It was impossible. Hank had seen many people hit by Alex’s blasts, and not many of them had lived. But what Alex had unleashed on the Professor that day wasn’t a small attack, he’d been furious and in pain. Somehow, Jean had survived the hit. Jean had always been remarkable, her power and skill exceeding the Professor himself. But she was also wild, untameable. Dangerous, and that’s why the Professor had done what he did all those years ago. Seeing her like this, now, he can’t help but have a hunch about what was going on. And he didn’t like it.
Calling in Josh was a last ditch effort, not because Josh was incapable of helping but because he didn’t like to involve students in matters this serious. The last thing he wanted, should they fail in waking Jean entirely, was for Josh to feel somehow responsible. He looks at the boy’s eager but terrified face as he comes in, his own expression grim. Jean was Josh’s best friend, but she was a little sister to Hank and Alex, like a brother. This whole incident has left him drained. “Josh,” he greets him with a firm clap on the back. “I want to start by saying this might be hard to see, okay? She looks… Well. She doesn’t look like she normally does.” Leading the younger man into the back of the infirmary where Jean rests in private, the redhead is floating above her bed. Her veins are accentuated, like there’s fire within them and even the ones on her face and forehead are lit. But her expression is peaceful, like she feels no pain.
Josh is startled by Jean’s glowing appearance, thinking it to be one of the oddest things he’d ever seen. Despite the fire that seemed to burn beneath her skin, her face was wondrously smooth and calm. Taking a few hesitant steps toward her floating body, he’s struck with an immense energy. Without yet touching her, the inner workings of her body spring into his mind’s eye in brilliant technicolor -- blazing red and orange. Whatever was causing this reaction was by no means organic, but it did not seem to be causing her harm. On the contrary, her molecules appeared to be adapting to the energy, absorbing it. She was growing stronger. He tells Hank as much, trying to suppress his emotions in order to give a leveled and clinical report. “Things might become clearer once I touch her,” he says, and slowly reaches a hand up to rest it on her thin arm.
The only thing that changes is the picture. It’s clearer in his mind now, and he can see every organ and even hear the roar of blood rushing through veins on fire. It relieved him immensely to see for himself that she was fine, for all intents and purposes. Though it still didn’t give him any clues as to when she’d wake. He removes his hand from her arm, frustrated with himself. What was he missing? Why couldn’t he put the pieces together? The energy was entirely foreign to him and he could not make heads or tails of it, no matter how hard he focused. All he knew was that it wasn’t hurting her, and that the complex compounds of her biology were subsuming it. He tries to tell himself that should be enough. But it’s not. “I’m sorry,” he says, pained and exasperated that he was unable to come up with anything concrete. “I can’t figure it out. I can see that she’s absorbing the energy but I don’t know for how long or when it’ll stop... if it’ll ever stop. It looks to me like it’s on a loop.” He drags a hand through his hair, lips pressed in a tight grimace when he wasn’t speaking. “I’m sorry,” he says again. “I wish I was better help.”
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