𝐓𝐡𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐎𝐩𝐭𝐢𝐜 𝐋𝐞𝐧𝐬𝐞𝐬 - 𝐒𝐜𝐨𝐭𝐭 𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐞𝐫𝐬

𝟐𝟑. 𝑻𝒉𝒆 𝑷𝒉𝒆𝒐𝒏𝒊𝒙

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As the jet touched down on the rough terrain, Ororo and Logan cautiously disembarked, their senses heightened as they scanned the eerie surroundings.

"You don't want to be here," Ororo muttered, her voice barely above a whisper.

"Do you?" Logan shot back, his tone equally grim.

The air was dense with a thick, unnatural fog that clung to the landscape, making it nearly impossible to see more than a few feet ahead.

"Can't see a damn thing," Logan grumbled, his frustration growing.

"I can take care of that," Ororo replied, summoning her powers. The fog began to dissipate, revealing the disturbing scene around them.

The entire lake was in disarray, with rocks, debris, and even plant life suspended in the air, defying gravity. The very laws of nature seemed to have been twisted beyond recognition.

"What the—" Logan started, his words cut off as a rock drifted toward him. He batted it away with a casual flick of his hand before continuing to follow Ororo through the bizarre landscape.

As they ventured further, something caught Logan's eye. A flash of red in his peripheral vision pulled him closer, his heart sinking as he recognized the familiar optic glasses of Scott Summers. His breath hitched, dread pooling in his stomach as he feared the worst.

Suddenly, Ororo's urgent shout snapped him out of his daze. "Logan!"

He sprinted to her side, where she was crouched over Rory's unconscious form. Her pulse was faint but present, giving Logan a small measure of relief. But a few feet away, his eyes fell on Scott and Jean, both lying motionless on the ground.

"Jean?" Logan's voice was thick with emotion.

Logan quickly knelt beside Jean, gently brushing away the strands of hair that had fallen across her face. His gaze then shifted to Storm, who was visibly shaken.

"They're alive."

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Scott slowly regained consciousness, the first thing he noticed was the cool, sterile scent of the infirmary. His body felt heavy, and a dull ache pulsed through his head. As he tried to open his eyes, he was met with darkness—a thick cloth was wrapped securely around them, preventing him from seeing anything.

He shifted slightly, wincing at the stiffness in his muscles. His hand instinctively reached up to touch the cloth, but he stopped halfway, realizing what it meant. His heart sank as the events at Alkali Lake came rushing back—Jean, the voices, the battle. His breath hitched, and he fought the rising tide of panic.

"Scott?" a soft voice broke through his turmoil.

He turned his head toward the sound, recognizing it instantly. "Rory?"

"Yeah, I'm here," Rory replied, her voice laced with concern. She was lying in the bed next to his, propped up slightly on her elbows. The warmth of her presence was a small comfort in the midst of his confusion.

"Are you okay?" Scott's voice was hoarse, his throat dry.

"I'm fine," she assured him, though the lingering fatigue in her voice told him she was still recovering. "What about you? How are you feeling?"

Scott hesitated, his fingers brushing against the cloth again. "I don't know," he admitted, his voice trembling slightly. "I can't see anything."

Rory sat up more fully, her heart aching at the vulnerability in his tone. "It's just temporary," she said, trying to sound reassuring. "The professor said it's a precaution, to give your eyes time to adjust after... everything."

"After everything," Scott echoed, his mind flashing back to the moment he had seen Jean—no, the Phoenix—at the lake. The power, the overwhelming surge of energy, and then nothing. "Your powers, how did you-?" he whispered, the fear he had been holding back finally breaking through.

Rory sighed, "I don't know. My mutations always given me strong abilities but I ripped through the fabric of our universe. Scott, I did it to save you but what if I become too powerful, what if I end up hurting-"

Scott reached out, trying to feel for her through his temporary loss of vision. His attempts were futile as their beds were placed far apart. The professor claimed that Jean may have been able to infiltrate Scott's mind, making him a threat to Rory.

"I won't let that happen. I'm sorry Rory, for all of this. If I had just listened to you none of this would've happened. I keep fucking up and nearly killing you. If anything I'm the threat."

"No Scott, our love is the threat to everyone else."

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LOGAN

"The sheer mass of water that collapsed on top of Jean should have obliterated her completely. The only explanation for her survival is that her powers enveloped her in a cocoon of telekinetic energy," the professor explained, his hands gently cradling Jean's head as if trying to reach her through the darkness.

Logan, tense and anxious, asked, "Is she gonna be okay?"

The professor sighed, the weight of the truth heavy on his shoulders. "Jean Grey is the only class five mutant I've ever encountered. Her potential is practically limitless. But her mutation resides in the unconscious part of her mind, and therein lies the danger. When she was a child, I created a series of psychic barriers to isolate her powers from her conscious mind. As a result, Jean developed a dual personality."

Logan frowned, struggling to grasp the enormity of what he was hearing. "What?"

"The conscious Jean, whose powers were always under control... and a dormant side, a personality that, in our sessions, came to call itself the Phoenix—a purely instinctual being of desire, joy... and rage."

"She knew all this?" Logan asked, a mix of shock and concern in his voice.

The professor shook his head slightly. "It's unclear how much she knew. The real question is whether the woman in front of us is the Jean Grey we know, or the Phoenix, desperately trying to break free."

Logan looked down at Jean, her face serene. "She looks pretty peaceful to me."

"Because I'm keeping her that way," the professor replied, his tone somber. "I'm trying to restore the psychic blocks, to cage the beast once again."

Logan's eyes narrowed, suspicion and anger rising within him. "What have you done to her?"

"You have to understand, Logan—"

"You're messing with her mind, with Jean."

"She has to be controlled."

"Control?" Logan's voice hardened. "You know, sometimes when you cage the beast, the beast gets angry."

"You have no idea what she's capable of."

Logan shook his head, disappointment and frustration evident. "No, Professor. I had no idea what you were capable of."

The professor's gaze remained steady, though pained. "I had a terrible choice to make. I chose the lesser of two evils."

Logan scoffed, disbelief in his voice. "Well, it sounds like Jean didn't have much of a choice at all."

The professor, weary and resolute, replied, "I don't have to explain myself, least of all to you."

With a final, frustrated glance, Logan turned and left the room, leaving the professor to resume his delicate, dangerous work, his hands returning to Jean's head as he continued his struggle to keep the Phoenix at bay

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