âDid you? All the time?â Kitty sniffled, suddenly lulled into a quiet with the simple idea that Jean had thought of her too. Like a child, Kitty thought bitterly, catching her own reaction. It was always these little things, knowing someone cared for her, even a just a touch, that quieted the anxiety in her heart. Like a childâor something worse, something selfish and insecure. Had she always been so fickle? âNo, hold on now,â she shook her head, a choked giggle caught in her throatâa vision of the girl she used to beââdonât you sweet talk me! Iâm supposed to be mad at you.â
But it was the girl she wasnât anymore, or the one she refused to let herself be. And the moment, the glint of a teasing joke behind her eyes, died just as quickly as itâd come.Â
âGone?â She croaked, hoping the more she said it the more it would make sense. Admittedly, she didnât know much about the Phoenix Force, only what sheâd pieced together from knowing both Rachel and Jean. âCan it really just be gone?â Maybe Kitty should have been happier for Jean; it was good news, wasnât it? The thing she couldnât control was gone for good and maybe this was her shot at a new life. But Kitty knew it wouldnât be that simple, not for Jean, not for anyone. âI tried to make it pretty,â she confessed, âI tried to start a garden over the scorched bits butâŠâ she only got as far as watering it, which was sad enough in its own right. âWildfires make forests more lush.â The last sentence had spilled out of her for a reason she couldnât explain. And so, she didnât try to. ( She worried, briefly, that it sounded almost like Jean dying was good )
âI want you to stop dying, for starters, and then maybe better uniforms for the X-Men,â she rubbed her arms, manufacturing a warmth she wished she could ask Jean for. Kitty let Jean speak, and then she let silence wash over them. âItâs not a life, Jean,â she whimpered in reply finally, turning her head away as hot tears fell under the shadow of the dimly lit hall. âAnd itâs not fair. You should get a happy ending, we all should. Donâtâdonât doom yourself before you can even hope. Is it wrong to want more, Jean? Am I wrong for wanting you to live? Why must your sense of reality be so bleak? Call it realismâor whatever you wantâbut I refuse to believe it.âÂ
She didnât want a promise, she just wanted Jean to liveâwhatever that meant.
And Kitty took the fact that Jean was not bursting at the seams with excitement to be alive again and rid of the Phoenix to mean that she really was just waiting until the next time the world would demand her sacrificeâand that was not a life. Not to Kitty, not as she saw it.
( In another, smaller voice, a whisper meant only for her own ears, âI never signed up for this.â And she hadnât, not really. Sheâd joined as a child thinking being an X-Men would be fun. )
âAlso, I want a hug, you jerk.â
Thinking about the X-Men in the White Hot Room was so easy, especially with the running tally of alternate universes the Phoenix presented to her. Jean could see how their lives wouldâve changed if Ororo appeared later, if Kitty wasnât brought into the fold so young, if Jean was the one Charles chose as leader instead of the obvious choice, Scott. So many universes had them even worse off than this one, but that didnât make Jean any more equipped to deal with Kitty standing in front of her now. âAll the time,â Jean repeated. She wouldâve said every day, but time was something of a strange concept in the Room. Sheâd been there for years according to Scott, but when she looked back, it felt like days. Hours. Minutes, sometimes.
Kitty laughed, even if it was more of a choked sob, and Jean managed a small smile in her direction. âI especially missed banana pancakes,â she said, deciding to double down on something so small, something that shouldnât mean a thing at all in the grand scheme, but was so important. âYou canât really eat when youâreâ you know.â
Gone. Jean remembered standing in front of Rogue, explaining that the Phoenix wasnât just her codename, that it wasnât even her. It was a force, a cosmic entity that Jean had no hope of controlling no matter how much it professed to love her. The rest of the X-Men seemed to be aware of that fact now. She supposed that was down to the fireworks show down on the lawn. Anyone who knew Jean â or at least, she hoped it was as easy as that â had to know that the last thing she would willingly do was put her family in danger. âIt used to be ⊠everywhere. I felt warm, all the time.â Jean swallowed thickly, crossing her arms against her chest, almost hugging herself, bracing against the new cold. âItâs gone. I donât feel it anymore.â
For a beat, Jean flashed back to herself, the way she had justified the Phoenixâs actions so long ago. âLife comes from rebirth,â Jean said lowly. âI can ⊠I could help you, when winterâs over. Or we could move them into a greenhouse.â Planning for the future was always the way Jean dealt with the aftermath of a fight, pretending that there was a level of stability that X-Men could never guarantee. But Kitty wasnât a child. Not anymore, not since the day Charles brought her into the fold, really. This time, Jean really did laugh, even if it came out rough from disuse. âIâm sure Charles would have something to say about emblazoning our asses with a sparkled Gucci,â Jean joked â but the atmosphere swiftly changed, and Jean didnât know what to do with that, even if sheâd been the one to cause it.
She caught a glimpse, just a reflection, of tears in the darkness of the hallway, and her anger seeped out of her as quickly as the Phoenixâs power had when Jean got so damn tired of fighting, like a dam finally released into the lake. âEndings arenâtââ Jean took a sharp breath, trying to dispel some of the guilt that settled on her chest heavy, like a stone weighing down on her ribcage. âEndings shouldnât be what you want. Endings are the worst part.â
They were never going to have that final fight that ended things. They were never going to be able to rest. The only peace Jean ever got was in snatches of moments. Pancakes with Kitty. Watching TV with Bobby, laughing as he imitated the accents on the screen. Looking out over the lawn to see Scott training the new students. But was Kitty wrong for not seeing the world as Jean did?
âYouâre not wrong,â Jean said, lowly. So far as her sense of reality, the bleakness of it ⊠maybe she was cynical now. Maybe she was jaded. But thatâs what three attempts at death would do to you, and itâs what being dragged into something you didnât expect would do to you, and itâs what fighting a war since you were a teenager would do to you.
Kitty knew that more than most.
Jean looked up from her feet at Kittyâs next words, and she didnât hesitate before crossing the distance between them, wrapping her arms tightly around the younger girl. âI thought about this all the time too,â she whispered. âI missed you a whole lot, Kit Kat.â