Jean Grey is a Phoenix. (heartofflame) wrote in valarlogs, @ 2012-06-07 19:54:00 |
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Entry tags: | !complete, emma frost (white queen), jean grey (phoenix) |
WHO: Emma Frost & Jean Grey
WHAT: A shared dream and a phonecall.
WHEN: Tonight, late.
WHERE: Their respective apartments and the Dreamspace.
WARNINGS: PG for uh. I don't know. Not really, but G just seems weird.
Emma was dreaming of ice and snow and the X-Men. It wasn't pretty. In the world conjured up by old memories or an alternate reality, Emma was in a white gown. The snow fell and left goosebumps in their wake on her skin, but she could hardly feel it. Not with the Phoenix fixing to burn the world away.
There was a fire in the sky and in the middle of it was Jean Grey, broken or fractured and simply not herself. Emma found herself unable to care about the woman, only about the aftermath she could leave.
"She needs all of us," Scott said, in full Cyclops uniform. "You read me, Emma?"
"Yes." She met Scott's eyes. If this plan didn't work, it was entirely possible that the entire world was going to burn. "Go for it, darling."
Emma, with the help of the Cuckoos and Cerebra reached out to the X-Men. Tremendous psychic power, reaching across the globe and Emma wasn't especially breaking a sweat with effort.
There were suddenly so many voices in Emma's mind, so many unique spirits all talking through her... for Jean. It seemed only a moment in reality, but in psychic space, time could stretch. A small eternity passed with Jean being utterly adored and needed and welcomed and loved by her friends.
"God, Jean. How does it feel to be loved that much." All of that emotion brought tears to Emma's eyes. She hadn't even liked Jean Grey, but the force of all of that beauty shook her.
Jean stood before the X-Men in a white costume. "My friends..."
The dream ended suddenly, Emma tumbling back into reality. She found her eyelashes damp and wiped her cheeks with the back of her hands. Without really thinking about the time, she reached for her phone and dialed Jean.
"I had this dream..." she said, manners forgotten.
Jean stared at the phone before picking up, recently waking up herself from the exact same dream. “Emma...”
Her own tears were still streaming down her face, the intensity of the emotion nearly too much for her. “Emma, was that... did you?”
"The white Phoenix... in the snow." Emma was swallowing around a lump in her throat and sounded uncharacteristically emotional. She sniffed quietly. "The X-Men. We were X-Men."
“And I was the Phoenix.”
For the first time, Jean was able to say it without fear. “How... how could so many people... Emma, this is surreal. How are we sharing our dreams now? What does any of it mean?”
Emma sat up in her bed, gathering herself. She took a very deep breath and the flood of emotion became easier to control. "I have no bloody idea." They were connected, though, and that couldn't possibly be a bad thing. "That was so... I had so much power." She missed it terribly upon waking.
Jean rubbed her eyes for a moment, shaking her head as if to clear it. “It’s always like that. The Phoenix... my God, it’s unreal. I wake up and I just feel like I need to throw up and dance at the same time. It’s too much. In the dream I can handle it, but...”
She cleared her throat. “Emma, I have to tell you. I had another dream the other night. About Scott.”
Emma let out a soft laugh. The telepathy in her dreams didn't make her quite that energetic, but then she didn't dream of being a nigh unstoppable god-like being. "I wake up feeling like I'm missing something... like a part of me is gone or hidden away." It was so strange to talk about. Emma hid these sort of feelings so often that she could almost pretend them away.
She frowned. Something about Jean's voice made her suddenly uneasy. "What about him?"
Jean cleared her throat. Awkwardly.
“We were married, Emma. But in that dream we just had, I know we weren’t. And... I don’t know how to explain it. I just needed to tell you about it.” She felt guilty.
Emma was silent. The words seemed to make more sense than they should have and something ugly reared in the back of Emma's mind. Jealousy. Old jealousy... something that lingered from a long time ago. Her mouth formed a thin line.
"What does it matter?" She asked breezily, trying very hard to not sound upset by the knowledge that wasn't exactly new.
“I’m so sorry, Emma.” She flailed a little bit, falling back against the pillow. “I don’t... I don’t understand it. I mean I really don’t feel that way for Scott Summers at all. It was just a...”
She couldn’t say it. These were more than dreams.
“I don’t love him. I promise.”
"It's fine." Though she sounded annoyed, she meant it. At the same time, Emma couldn't really understand where the unpleasantness was coming from. "I believe you." She took a deep breath.
Jean was surprised, and couldn’t help the rushing feeling of hurt. Was that betrayal? She didn’t understand, and she wasn’t sure she wanted to.
“I should go.”
"Don't be stupid," Emma said, and there was a softness to it that had been missing a few moments before. "Don't be upset."
“It’s fine, just... something is so off about all this and I sometimes feel like it’s tearing me apart.” Jean swallowed, shaking her head again.
“I’m worried there’s more of this coming. Where it all ends.”
Emma was silent for longer than necessary. She wasn't sure what sort of an end Jean was implying, but didn't like it. She worried about Jean. Scott had shared with Emma that he'd dreamed of her grave, but Emma hadn't been brave enough to bring it up.
"Whatever happens, we'll be alright. We'll make sure of it together." A pause. "Nothing's going to break us." She sounded strong, even if she didn't feel it herself.
“This isn’t that world,” Jean said, something strange in her town. “Whatever happened there happened, and clearly something is... I don’t know. Bleeding over. But I am not going to let it define what I do today or tomorrow.”
She sat up a little straighter in bed. “I’m not afraid.”
There was something curious in Jean's voice but Emma held back a comment. "Good," she said. "Good." After a moment, she sighed. "I just hope... it doesn't change me," she admitted.
“We’re stronger than that,” Jean said softly, that tone gone. “Come on, could you really see something coming between us?”
"No," Emma said. She believed it. "But you don't know what I've seen myself do." Her voice was quiet. The burden of guilt lay on her shoulders and she was afraid that if she let it fade for one moment, she might turn into that Emma. The one who tormented school children and was one girl's definition of evil.
Jean sighed. “Emma, you can’t let it get to you any more than I can. Come on, who cheered me up after the first dreams started? Told me I wasn’t that woman? Don’t let this hurt you so badly.”
Emma inhaled. She wanted to tell Jean that it wasn't the dreams that scared her so badly, as it was the knowledge that she could easily slip into the role that woman had played. Emma empathized with that Emma. She knew that she had a lot of potential to become that woman.
She smiled, but didn't exactly feel it. "You're right, of course. I'm being silly. It's late."
“Emma,” Jean said quietly, wishing she could give her a hug, “It’s going to be all right. I promise you.”
"I know," she said. She believed Jean would do everything in her power to keep them both happy and safe. Whether she could keep goodness in Emma Frost was the question of the night.