating. The bed was soft and warm, the air smelt like sea breeze, and that was Scott’s voice by her side. Jean slowly unfurled and returned to a more relaxed position. She listened to his request and nodded her head in agreement while wiping her tears away, the movement made her soft red curls bounce across her shoulders.

“We’ll do it now.” Jean confirmed “Before I forget any of it.” A brave response to the terrible memories, a testament to how strong she had become since experiencing Annie’s death at eleven. She turned on the light by her bedside and surveyed the mess she had made and the mild assault on Scott.

“I’m sorry.” Jean apologized “I’ll clean it up once we’re done.” Scott returned to the bed and they sat cross legged and facing one another. She reached out and held on to his forearms before she closed her eyes and took in a couple slow, deep breaths.

A moment later Scott watched the whole nightmare in his mind’s eyes. The short yet brutal retelling of the torture session shared with him.

“Jean…” Words failed him. Scott could only shake his head while he felt the dream pass through his mind. To think that had actually happened day in and day out. He blocked out what he would have been doing at any given point. Nothing could justify leaving her in that place any longer than was necessary. “That is unbelievable. Evil. Appalling. Sinister. I don't even know the words.”

Wrapping his hand around her head, he let his fingers entwine with her locks as he pulled her in and against his shoulder. “I've got you now,” he said to the both of them. “You can let go. I'm not going anywhere.”

He felt her body soften against him as she found comfort in his words and in his presence. He had always been her pillar of strength, when the world became too much for Jean, Scott had always there to catch her. She hated these dreams and the chokehold they had on her. Jean didn’t want to cry anymore, she had spent so much time lamenting that it had started to become her new normal. Jean didn’t want to feel that way, she was alive. She wanted to return to that beautiful, happy existence she once had.

Jean remembered their first time together, after the attack in Santo Marco. They had made the choice to live, to celebrate the good in their lives, to celebrate one another after coming so close to death. With a single fluid movement she climbed into his lap. Pressing the curves of her body against him, Jean wrapped her arms around his neck and leaned into his warmth. Jean remembered how that day felt, how cherished and loved they had made each other feel. He felt her slip into his mind as the weight of her body came into contact with his, creating physical and mental intimacy. Jean closed her eyes and lost herself in him, the solid feeling of his body, the smell of his skin, that protective and steadfast presence his mind provided. He helped her forget all those wicked, terrible things that chased her. Here with him, Jean was safe and she wasn’t alone.

“I don’t know what I would do without you?” She murmured before nuzzling into him. “Wallow in my own misery until I go crazy while you self depreciate and fall into a permanent state of isolation.” Jean snorted out a little laugh that was warm against his skin. “That was a joke.”

Scott chuckled wryly. “It's funny because it's true.” There was something cleansing about the way she took him in. His scent, his touch, his company. A filth had followed him for awhile now, covering him like an oily sheen. Somehow being with her washed it away.

“It's still hard to believe that I have you back.” Not only that she had been recovered, but that she had taken him back and allowed him to call her his own again. Nightmares which had haunted him for so long were already dispelled by that one act of forgiveness. “Sometimes I want to pinch myself.”

Every inch of his body that he could hold against hers was already so. The tactile contact held back the tremors of his muscle memory from being without her for so long. There was no substitute. There never had been. Only delusion. With Jean, here and now, Scott allowed his inner tension to relax so that he could be the refuge which she needed.

“I would never leave you by choice.” Her lips pressed small, sweet kisses along the line of his squared jaw. Jean entwined her thoughts with his, whispers of love and an ache of desire that gently caressed him. It was hard not to succumb to the wants that passed through her mind. “And I will always come back to you.” Her promise softly spoken against the shell of his ear.

Scott trembled at her whisper, but not for the pain of half-forgotten heartache. Quite the opposite. The familiar touch of her mind coupling with his made his eyes misty. This was his heart's one true desire, here in the flesh, now touching him in spirit.

Normally he would still his trembling limbs but he was done hiding. Regret would mar his life for some time to come. In this moment, he let his turmoil show, for it was no longer that of shame but of acceptance. Fear. Doubt. All of it was swept away as soon as it reared its head.

“That's assuming I would ever let you go.” He held her tighter to accentuate the sentiment, but not too much. He didn’t want to hurt her. “Not to spoil the end of the story,” he said as he let her hair envelop his face as her thoughts had done to his, “but I won't.”

His lips pressed ever so gently against her temple while he drew them back toward her face. Leaning back, he looked her in the eyes, or as best he could through his glasses. “I love you, Jean.” The simple declaration was unburdened, unmitigated, and unrestrained. Scott's heart began to soar. “I'll always love you.”

Jean reveled in the joy that he emitted, a warm and radiant sensation that lightened her own heart. This was what she had so desperately missed and the desire to find it again had allowed her to survive. She leaned forward and claimed his lips, pressing a heated kiss into him that returned all his blissful adoration. Scott’s lips parted from her advances and the kiss deepened, causing Jean to make a small, murmured sound of approval. Their shared breath and racing hearts cause her skin to fluster under his tight embrace.

“I love you, Scott Summers.” Her soft lips moved against his own as the world around them faded away and he became the sole focus of her attention as she repeated his words. “I’ll always love you.”

Scott felt his eyes turn misty. The weight of her mind was a cocoon of healing rain and warming fire all rolled into one. His eyes closed, all the better to consume and be consumed in this moment. The taste of her lips quickened his breathing, making him hunger for more. His heart pounded nearly through his chest and sent its drumbeat to his ears.

So many years together all came together in a rushing recollection. Their intimacy had tapped into eternity where each moment, past and present, melded with the next into a profound and pleasurable eternal now. Scott felt the press of his mouth hasten against Jean’s, if only to keep up with his breathing.

~I don't want to hurt you~ The words entered the shared space of their psychic rapport. It was his voice but both minds as one.

~* ‘I know’ *~ Her internal words sounded disappointed, not by him, but by the reality of what she was capable of. It was painful to admit that she wasn’t ready.

She withdrew a little and returned to lavishing him with sweeter, innocent kisses. Tenderness that helped cool their blood without sacrificing the intimacy between them.

~* ‘There are several reasons why we shouldn’t, but I want to, so badly. I’ve missed every inch of you.’ *~ A shiver of delight was shared between them and it caused Jean’s breath to catch in her throat.

~* ‘I want to give you everything.’ *~ Lewd images of what Jean was capable of flashed through their shared thoughts, which created another tremor of pleasure for them to share.

“So we wait.” She vocalized the painful conclusion but refused to pull away from him.

“Yes…” he agreed. As much as he wanted to go further, even this was more than he had dared hope for again. “I want you at your best.”

His voice an edge of teasing to it, but it didn't mask the sincerity. The road to physical recovery might be a long one, but the psychological and emotional recovery could take a lifetime.

“So don't worry about me.” He held a prolonged kiss against her forehead. “You've already given me everything.” And, as an added bonus, he had managed to hug away her night terrors. That was a win in itself. He chuckled happily to himself at the realization.

“Would you sleep better if we were telepathically joined?” Scott didn't quite know what he was asking, at least on the functional side. He just knew they were capable of sharing dreams on an intentional level. They'd done it before, though Scott had no idea how or what it entailed. Matters of the mind were best reserved for Jean’s judgment.

Jean pursed her full lips as she considered his suggestion. He had proposed joined psyches for her benefit but she worried how it could affect him. Scott had limited insight into what was happening inside of her, why she had been abducted.

“I don’t know exactly why I was taken, but there is something inside of me they wanted to exploit, or take. I don’t know exactly what it is, but in dire moments, this power swells inside of me. It feels limitless but also incredibly dangerous. It hasn’t always been there and even now, I don’t feel it inside of me. But when it does show up, it consumes me.” Jean seemed frustrated as she tried to vocalize what she was feeling. Her brow furrowed slightly as she searched for better words to describe this sleeping force inside of her but wound up short.

“The Professor and I spoke about it while he was here and he agreed it’s dangerous, especially with not fully understanding what it is. He erected some barriers in my mind to help prevent me from accessing it while he does some research on what it could be.” She ran a hand down his chest, seeking out the strong lines of his form.

“On a personal level, of course I want to telepathically bond with you. Your presence has been such a comfort to me, I feel like I can get through this because of you. It’s just, I don’t know what I’m capable of.” Jean smirked before she continued. “And I know you’re going to say you don’t care and you want to help me, but I had to tell you about the potential danger, no hiding.”

Scott grinned and chuckled again. “You know me too well. The way I see it, I could either join you while we sleep or I could get thrown into a nightstand again.” His grin spread wider, showing the tip of his tongue. “It's clear choice from where I'm sitting.” The way her fingers traced his body sent another quiver through him. He wanted to return the gesture but they had already agreed not to go where that would directly lead. “Besides, two minds are better than one, right?”

“Two minds are better than one.” Jean nodded her head in agreement “And I’m sorry I manhandled you.” Her attention shifted toward the turned furniture and broken glass, phantom hands tidied the mess she had made in a manner that would make Mary Poppins jealous.

Jean’s green eyes returned to him, she never grew tired of that momentary spark that passed between them when their eyes met.

“Is there anything else I should know about before I create a bond between us?” A probing question from Jean but an honest one. Thoughts flowed freely between them in that bonded state and while they had agreed to be open and honest with one another, she worried about the guilt still lingering inside of him.

Scott shook his head. “No. At least nothing that comes to mind. I laid everything out for you, half expecting you to tell me to leave. If you find anything else, it might be news to me too.”

His mouth curved at the absurdity of the suggestion. There was not much if anything he had ever successfully kept back from her. No secret was worth even a shred of empty, vacuous space that could otherwise compare to her warm, luscious, delectable…mind. Yes, he corrected himself as his mind began to wander. He was thinking about her mind.

“I'm, uh, ready when you are,” he said with a touch of rosy cheeks. “Anything I can do to help you get more comfortable? Fluff pillows, get you a drink…”

“Shut up.” Jean teased with the lilt of laughter in her voice. It felt good to laugh. It felt good to laugh with someone. It felt good to laugh with him. She kissed him and dared to tempt them with more of what they wanted from each other. Jean’s body fidgeted and restlessly pressed against him, it could no longer sit still and idly wait for more to happen. The physical sensation of her writhing body against his own was distracting enough that he didn’t completely notice their mental connection deepening. Psychic joining reminded Jean of sharing a bed with someone. The close proximity of their body to your own made you aware of how they moved, their comfort or their discomfort was easily noticed.

Regular telepathy was like talking to someone on the phone, your surroundings and the distance could muffle the words making it harder to hear them. When joined, it was like the person was in the same room as you. Whispered words and emotional changes to the voice were so easily picked up on, communication was effortless. But the biggest difference was the emotional connection between the two people who were bonded. The only comparison Jean had for it was the intimacy of sex. With their bodies joined in the throes of climax, the shared pleasure made two people into one. Unified responses to any emotional state had the ability to mellow or accentuate any feeling.

Jean broke their kiss and took a moment to savor that familiar yet new connection to Scott. They had telepathically joined their psyche before, but whenever they maintained this state of mind for and extended period of time there was a flood of intense sensations that overwhelmed their senses, so they would break the bond and go back to a more singular state of mind.

~* ‘There you are.’ *~ Jean welcomed his presence, a lock and key reunited. ~* ‘I’ve missed you.’ *~

~I’ve missed you~ Scott echoed.

Connected as they were, he couldn't hold back his misty eyes anymore. Tears flowed freely. Not from sobbing. Just a passive release from an overload of joy. While sex would have been enjoyable, this was what he really wanted, he realized. It was like they were one soul with two bodies, each half of a whole. Existing apart from one another was only half of a life.

Jean reached out and wiped a tear from his cheek, knowing that their decision to wait went beyond her own recovery. His heart was healing and she wanted to provide him with the patience and security he needed to process his emotions. Scott could let his heavy emotions devour him, these past few days she had never experienced a more lost and broken Scott. His own mental health needed time to heal. While she was grateful they were happy tears, Jean knew they were connected to grief and a feeling of unworthiness. She wanted him to find his confidence again, loving yourself was critical for loving someone else.

Scott settled down next to her, allowing Jean to find a comfortable position to lay while he allowed himself to be her foundation so to speak. He could sleep on a bed of spikes now, much less on a soft mattress. A smile spread over his face at the dance their thoughts performed together. Jean would always choose to play the role of ‘little spoon’. She quickly returned to the sleeping position, resting her head on his bicep and molding herself to him as he draped a heavy arm over her and hugged her close to him.

~I could stay here like this with you forever~ Scott closed his eyes and could almost see her. It wasn't a solid image like a movie. It was more like a montage reel where each thought and emotion conjured a memory or imagined representation, like the game of charades in reverse.

~* ‘Me too’ *~ Jean agreed as she placed her hand over his and used her thumb to lazily stroke the back of his hand. She closed her eyes and let her body melt into his, the curves and lines of their bodies complementing each other. She participated in providing moments for the slide show in their minds, reminding him of how good he had been for her and that she needed him as much as he needed her.

Since her abduction, Jean had become afraid to sleep, she dreaded the essential act for fear of what her mind would show her. But with Scott’s body and mind intertwined with her own, she wasn’t afraid anymore. For the first time in months, Jean finally slept.

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