“It’s not like I chose to be this way,” Jean murmured, more to herself than to Wanda, looking into the middle distance with a frown tugging at the corners of her lips and furrowing her brow. “I was born like this. I didn’t even…I didn’t even realize I was different until ten years old. My friend…” She swallowed, balling her hands into fists, resting in her lap. “My friend Annie was hit by a car. I–I felt it. Everything she felt while she was dying, I…my mind reached out to hers, or maybe it was the other way around, and I could feel all of it like it was actually happening to me.” She looked up at Wanda. “That’s what people are afraid of,” she said. “That I can feel it when someone is dying. I know their last thoughts, I feel their fear or their anger or their sadness. I’m never alone in my own head.” She twisted her fingers together as Wanda spoke, nodding softly. “Okay,” she said, with a little sigh. Jean was afraid of tapping into her powers and really exploring them, but she knew if anyone could get her through it, it was Wanda. “Thank you,” she said, with a shy little smile. “It means a lot to me that you’re willing to help.”
None of them had chose to be this way. The x-gene wasn’t something to pick or choose. It was assigned at birth just the same way everything else that composed DNA was. It was a game of lottery. A very rare few got it while the rest of the population didn’t. It was all down to the father and whether or not he possessed the gene. Jean’s father just so happened to. Erik just so happened to. Wanda’s eyes fell and she was happy that Jean wasn’t looking back at her. “I’m sorry.” The story was tragic, but that wasn’t uncommon among mutants. When Jean agree to try, she smiled at the younger woman. Wanda knew that there was more that she could help her with than Charles could, but not for lack of trying. “You’re welcome.” She didn’t think that there was anything to thank her for, but it was polite.