Hey! I haven't been at my best lately, and I just could make myself write. But, here I am, with a brand new chapter for y'all! Now, just a forewarning, Jean may seem OOC in this chapter. Part of this is due to the Phoenix. In my version (as I find it too complicated to try to do the whole crystal die thingie), the Phoenix is the raw power Xavier locked up when he first met her in the comics. As Jean's powers grow, and she learns to control herself, she accidentally allows the entity free. That's it. Very similar to the movie, I know. Anyway, the Phoenix would be pretty bitter towards Xavier for locking her away so long. The other part is due to Jean growing and changing as a person. She's begun to realize no one's perfect, not even her precious surrogate father. And I think that fear manifests itself as anger and depressions, because she isn't used to being afraid. However, if you see any problems with this, feel free to point it all out to me and help me explain things better/help me fix it.

Anyway, I apologize for the long wait. It was not so nice of me. I was swamped, and once I wasn't, I couldn't bring myself to write. Didn't feel like it. This came out differently than I thought it would, but... Anyway, this story shouldn't be too long. There is no set amount of chapters. I think that next chapter is going to focus on everyone else again, just because I really like the perspective.

How did I come to this?

How did I slip and fall?

How did I through half a lifetime away,

Without any thought at all?

- "I Know the Truth" (Aida, performed by Sherie Rene Scott)

Chapter Four : Phoenix

I don't think I ever thought about that stupid night with the beer for a few more years. I found myself happier with life. I had wonderful friends and a perfectly normal (if not slightly on the dumb side) boyfriend. I was the star soccer player, the most athletic, the girl with the best grades and even better advice for those that needed it.

Even after mutants were revealed, I didn't turn back to the alcohol. I still had my friends from the Institute, and the occasional old friend that hadn't completely turned her back on me. Granted, life was a little harder for me, but I was perfect Jean. I could handle it easily. If anything, it proved my endurance. I was one of the very first mutants to graduate high school out in the open. How many people could claim that they managed to do that with straight A's, even after the accusations of cheating?

No, no, it was after Apocalypse that I found myself yearning for that sweet relief. You must understand- it hurts like a bitch to feel like the whole world is turning its back on you, even someone you thought you could trust. I still remember the burning feeling of his sharp eyes on me as he spoke of the closest friend turned evil. When he, my surrogate father, the man that practically raised me, could barely stand to touch me, I knew something was wrong.

You cannot possibly know that feeling unless you have once felt it. You cannot possibly understand that low feeling of losing the trust of someone close to you unless it has happened. You can't even imagine the awful feelings of betrayal and loneliness when the first person to be kind to you since your best friend's death, since the discovery of your powers, turns his back on you.

With his eyes meeting mine, so dark and serious and closed, as he spoke of such a terrible thing, I knew sorrow.

I can still remember the day I met him, the day I stopped crying and screaming. Those few days were a flash- laughter, Annie Richardson's broken little body on the pavement and the screech of tires. Screams, raw and painful, and tears, and someone trying to pull me away as I held her broken little head. Somehow, hands unable to reach me, somehow alone and shrieking and unable to move on. And then he came, and I was safe.

But that betrayal stung. And the soft hug offered met with a strained, fearful touch. I still can't stand the very thought of it.

That night, while everyone was celebrating, sulking, or helping the former Acolytes to move in (which, in itself, is too long a story to recall here), I found a six pack of Logan's beer. At first, I just went to hide it so Bobby or Roberto couldn't get into it. But, as I was walking, I remembered the awful feeling of the professor's eyes locking onto me as he delivered such a cruel decree, the strained, fearful feeling of his hands on my back, and I knew there was no way in hell I could make it through the night without breaking down.

Instead of hiding it, I took it to my room. Sitting on my bed, wallowing in self-pity, I downed the first in about an hour (in my defense, I could hardly stand the bitter taste). They went down quickly after that, leaving me in a drunken stupor after my third bottle.

"Sweet Jesus, Jean," I remember a feminine voice waking me from my delighted sleep. The sweet Southern lilt was comforting, and I let out a soft laugh at the thought of comfort. Comfort the knowledge that the man that once thought of you as a daughter would never turn his back on you, not the sarcastic voice of some girl from the South. Comfort was safety and happiness and love, all the things I couldn't feel anymore. "You could have just celebrated like everyone else downstairs. Who woulda thought you'd be the one doin' this?"

She had lifted me with a soft grunt, and dropped me in a graceless tangle on my bed. A small giggle that felt morel like a sob tumbled out of my chest. I remember an exasperated sigh.

"What're you so sad about, hmm? You never did a single thing wrong. All you ever do is help." She straightened me out roughly. "Sweet, innocent Jean never hurt anything or anyone? I know."

I gurgled out some sort of reply, to which the voice just chuckled.

"Whatever you say, darlin'. Go to sleep. Lord knows I ain't holding your hair back if you need to puke tonight."

A few seconds later, I heard the door click shut and some muffled conversation outside my door. Whoever she was, she must have kept me from trouble, because I was never reprimanded.

Over the next few weeks, things began to get crazy. I felt trapped, stressed, pulled out across the world. And, for some reason, I was the only one. For everyone else, it was a welcome break. Rogue sulked around the mansion, Kitty and Kurt cheered her up or played annoying pranks in the lack of practice. Scott was attentive to me, as a good boyfriend, sweet and gentle.

But Professor Xavier kept a close, hard eye on me at all times. I didn't understand- granted, I was having some difficulties with my powers at the time- and I found myself wallowing in self-pity rather than talking to him.

Which is how, over the next few weeks, I developed a growing appreciation for Guinness. Of course, Logan never really questioned where the beer went. We all assumed Rogue drank, and he trusted her with the drink. Besides, he could afford more. I know others- the newly returned Tabitha, Bobby, Ray, Gambit (damn, I still call him that!)- were obvious choices.

Even then, I was never out of control. Not truly. I was smart, and I sure as hell wasn't addicted. I know, of course, when I changed, but not when my life changed. It's impossible to describe the way I felt, the way I changed. I remember one day when the New Recruits had just come in from a Danger Room session.

"Ugh, Bobby, if you freeze my water one more time, I swear to God that I will totally phase you through a door and leave you there!' Kitty cried out in frustration, thrusting the frozen glass at him. He just laughed. Kitty never carried through on her threats. I glanced up from my studying at the kitchen counter, groaning inwardly as mutants piled into the room. It looked like Kitty and Kurt had been forced into helping Logan train the New Recruits. "Or, I'll, like, make you the official tester for my muffins!" She cried triumphantly. He paled immediately.

"Got it, no more freezing!" He laughed nervously, scooting closer to his girlfriend.

"Bobby, grow a pair!" Jubilee scoffed at him, wiping her brow. She looked over at her peppy friend. "Kitty's muffins are not gonna kill you."

"Then you eat 'em!" He raised an eyebrow.

"What?" She stared at him. "I'm not suicidal!"

I shot them a glare (granted, it was not exactly threatening) from my books. I was trying to read for my biology class at the university. Naturally, they all ignored me.

"Shut up, you two!" Kitty scolded them angrily. "It was, like, a joke! They are not that bad!"

"You don't ever eat them!" Bobby accused.

"Well, duh! I'm, like, totally biased towards myself, idiot!" She frowned.

I cleared my throat.

"You guys, I'm trying to study. Please, don't shout." I grimaced. My head was throbbing, I realized as I rubbed my temple. They paid me no heed once more.

"Hey!" Jamie cried as he was jostled into the counter. With a faint popping sound, a dozen more appeared and a groan filled the room.

"Kid, it was crowded enough in here!" Ray glared at him. He stuck his tongue at the older boy.

"Jamie, suck 'em up." Kurt shooed the many clones towards him. "It is too crowded."

"Please, shut up!" I tried again.

"Hey, stop pushing!"

"If you weren't in the way, I would have to push!"

"Ugh!"

I pulled my hand from the book, and touched my pounding temple. My vision was blurring, and I drew in a sharp breath. I felt like fire was jumping down my bones, following the delicate white lines invisibly.

"Pass me the milk, would ya?"

"Nope!"

"Hey!"

CRASH!

All the light bulbs in the room shattered in unison. Immediately, my headache vanished and my vision returned to normal as everyone shut up. The glass from the lights was suspended above us, caught by my telekinesis I suppose.

"O-Oh my God, Jean." Kitty blinked at me. "Why did you do that?"

"I didn't!" I shot back. "Well… I mean, I didn't do it on purpose."

"Okay, kiddies, out of the kitchen. Shoo, now!" Kurt shooed the New Recruits into the living room. He and Kitty had been roped into helping Logan train them, much to their chagrin. He turned around to face me. "So, what happened?"

I shrugged helplessly. It was kind of blurry at that point. I remembered the searing headache, the blurred vision, a feeling of fire spreading through my bones. I remembered confusion and loud noises. And then I remember the feeling of calm once it had gone my way. That wasn't like me.

"I think I'm under a lot of stress," I said softly, choosing my words carefully, "and I lost control for a second. I'm fine now."

And I thought I was. Kitty didn't look very convinced, but Kurt nodded.

"Maybe I should go get the professor, and see if he can help you?" He offered.

I was about to agree, but then I remembered his burning eyes. I remembered his strained, nervous touch. I remembered his avoidance of me ever since we had stopped Apocalypse. I remembered how he watched me if he was in the same room as me, careful eyes. And a voice that was not my own answered.

"No." It spat irritably. Kurt looked surprised. "I'm fine, and I don't need his help!"

"Um… I'm gonna go get him." Kurt vanished in a puff of sulfur.

"Jean, I think you're getting sick or something." Kitty offered me a weak smile. "Maybe he can help."

Help? He wanted nothing to do with me, I though bitterly. He didn't consider me a daughter any longer. He thought I would become an enemy, become an evil force to be destroyed. And, instead of trying to help me or stop me, he was distancing himself so that he could do what he needed to when he had to. And, believing it would never happen, I was furious.

"Like he'd want to!" The voice hissed. I found myself agreeing with it. "He wants nothing to do with me anymore, Kitty. I don't know what I did that was so wrong, but he won't come near me. And if he has to be close to me, he just watches me like I'm a criminal."

She blinked at me. This foreign self, who spoke bitterly and wallowed in self pity, was nothing like my usual self. I was surprised. Why would I say that to her? I didn't truly believe it- I was just a little upset, but I knew he wasn't like that.

"I'm sorry, Kitty. You know I don't mean that. I'm just stressed." I smiled weakly. I was myself again. "I didn't mean to worry you." She visibly relaxed, and gave an easy smile.

"Jean, are you quite alright?" A smooth voice questioned. It was him, of course, that damn man that thought I was such a threat! I blinked, surprised at the thought. I wasn't like that! Still, as I turned to look at him, I didn't feel the usual warm care I felt for him. I instead felt angry and bitter, the very thought of this man that considered him so damn good and wonderful. I cocked my head briefly.

It was like he was perched on some pedestal, some high place I could never hope to reach, where he dolled out his advice and judgments without care. I wondered if he would like the man I saw now. I found I didn't really care what he thought, so proud and judging and high and mighty!

"I'm fine. It was just an accident." I smiled at him, suddenly very aware that I was equal to him and no one ever knew it. He cocked his head, and glanced at the glass still suspended above us. I had forgotten about it. I dumped it all in the trashcan with a flick of my wrist, and stared at him.

"You really must control yourself, Jean." He rebutted softly. I felt him gently probing my mind, and I was suddenly very angry. With a scowl, I shoved him out. He looked surprised, and I smiled. How's that pedestal now, Charles? I nearly voiced the thought, but stopped myself. That was disrespectful, rude. I wasn't like that.

"I usually do. I'll do better." I said, as if I hadn't just pushed the world's most telepath out of my mind.

"I know." He said carefully. "But I would like it if we had daily sessions, to work on your powers and make sure you aren't going to have another power surge."

And, somehow, I was sure that he wanted to lock a part of me in the back of my mind, where I couldn't get to it. And I didn't want that. I wanted the power that he would take from me. I wanted to be in control, I wanted to be strong and powerful. I wanted to be perfect Jean, with powers no one could argue with. I wanted to be the girl I was once, so perfect and in control and reliable. Instead, I was relying on alcohol to get me through the hard times. I relied on a bottle, a little drink, to make it through.

Pathetic!

"Jean, have you been listening?" Xavier met my eyes. I said nothing, eyes defiant in a way I never have been in my life. I wasn't myself. I was a rebellious being I had never known, and it scared me. I looked at him again, eyes softened and scared. He had control again.

He, high above me, impossible to reach. He, the man that thought he was so much better than me and better than everyone else. I would show him. I could destroy him, destroy them, with a flick of my wrist. Then, would they be laughing? I doubted it.

Wait, no, those weren't my thoughts. But I can't explain that right now.

As his eyes met mine one last time, I heard one word echo in my mind.

Phoenix.

"She's waking up, Scott. Leave her be for a while." I hear Hank murmur distantly.

"No, I'll sit with her." Scott's voice gently caresses my ears. I smile, glad to wake up to such a loving person by my side. I am rarely alone these days, but I don't mind like I thought I might. Company is nice most of the time, because it keeps my mind off of self pity.

"You're awake?"

"Mm-hmm." I nod, ignoring the painful pull on my muscles. I am always stiff when I wake up, most likely from the weird position I sleep in. But I don't like lying down flat. It bothers me for some reason.

"Good." And then there is silence, and I am floating in limbo. My grip on Scott's hand keeps me from toppling over the edge. If this is insanity, I was wrong all along.

And I keep remembering that day, when all I could hear was the echo in my mind.

Phoenix.