The newly reborn Jean Grey gently cradled Gabriel's head in her lap. She observed how is mouth was open and semi-licking, almost kissing her shapely thighs and how his body was shivering with intense sensations. She watched his hand as it reached up towards her and brushed some of her striking read hair behind her ear. Jean raked her own fingers over Gabriel's dark tresses as he kissed her stomach.

Jean boiling inside with the mind and wants of a Phoenix, knew what the man now called Sylar wanted from her, but then, she had always known.

Jean thought back, remembering the past, her teenage years visiting her uncle, her father's brother. She remembered aunt Virginia commenting on how special Jean was, and wondering why Gabe couldn't be the same way. She remembered being embarrassed. Most of all, she remembered the reverence which Gabe looked upon her. That was back before she joined Xavier's School, before she was an X-Man. Before Scott.

She liked Scott the best when he missed a two day's worth of shaving, when he was a little bit rough and stubbly. She also liked that look on Logan. Jean never understood why.

She liked it when Scott looked at her that same way her cousin used to. Sometimes in certain lights, with a certain grip on her body, Scott reminded Jean of Gabriel, and sometimes she had to bite her tongue to keep from speaking his name.

But Scott would be gone soon, Phoenix would make certain of it, perhaps with the help of Sylar, that was what Gabriel called himself now.

Phoenix purred and parted her legs.

Sylar was gracious for the invitation as he buried his nose against the crevasses shielded by Jean's undergarments.

He had always wanted her, ever since they were both kids. He had cried when he went off to that special school. Gabriel didn't understand why she had to leave.

But she was back now, and welcoming his body into hers, warm, embracing him like a careing mother who loved her son for nothing more than what he was. More than that, Jean aknowledged how special Gabriel was. Special enough that Jean shared her life's memories with him.

Their pasts poured into each other's minds as their bodies entwined. Pheonix had plucked out every awful deed Sylar had done, the murders he had committed, the gifts he had stolen and claimed for his own, his mother's accidental death.

Pheonix showed Sylar what she wanted him to see and nothing more. Through Pheonix, Sylar knew that no other man was special enough for Jean, save for himself. He knew about her husband, about the loner called Logan, about Alkali Lake and her apparent death. About the sorrow her team felt for their loss.

Sylar subsequently held Jean's body closer, a hand gripping her hair. He would never lose her the way Scott had. He would never let her go.

They screamed and struggled together in pleasure, fingertips digging into bare flesh, tonguned dancing against each-other, pieces of themselves trapped in the dark, held hostage until the apex of enjoyment was reached, strangled, and abandoned.

Together the cousins lay, content and lazy, recouping form their playtime. Sylar's head was pillowed on Pheonix's nude stomach, and her slender fingers played with his hair.

Words of praise and specialness were whispered, challanges were hissed and agreed upon.

One little task to show Jean just how powerful Sylar truly was.

-------------------------------

"JEAAAN!" Scott Summers cried out over the shore of the rageing river, his voice echoing though the forest and dissapateing into nothing.

"Jean's not here, Scott." A low, calm voice informed him.

Scott turned and just barely caught a glimps of a young man extending his indext finger towards him. A splitting headache formed in his skull.

Nothing.