Subject: [RedShades] Another Beginning's End 1/2
Date: Wed, 16 Aug 2000 23:17:26 -0700
From: "Elizabeth" <ekayej@msn.com>

The following story is based on X-Factor #1, the "return" of the
original X-Men.  I was interested in what was going on in Scott's
head in this issue, since it's basically the beginning of at least
twenty issues of mental breakdown, and I can't resist angst.  For
anyone who's interested in following along in the pictures, the
issue is now conveniently available in the trade pb reprint 'Phoenix
Rising'.

DISCLAIMER:  All characters and events mentioned are property of
Marvel and not a penny is being made.  Most of the dialogue is
lifted straight from the issue, written by Louise Simonson, though I
did strengthen the language a bit.

Comments welcome! at ekayej@msn.com

Another Beginning's End
by Elizabeth Johnson

"Every new beginning comes from
some other beginning's end."
        -- "Closing Time" by Semisonic

        It's all falling apart.
        I had the dream again.  It drove me outside, to look up at
the moon, as if to prove to myself that if the moon exists, so did
what happened there.  Jean's dead.  I know that-- it's carved into
my soul.  So why do dreams of her still haunt me?  Why does she
still live inside my mind, calling to me?
        I stand on the deck and look out at the mountains, and all I
feel is the hollow nothingness that always follows the dream of her
death.  It's memory, down to the taste of the lunar dust in the back
of my throat, but also a dream, because each time, I already know
what's going to happen.  And I can't wake up until she's gone
again...
        I wish I could blame Rachel somehow.  She was the one who
brought it all back, when she took the name of Phoenix.  Standing at
the top of the stairs before we went to Asgard, she was wearing
Jean's costume.  With her red hair and green eyes, I thought I was
seeing Jean again.  It was like a knife, cutting off the layers of
denial like they didn't exist.
        Charles, damn him, was right.  He had warned me that Maddy
was a substitute for who I really wanted.  He told me that I was
using her to hide from the truth.  I yelled at him, told him to mind
his own fucking business, that I was done with him and his dream.  I
told him that I loved Madelyne, for herself.  Her uncanny
resemblance to Jean was just that, a resemblance, and it meant
nothing.
        I didn't even know I was lying.  Not then.
        But I do now.
        How do I tell Madelyne?  The truth is, I can't.  I can't
tell her.  I made a promise to her, and to our son, that I would be
here.  I promised I would stay with them, and I would be faithful.
I will keep that promise.  Somehow.
        I remember being so happy when she told me she was pregnant.
For awhile, I could pretend that things were as they had been.  Just
me and Maddy, without any ghosts between us, as we waited for our
son to be born.
        But Nathan Christopher's arrival didn't patch up the flaws
in my marriage-- it widened them.  First her insistence on the name
Nathan-- it reminds me of things I'd rather forget.  But more
importantly, Maddy has never really liked being around the X-Men,
and she still doesn't really understand that they're my family.
Ororo, Hank, Kurt, Bobby, Warren...  All the X-Men.  But Maddy
thinks she should be all I need.  She's right, she should be.  But
she's not.
        The job of husband and father shouldn't be too tough-- men
manage to do it all the time, but Cyclops, former leader of the
X-Men, is turning in a really shoddy performance.  If this were a
battle, I would know what to do.  If this were a Danger Room
exercise, I could find a way to win.  But it's a family.
        Scott Summers, family man-- what a joke.  What the hell do I
know about family?  I don't remember having one.
        Trying to be a family is hard enough, but it's harder to
watch the news of worsening human-mutant relations and not _do_
anything about it.  I sit here in safety and feel positively
useless.  Restless.  Have I been throwing myself in the jaws of
death for so long that I can't live a "normal" life?  Am I just an
action junkie?
        Maybe.
        I feel I'm slowly drowning.  She's pulling me down with her
into "domestic bliss", and I'm losing the man that I was.  I liked
being Cyclops.  I liked being in control.  I liked the danger and
the excitement.
        Plain old Scott Summers just isn't that interesting.  He may
be enough for Maddy, but he's not enough for me.  I don't want to be
him, or at least not _only_ him.  With Jean, I could be both.  She
loved both.
        Maddy is afraid of Cyclops.  So I push that part of me away,
trying to be the husband and father she wants me to be.  But it's
slowly killing me.
        So I creep out of the bed we share, because I can't talk to
her about what I feel.  I can't tell her that we're dying.  I know
it; she knows it.  But the more she clings, the more it makes me
want to run away.
        I hear the door open to the deck, and know that this time
she woke up and found me gone.   Her voice, so like Jean's yet
somehow different, is quiet.  "Scott?  It's awfully chilly out here.
Come back to bed, please?"
        Funny, I hadn't noticed the cold.  I can't even look at her,
knowing what I'll see:  Jean's face, Maddy's pleading eyes.  I keep
my gaze fixed out onto the mountains.  "I'll be in, in awhile.
Please go on back and get some sleep."
        She comes closer instead.  I can hear her soft, hesitant
tread on the deck.  "Scott, I'm... sorry for snapping at you
earlier... It's just that-- I'm frightened.  I don't want to lose
what we have."
        "I understand that."  Something about the night inspires the
truth.  I just wish my voice wasn't so cold.  "I'm ... just not
exactly sure what we do have anymore."
        The words can't be a surprise to her.  We've both been
thinking the same thing for weeks.  But it takes her a moment to
find words.  I know I've hurt her, but lies can't help us.  There've
been enough of those.
        "Scott, I've tried to overlook a lot of things.  I tried to
be understanding when you weren't here for the baby's birth."
        She seems to expect some kind of response.  "I know.  I
should've been here."  I don't say that it should've been her first
clue that I'm no good at this.
        "I've even tried to deal with the fact that I resemble your
dead lover.  It's never been an easy thing for me to live with."
        You should try being me, Maddy.  It was an incredibly easy
thing for me to live with, at least at the beginning.  Like all my
prayers were answered.
        "It's Jean, isn't it?  You're thinking about her, right
now-- aren't you?"
        She accuses me -- hoping for a denial.  Hoping I'll turn to
her, saying "no, no, of course not, I'm thinking of you..."
        But that would be a lie.  And I just can't lie to her
anymore.
        "Yes."
        She doesn't say anything more, just turns and walks away.  I
know it's over.  Oh, it may linger on for awhile, but it ended just
now.
        No spectacular fireworks this time, as another relationship
turns to ashes.  Just a silent crash and burn.
        I really don't want it to end like this.  But I don't know
what else to do.
        I watch her walk away and then turn again to look at the
mountains which seem to glow with a silvery radiance, bathed in
moonlight.
        This isn't what Jean would want.  It isn't what I want.  I
can't be hung up on her for the rest of my life.  I can't
continually want something that was taken away, when I have
something perfectly good already in my grasp.  Maddy loves me.  I
love my son.  That has to be enough.  I refuse to give up so easily.
        As if my marriage is a battle plan, the Cyclops portion of
my head goes to work.  First, I have to return to bed.  Second, I
have to apologize.  Third, and the most difficult, I have to ask for
Maddy's help.  I need to exorcise my ghosts.  I don't know how to do
it, but surely together, we can.
        So I return to the bedroom.  Maddy's still awake, but she's
pretending to be asleep.  I slip under the covers and murmur, very
softly, as if I believe she's asleep, "I'm sorry.  I'll make it up
to you, I promise."  I bend over and kiss her cheek, trying not to
smile when her rigidly curled position stretches out and she turns
with a fake sort of murmur as if she's stirring.
        She cuddles closer to me, and I put an arm around her.  She
falls asleep first, but I remain awake until the baby's cries wake
Maddy at four.  I get him for her to feed, and get them both back to
sleep, before I finally fall asleep myself.
        I wake up to the smell of bacon frying and of coffee, two of
the best smells in the universe.  My determination to make
everything right again is just as strong as it was last night.
        After showering and dressing quickly, I go to the kitchen,
uncertain of my reception.  "Good morning."
        Maddy turns with a smile.  "Good morning.  Have a seat,
Scott. Breakfast is almost ready."
        Maddy rarely cooks breakfast for me.  Usually I cook
breakfast for her, since she's usually tired from being up with the
baby.  But this morning she's bursting with energy, as if some
happy-homemaker demon has possessed her.  She won't let me talk
about last night, or anything much at all, through all of breakfast.
        But finally, as we're cleaning up, I know that we can't
avoid it anymore.  "Thanks for the breakfast, Maddy.  I'm really
sorry about last night.  But- we'll work it out.  You'll see!  In a
few--"
        The phone rings.  Not too many people have our number and
would call at seven o'clock.
        "Oh!  Would you get that, Scott?  My hands are all wet."
        I'm looking at the phone already, like it's some kind of
poisonous snake.  "Sure."
        It's going to be bad news.  I can tell.  I have a terrible,
rock-like feeling in my gut--  pure dread.
        "Hello?"
        The other voice is familiar, and doesn't sound morose.
Maybe uncertain, but he doesn't have bad news. "Hey, Scott.  It's
Warren."
        "Warren!  How are you?  I--"
        He cuts me off.  "Scott.  Jean's alive."
        The words slide through me like a sheet of ice.  I can't
believe it.  Two words I prayed I would hear, but never expected
even in my wildest dreams.  I think I make a sound, something like a
strangled rabbit.
        Warren repeats it.  "Jean's alive."
        "But..."  I reach for words, finding them elusive.  A bolt
of lightning has struck from the sky.  "How?  How can that be?
It's -- it's impossible!"
        I want to believe.  I want to know that it was a terrible
mistake.  But I saw it.  I saw her die.  I saw her turn to ashes in
front of my eyes, screaming my name.  She can't come back.
        Warren answers hurriedly, "It's true, Scott.  The Avengers
found her.  She's our Jean.  She's here, at the Waldorf in New York.
I don't know how to ask you this, buddy-- are you going to come?"
        The answer pours out of me, without thought or
consideration.  "Yes, yes.  I'll be there.  Bye."
        I collapse against the wall, thoughts whirling in my brain.
Emotions too complicated to name swirl in my heart.
        She's alive.
        Oh, my God.  She's alive.
        I have to know if it's true.  Warren could be fooled.  The
Avengers could be fooled.  But not me.  I'll know if it's my Jean.
        "Scott?"
        Maddy's voice is like a splash of cold water.
        "Darling, what is it?  What did Warren want?"
        I can't tell her.  I can't tell her that her "rival" is back
from the dead.  Hell, I can't deal with this at all.  Jean's alive.
I'm shaking so hard I can't even put the phone away.
        "He... uh... needs me to meet him in New York-- today!"
It's even sort of the truth.
        "Well, tell him you can't make it!"
        No, please, not this.  Not now.  "I-- I can't do that,
Maddy!"
        I have to see her.  I have to.  Nothing else is important.
        Maddy's voice is shrill-- Jean's never was.  "Scott Summers,
if you walk out that door-- don't bother coming back!"
        Her words ring through the kitchen, startling us both with
her vehemence.
        Maddy.  Nathan Christopher.  I can still work things out if
I stay.  Maddy loves me enough to forgive just about anything.  We
could get through this.
        Same red hair.  Same green eyes.  Would it be so bad to
stay?
        Jean.
        My soul _sings_ with the thought of just her name.  She's
alive.
        I am not strong enough to do the right thing.  I can't turn
my back and pretend Warren never called.  I have to _know_.
        "I'm-- sorry, Maddy."  My voice should belong to someone
else, it doesn't sound like me at all.  "I have to go!"
        Her crying is all I hear as I quickly pack a small bag.  I
haven't looked at her once since I answered the phone, afraid she'll
read the truth in my face.
        I peek in on the baby.  "I'll be back, little one," I
whisper, kissing his forehead.  "This will all work out, you'll
see."
        It'll probably work out _badly_, but I'm not going to tell
him that.
        As I settle in my airplane seat in Anchorage, I know this is
a mistake.  Whenever I let my emotions run wild over my head, bad
things happen.  I almost get off again, but after the doors close I
have a strange feeling of relief.  The die is cast now and there's
no going back.  One way or the other, I will discover the truth.
        The entire flight I convince myself that it can't be real.
People don't come back from the dead-- it's not possible.  If I
hadn't seen it, I might believe it.  But I was there.  I felt it.
Jean _can't_ be alive, whatever Warren may think.
        Maddy didn't mean it.  When I get back, after I expose this
fake Jean, I can work things out with her.  I just have to play out
the farce and I can get home.
        I take a taxi to the hotel, and try to keep my composure as
I find the elevator.  I ride alone to the eleventh floor, but as
soon as the doors open, the hall is swarming with security.  Five
men have guns pointed at me, so I instinctively drop into a combat
stance.  Another guard fortunately figures out who I am and escorts
me to the suite.
        The living area of the suite is huge, with plenty of room
for Warren's wings unfurled.  He's wearing his Angel uniform-- a
sight I haven't seen for awhile.
        "Warren, what are all those rent-a-cops doing outside?"
        "Is that any way to greet an old friend, Scott?"  Warren
chides, teasing.  I am not in the mood, and I just stare at him as I
come down the steps.  I have come a very long way, I have not slept,
all on his word that Jean's alive.  The room is deserted, except for
him.
        He goes on to tell me about his security concerns, but I
don't listen.  My gaze strays to the connecting door to the rest of
the suite.  "Where is she, Warren?"  My voice trembles with all the
things caught in my chest.  Can it be true?  Can it really be true?
        His voice softens sympathetically and he gestures to the
door.  "She's in the next room.  She's been waiting for you."
        If the door becomes the gate to hell in the next moment, I
can't be more afraid of it than I am now.  My stomach is in tight
knots, I'm sweating, and I feel as though my legs are going to
collapse.  Am I afraid to find that it is Jean?  Or that it's not?
        I have my hand on the knob and I turn back.  "How much...
have you told her?"
        Warren's smile melts away.  "Not a thing, ol' buddy.  I'm
afraid I had to leave that to you."
        Just as I thought.  She doesn't know.
        I shove open the door.  The room beyond has carpet and a
window, I'm sure, but I will never be able to remember what else.
        I see only her.

(continued)

********************************
ekayej@msn.com
Elizabeth Johnson
********************************
"Does this strike any of you superior beings as ironic?
... I'm the deficient one, and I'm still saving your butts."
          -- Crichton, _Farscape_