First & Last

This story takes place early on in Bendis's All-New X-Men. After Scott Summers's possession by the Phoenix Force, he has started a mutant revolution with a splinter faction of X-Men. In a stated attempt to dissuade him from this, Beast has gone back in time and brought back the original X-Men—himself, Marvel Girl, Cyclops, Angel, and Iceman—from their days as teenage students of Professor X. The 'O5' are now living in the Jean Grey School for Higher Learning under the care of Headmistress Kitty Pryde.

*****

Jean crept through the halls of the school, wishing she could fly so the floorboards didn't creak under her. It was the dead of night and at least some things hadn't changed—curfew was strict. No roaming the halls. Not unless you were a time-traveling teenage member of the original X-men.

God,

she was in the Jean Grey School. A

school

named after her. Because everyone loved her. Because everyone missed her. Because she was dead.

Jean found the door she wanted. She cast her mind inside, trying to find if the occupant was sleeping, but she hadn't counted on years of psi-training. The consciousness she felt detected her and slammed into wakefulness. Jean backed away, hearing her name dimly voiced inside the room. She turned to run for it, certain she could get away before the door opened, but of course, Kitty Pryde just phased right through it.

"Jean Grey?" Kitty asked. "Now what the heck are you doing out of bed?"

Jean turned to her, blurting out "How old are you when I'm me?"

"Huh?"

"I mean—in my timeline—my time period—how old are you?"

Kitty shrugged it off. "God—I'm too much of a girly girl to wanna think about that stuff. When you were—

are

—are a teenager, I must still be in grade school.

Years away

from developing my mutant power. But c'mon. You didn't come all the way down here in your PJs to talk temporal physics."

Jean felt a sudden, intense urge to cover herself with her hands. Her pajamas were actually a little more modest than her uniform—a simple billowy set of top and bottoms that covered all but her hands and feet, made her feel a little like Peter Pan would be stopping by. And wasn't that what had happened? She'd been taken to Never-Never Land, where she never had to grow up? Never

would

grow up?

"I, uh... I had a nightmare."

Jean tried very, very hard to keep her power in check now. She knew what Kitty was thinking, she just didn't want to

know

it. She didn't want to hear Shadowcat's beautiful mind filled with thoughts of what a baby she was, a scaredy-cat, a disappointment after all the legends built up around her...

Whatever Kitty thought, she kept a tight lid on it. Her face was a look of simple concern as she got the door for Jean. "Come on in. I'll fix you something."

Kitty's room was

adult

in a way Jean had a hard time contextualizing. It didn't have the hard austereness of the Professor, but it was no dorm room either. It was clean and well-designed, but with a few nerdy posters, pin-ups for rock bands, even a little dirty clothes—including one singed spare uniform. Kitty tidied up quickly before going to her mini-fridge for a jug of milk and some Hershey's syrup. "How's hot chocolate sound to you?"

"Sounds... sounds fine." Jean looked away. She couldn't have hoped for a better reaction from Kitty, more understanding or more accepting, but that just made it worse. Here she was, supposed to be some great hero, and she needed Kitty Pryde, a prepubescent girl in her own time, to hold her hand and—

God! So stupid!

"Hey." Kitty sensed Jean's recrimination as surely as if she were a psychic herself, setting down the ingredients in the room's little kitchenette to go to her. "Hey, hey, hey. This isn't the Avengers or the Fantastic Four. We're not commandoes. This is a school and a refuge. People come here to learn and to be safe. So you never ever have to feel bad about being scared. Okay?"

"I'm not—I'm not scared," Jean insisted. To prove it, she called up her power, telekinetically pulling a pot to the stovetop on the counter, filling it with milk as she tripped the flame, stirring the chocolate sauce in with no spoon...

"Wow, you're getting good." Kitty put her hand on Jean's arm, rubbing it through her pajamas. She herself wore a silky little kimono that looked so good on her that Jean wanted to cry. It was perfectly modest, but at the same time, so becoming... "But this isn't TP 101. So I'll stir the pot, you tell me what's wrong."

Jean waited as Kitty went to get a spoon, passing through her rather than asking her to move. She didn't start until Kitty was at the pot, actually stirring the dark milk, waiting for it to come to a boil. "It's Scott."

Kitty darkened. Jean had been afraid of that. "Has he done something?"

"No, no, not—well, he has, but not to me. Don't get mad at him, please."

"I'm not mad, Jean. I'm... concerned." Kitty had stopped stirring. She started again. "Go on. Please. I'm not mad."

"Okay, it's... I've read Hank. I know what's happened. He got the Phoenix Force and he hurt a lot of people and the Professor..." Jean suddenly felt very cold. She stood closer to the stove's blue flame, and to Kitty. It helped a little. So did holding herself. "Everyone's so mad at him. I can hear them. Some of them—they would kill him. They're thinking of reasons

not

to kill him."

Kitty looked at the milk, swirling even now that her spoon had stopped. "I'm sorry. I know how much he means to you—but I can't control how people think."

"He wasn't in control of his actions. The Phoenix was. It made him do those things, so why is it everyone's so..." Jean felt tears start in her eyes. It made her so frustrated. It wasn't just her anger—it was how it fed into her, into itself. She was frustrated with how frustrated she was, angry with how angry it made her. Why did she have to be so damn

young

? Why did she have to feel

useless

when she was supposed to be some great hero, someone who everyone loved enough to get along for?

Hank had said he wanted Scott to see his future, his past, but Hank also wanted him to see her. He wanted them all to see her. She'd seen it, just not in his conscious mind. Deep down. Underneath. He wanted her to make things

right.

"Even I... I've yelled at him and he hasn't even

done

anything yet!"

Kitty gave her a moment to gather herself, turning her back to pour the chocolate milk into two ceramic mugs. She added little marshmallows too. Jean smiled despite herself at how thoughtful Kitty was.

"I know it's hard to understand. In a lot of ways, it'd be easier if it were Mr. Sinister or Apocalypse—"

"Who?"

Kitty waved her hand. "Bad guys. We feel okay hating them, but there's a limit to the hate because—it's who they are. It's what they do. Bad guys." She pressed one of the mugs into Jean's hands and just holding it was so good. Jean was able to

breathe

again. "And someone like Scott—someone we love and trust—when he hurts us, it's hard to understand. Hard to accept without blaming ourselves or thinking maybe it's our fault... we've all looked up to Scott, followed him, but he's just a guy. I'm not saying that's a bad thing. We're all just... guys."

Kitty took a sip from her own mug, somewhat regretting that turn of phrase. Little Jeannie was most definitely not a guy.

"But because he's the leader, we hold him to this standard. And a lot of the time, he's actually so good at what he does that we... believe it's not a standard. It's just who he is. Then we turn around and he's just as flawed and fallible as the rest of us. And it hurts more because we believed in him. So we take out that anger on him. But people will get over it. We've forgiven Emma Frost, Magneto, Mystique,

Sabretooth...

we won't stay mad forever."

"So you don't think they're right to be mad."

Kitty grinded her teeth. "Errr... you mind drinking that cocoa there, kid?"

Jean didn't know what difference it made, but she obediently drank.

Sighing, Kitty turned to walk out the kitchenette—through a counter. "You're kinda bumping up against the limits of my wise old headmistress act, here. I'd never tell someone not to be angry after they've been hurt, or suffered a loss. But, uh, there's a right way to express that and a wrong way—"

Jean followed her out into her apartment's living room. "Wolverine said he wanted to kill Scott.

My

Scott. Stop the whole thing right there."

"Oy vey... Jean, I love that man, but he is not a role model. He doesn't even drink very good beer... come here."

Kitty sat down on the bed and Jean joined her, sipping her chocolate milk. She still could feel the warmth of Kitty's slumber underneath her. She bounced a little.

"Big bed."

"I had a big boyfriend... listen, I have two things to tell you, and I honestly don't know if they'll make you feel better. But they're the truth, as far as I can tell, and I owe you that much. So, you ready?"

Jean tried for a brave smile. "Nice Jewish girl like you... what's the worst you could say to me?"

"First off: the things Scott's done? All the hurt? Everyone's capable of that. Warren was one of the Four Horsemen. So was Wolverine. Beast was—we actually

called him

Dark Beast. Iceman... okay, Bobby's pretty alright. But I wouldn't be surprised to find he's the bride of Ultron in some crappy alternate future twenty years down the line. Life pokes and prods us and because people are scared, because they're hurt, because they're angry, they jump to places that—that we have to pull them back from. Scott isn't a bad person. Not all the time. It's just that there was so much pressure on him that, that we put there and none of us like to admit that. But honestly? If I were in his shoes? If, from the day I got my powers,

I was in the hot seat?

I can't promise that I'd be half as good a leader, as good a person as Scott. It's not my place to judge.

Ryktʻr nyt kdy yy wwʻrn gʻm

şpt.

"

"What's the second thing?" Jean asked, feeling a constriction in her heart. It wasn't breaking—it'd broken a while ago. She still felt the jagged bits embedded in her. No, it felt like a little of those edges were being pulled out.

"Just that, Scott's done a lot of good. And everyone—

everyone—

is capable of that, too. I know a girl; she's had a life that would make you weep. Literal tears. Her very conception, it was without love. An act of violation. She was born as a science experiment. Abused. Experimented on. Forced to kill and see anyone who showed her kindness die—some at her own hand. Until she ended up here. And now she listens to music and helps people with their homework. All that evil done to her, and she rinsed it off. You've met her: Laura Kinney. She doesn't have to be what was done to her."

"Yeah, but... she gets a choice."

"Who doesn't have a choice?"

"People—some people." Jean turned to Kitty suddenly, pinching her hands so tight around the mug Kitty was worried it would shatter. "Can I stay here tonight?"

"Yeahbuhwhat?"

"It's just—when I had nightmares at the school, the old school, I went to Scott."

Not like that,

she added psychically. "I went to his room and we'd talk, play board games. Even hold each other. The Professor knew, but he was okay with it. We all knew Scott would never... not for a long time. I guess. Not yet, anyway. Only now..." Jean looked down. Kitty's nice, clean carpet. No stains.

I'm such a bad person.

"No you're not, Jean, c'mon..."

Jean couldn't even say the words aloud.

I don't trust him! It's not even... the Phoenix. It's a million different things. Emma Frost, Madeline Pryor, kids—we have kids in the future! Or we don't or... Everyone makes mistakes, but it's like I'm getting uploaded all his mistakes at once and, and...

"And I wouldn't feel safe around him." When Jean heard those words in her own voice, she hated herself. "I'm such a fucking bitch."

"Jean, no—"

"I am! Hard as this is on him, and I'm making it about me. Who cares about me? I get to come back to life. I get to be some sort of Virgin Mary! But the man I love... and I don't even care about him."

"Jean, it is okay to think about yourself first."

"That's what I've been doing!"

Jean threw herself down on the bed. It wasn't hers. Neither was the one in her room. She wanted her old one, her real one—not even the one back at Xavier's, but her own bed in her own room in her own house. The pillows with the floral pattern, the blue comforter with the red patch where her nana had sewn it up, Mr. Biggles the Bear who she was just barely too old for...

She was curled up in a fetal position now, but Kitty was there, petting her back, combing her hair with her fingers, working some magic that made the fierce weight on her feel a little lighter.

"The nightmare wasn't about him. It was about me. About how I'll get the Phoenix..." Jean began to sniffle. "And I'll hurt all those people...

and what if everyone hates me like they do Scott?"

"Ssh... ssh..." Kitty's comforting had gone beyond words now—it was just the warm pressure of her hands on Jean's skin, her closeness, the cooing sound she put in Jean's ear. "Shhhh..."

"They're all my friends—my family—what if they went away? What if they wanted to

kill me

?"

Kitty was even closer now—holding Jean, pulling Jean just a little ways out of the trap she'd made of her own body and into the older woman's embrace. Jean felt herself restrained by Kitty's tight grip, but in a good way. Like without it, she would fly off, explode.

"No one's going to kill you. No one's going to hurt you. As long as you're here, you're under my protection. Me and all the X-Men. And you are always going to be my friend." Kitty kissed Jean at the top of her head. "Trust me, I was there when you died. We were still friends."

Jean found herself laughing and sobbing at the same time. She loved how Kitty understood her—not with the overwhelming, needful affection of Scott, or the cold, clinical diagnosis of the Professor... but with a kind of nostalgia, memory. Like Kitty had been through everything she had, and now had only fondness for all of Jean's horrors.

Kitty reached over to the nightstand, pulled a Kleenex from its box, and brought it to Jean's nose. "Blow," she said. Jean should've felt mortified, being told to blow her nose like a small child, but instead she felt touched at Kitty's unjudging thoughtfulness. She blew. Kitty wiped her nose and tossed the Kleenex away. Now Jean had stopped crying—just a sniffle or two as she rattled out what was left of her fears and sorrow.

And suddenly, Kitty phased them under the covers. The bed was a little womb of cool sheets and a warm comforter against the night chill. And Kitty. Kitty still holding her, keeping her warm, her stroking touch a constant reminder that she was loved and protected.

"You can stay with me tonight," Kitty told her. "And in the morning, we can talk more about it. Or we can not. But I want you to get a good night's rest. And I want you to not be afraid, because I'll be here all night."

"Okay," Jean said, finding it easy, soothing, to give into Kitty. To trust her guidance. "I... I promise I'll really try not to have an accident." With a mortified flush, she remembered her first night in this time, when Kitty had let her sleep in her room. A nightmare had played upon her telekinesis, putting Kitty's room in ruins.

"Don't worry about that. It's only stuff. You could break everything in here—who cares? A Sentinel's probably going to step on it next week anyway. That's why I keep all my movies on the cloud."

"What cloud?"

"Forget it." Kitty patted her, and Jean nearly purred at the contact. It felt so good, having Kitty all around her. Saving her. "Just focus on getting your rest. We'll talk more in the morning, okay?"

"Yes Ms. Pryde."

"Please..." Kitty gave her one last caress before pulling Jean to her chest, to settle in for a good night's sleep. "Call me Kitty."

***

"We're going to get married."

Kitty opened one eye. It was too early in the morning for this. She didn't even know what time it was, and it was too early for this.

"Scott and I." Jean was still in her bed, but on the opposite side of the king-sized mattress. Curled up on herself, a little looser than she'd been when she'd collapsed inward last night, but still balled up. Like a fist. "He showed me the wedding invitation. And yes, there is coffee."

Freaking psychics.

Kitty raised her head to see, in the kitchen, the coffeemaker was bubbling with milk, cream, and sugar hovering nearby.

Wonderful freaking psychics.

"I realize now isn't the best time for this," Kitty said, "but trust me, that is—it's going to be a very good day. Even with what comes after. And before. You have to take the good days."

"How many bad days is a good day worth? When I know all the mistakes that go with it—how can I be sure me and Scott are even good for each other? We just seem to find people we're happier with and—steal each other from those people. Is that what we are? Some toxic, addictive thing?"

"Okay, Jean, first off, bring me coffee." Kitty raised herself up to sit against the headboard. "This is a coffee conversation."

"It's on its way."

"Second—last night you're having nightmares about the Phoenix, now you're having relationship issues? I know this place is a high school with so much drama you'd think we had a distribution deal with Bravo—"

"The Inside The Actors' Studio people?"

"—isn't there usually a little more breathing room between angst? C'mon. We snuggled."

Jean floated a steaming cup of coffee over to Kitty. "It's just... he's obsessed with me, I'm obsessed with him... how much of that makes us better people? Maybe if we just called the stupid thing off—he got together with whatever a Psylocke is and I started dating Warren—maybe we'd be happier? But then, what if he's my destiny?"

Kitty drank. Kid could make a mean cup of joe. She wondered if Jean had gotten coffee for all the boys back at the old school. They were pretty sexist in those days. Made Jean wear a minidress. "Jean, trust me, if people were destined to be together, there'd be a big Russian dude where you're sitting right now."

Or, ya know, your daughter. Awkward.

"If you don't want to be with Scott, then you don't have to be. You don't owe him anything. And you can absolutely find someone else."

"Like you? All anyone can talk about is this—epic love story with me and Scott. If I'm not with him... who am I, even?"

"Oh, honey—you are still such a

teenager,

aren't you? Obsessed with your love story. I'm not judging, really, at least he's... American. C'mere." Kitty patted her lap, not knowing exactly what the gesture meant, but Jean seemed to. She came over and laid down with her head on Kitty's leg. The proximity was nerve-wracking. They could either freak out or... not freak out. Not freaking out was also pretty freaky, though.

They didn't freak out. Jean smiled up at Kitty. 'See how comfortable I am?'

Kitty patted her shoulder. "Listen. On your Wikipedia page—err, your Encyclopedia Britannica entry... under the header on sexual partners, it does not read 'see Summers, Scott.'"

"I... I sleep with other people?"

"Yeah, you and Scott, you have an on-again, off-again, thing. Don't hold it against him, you're dead for a lot of that."

"Not all?" Jean wound an arm under Kitty's knee. "No, don't tell me that, I don't want to know any more than I... know. Just—think you can tell me who I bang without breaking the space-time continuum?"

"You're kidding me? You really wanna know—"