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.

Full auburn hair, wide emerald eyes, heart-shaped face with high cheekbones and pale porcelain skin, slim figure in a black halter dress I've never seen before.

Oh my God.

It is Jean.

I know it in my heart even before she sees me and her lips part in a joyful smile. "Scott!"

It's her voice.

I barely manage to find my own. "Jean?"

She flings herself into my arms. For just an instant, I let myself hold her. And I know it's her body against mine. "Oh, Scott! I was afraid I'd never see you again! I thought they were keeping you from me... but you're finally here!"

I have to look at her. I look into her eyes, and the fingers of my left hand trace the angle of her jaw and her lips.

"It-- really is you! I can't believe it. It doesn't seem possible!"

"Of course it's me, handsome!"

My gaze drops to my hand, which is touching her cheek. The glint of gold sparkles on my finger.

Oh, dear God. No. This can't be happening.

She throws her arms around my neck to kiss me soundly. "Who else loves you this much?"

I push away from her. No. This is too much. I can't bear this. I can't bear her happiness, her open and honest love, when I've wrecked everything. "Jean, I-- I--"

I can't finish, and though I try to hold them back, I feel hot tears sliding under my glasses and down my cheeks. Jean is back. She's alive. If I had just believed in her, if I hadn't given up on her, she could be mine again...

"Scott, you're crying," she murmured, holding me tightly.

"I've never seen you cry before. It's okay, I understand how you must feel." Her kind, sympathetic words just make it worse. How can she possibly understand, when she doesn't know what I've done?

"Now that we're back together, things will be just like they used to be," she tries to comfort me. But I know things can never be like they used to be.

"Jean..." I keep my left hand behind her, so she can't see yet. "I have to tell you--"

A polite cough interrupts. "I hope I'm not interrupting anything," Warren says. He's always been a master of the dramatic entrance. "How are you two doing?"

"Just wonderfully, Warren! Right, Scott?"

I can't look at either of them. Did Warren time it just to prevent me from telling her?

He comes in the room and I let her go, to turn my back on them both.

"Isn't it great?" Jean asks enthusiastically. "I mean--the three of us all together like this."

I take off my wedding band and stuff it deep in my pocket. Warren answers, "It's more than some of us could have ever hoped for, Jean."

I really don't like the tone of his voice. Is he setting himself up to be her shoulder to cry on, when Jean finds out the big news? He's always been in love with her.

My tone is a little hard as I turn back. "Warren, I am curious about how Jean survived!" My gaze can't help but stray to Jean in wonder. "I mean, I thought you died."

"Well, not exactly, Scott. I'll try to explain it as Doctor Richards did."

"I'm all ears."

So he tells the story of the shuttle and Jean's transformation to the Phoenix. Does he think I don't remember? I curb my impatience, willing to let Warren have his drama, as long as he gets to the point soon.

Jean perches on the arm of the chair, listening avidly, but as if it has nothing to do with her. I lean against the wall, trying not to feel the pain as Warren reminds us all of how she died.

"Her humanity had, in the end, defeated her corrupted power," Warren finishes with a flourish.

Jean sighs. "The poor creature!"

"Why are you people talking like the Phoenix was someone else?" I demand, not bothering to leash my impatience anymore. "I don't under--"

Warren interrupts. "That's why I was giving you the build up, Scott. It's importnant you know exactly what really happened."

"I'm listening."

He goes on to tell an incredible story about how the Avengers rescued a pod of energy off the floor of Jamaica Bay, and Reed Richards opened the pod, releasing Jean. "You see, Scott-- the Phoenix was a separate entity that had perfectly duplicated Jean's body and personality. Too perfectly, since Jean's heroism caused the entity's self-destruction. All this while, Jean was left in the capsule until her extensive injuries healed. The only negative from the whole ordeal, is Jean's loss of her telepathic abilities."

"Oddly enough-- my telekinetic powers have been increased dramatically by the experience," Jean adds.

Thank God for her loss of telepathy. I don't want her to know what I'm thinking. Not now, not ever again. The Phoenix was Jean. Jean was the Phoenix. The theory they have doesn't make any sense. I know who the Phoenix was. I know who died on the moon. Yet, here Jean is, vibrantly alive.

They both look at me to see what I have to say. They both believe it, that much is clear. "It's... simply incredible," is my lame answer. "I-- I'm at a loss for words."

She smiles, as if that's all she needs to know. And her smile makes my heart ache. God, I still love her.

"Now that we've explained my story, I have a few million questions to ask both of you." She goes off on an impassioned speech about the horrible state of mutants right now. She wants to form our own group, some kind of quasi- X-Men team. On this, Warren is just as caught as I am.

Warren speaks first. "It's-- not that cut and dried, Jeannie. You see, I've given up the hero biz. I'm tired of the whole good guy-bad guy routine."

"What!" Jean stares at him as if he's suddenly speaking Swahili. "I don't believe you! How can you turn your back on what's happening outside!?" She turns to me. "Scott, talk some sense into him! You've always been leader of the group! He'll listen to you."

How do I explain to her what's wrong, without telling her everything? The words come in dribs and drabs, shameful and biting.

"Well... I think I know how Warren feels, Jean. I recently tried to take over as leader of the X-Men, but I, uh, couldn't, uh, cut it."

Actually what really happened was that Storm kicked my ass. Maddy hadn't wanted me to even try to come back. "I've... ah... retired, as well, more or less."

My answer satisfies her even less than Warren's. "What is wrong with you?" she demands in dumbfounded amazement. "You actually tried to work with Magneto? The man who was trying to kill us at every turn when we were growing up?"

That wasn't how it was exactly. Magneto never really tried very hard to kill us. And he hadn't even been there for my fight with Ororo. "Well... I..."

She's not even listening to my faltering phrases. "You guys make me sick! What's happened to your commitment to Professor X's dream?"

I don't have time to answer that she happened. I lost my commitment about the same time I watched her blow herself to dust. A reddish psionic glow forms around her head, and I know she's getting ready to do something spectacular. "All I know is--I'm not going to stand around, twiddling my thumbs while our kind is totally wiped from the face of the Earth!"

The outer wall explodes, as the couch impacts it at cannonball velocity, and the sudden hurricane force winds knock over the table. She steps out into the sky, haloed in psionic energy and floats away.

"Jean, wait!" Warren calls after her. "Don't do this!" I watch her disappear into the sun, and I can't breathe. Jean alive. Phoenix was Jean. But she wasn't. And Maddy...

"C'mon Scott! We have to go after her," Warren's voice reaches me from far away. "She's not ready to deal with the outside world yet."

I'm dizzy. Nauseous. "... everything's confused... makes no sense..."

"What's with you?" Warren demands and holds out his arm.

"Grab hold and we'll go after her!"

I shake my head repeatedly. "I... can't! So much..." I push him away, trying to find air. But my gasps don't seem to help the tightness in my chest. "Not right... all screwed up..."

"Well, to hell with you then!" Warren launches himself out the window and I stagger back into the other room.

I've got to get out of here.

Jean's alive.

She was never dead.

In a fog, I go downstairs and just start walking, hoping to lose myself in the crowd. That evening I don't even think about going back. I can't face her.

I can't face any of them. Not Jean, not Maddy.

My shabby hotel room, far off the tourist track, has a lumpy mattress and roaches, but I don't care. I can't sleep anyway. My life has gone from domestic bliss to nightmare in one day. I mourned for something that wasn't really dead. I loved someone who wasn't real. My true love is back and I'm married to someone else, whose life I've already wrecked.

The days blur together. I wander, finding all the little places that I used to go with Jean. I don't intend to go there, but my feet take me there anyway. The sight of each of them is like another nail in my heart. Because I can never have what I want so desperately....

I want that time back. I want that happiness back. I want that joy.

But it can never be. Never again. I've lost Jean again, and this time it's my own stupid fault.

Every morning I go to the place of the beginning of the end. Jamaica Bay. I stand at the end of the pier and watch the sun rise. Golden tendrils of fire caress the dark waters of the bay, reminding me of the Phoenix-effect and of the glowing cocoon of energy the Avengers found under the surface. If I had only waited... Finally, as I always knew they would, I hear the voice of one of my friends calling, "Scott...?"

It's Hank. I don't want to see him. I don't want to talk to him. "Leave me alone, McCoy."

Hank comes closer. "Scotty, we've been looking all over for you. I had a hunch you might be here."

Sarcasm drips from my voice. "You always were the clever one, eh? So... you've found me-- now let me be!"

Bobby chimes in. I should've known he'd come too. "We're your friends, man. We just want to help. What's wrong?"

How can he ask such a stupid question? Does he have no idea what's going on? "My whole fucking life, Drake, that's what's wrong!"

They hesitate to say any more, taken aback by my vehemence. Did they think I could just shrug off Jean's resurrection as "one of those mutant things" and get on with my life? _Nothing_ can ever be as it was.

My voice is softer, as I stare into the sunlit water. "I've just been wandering... to all the old places we used to go as kids. You know the "Coffee Bean" is now a sushi bar?" I quirk a half smile and then have to bite my lip as tears threaten again. "Hank, I'm all torn up inside," I whisper. "Nothing is what I thought it was. My Jean never died."

I feel sick again and barely force the words out, "It was only that- that _thing_!"

It tricked me, that thing. I believed it was Jean. But I should've known. Somehow I should've known. If I'd been smart enough, been half the leader I'm supposed to be, I should've figured it out.

Maybe this Jean is also the Phoenix, and not really Jean either. Maybe it's just waiting for me to love her again, just so it can twist the knife a little deeper.

"I even mourned for Jean... resolved myself--"

I can't do it again. Losing her once ripped me apart. And now, having her back, hurts more than losing her did.

"How can I even face her--" I figure out what my fingers are toying with and I take my ring out of my pocket. I haven't worn it since I saw Jean. "What about Madelyne? How do I explain how I feel to her? How can I tell her any of this?"

My hand clenches around the ring and I'm tempted to throw it in the water. If only my problems could be solved so easily... Hank asks softly, "You're still in love with Jean?"

Oh Lord, yes. I've never stopped loving her. Never for a moment.

"I..." I can't say it. It would make a mockery out of everything else. "I..." But I can't deny it either. Hank slings an arm around me, and it feels good to lean against him. I once was strong, but not anymore.

"Scott," he tells me, "I can't pretend to know what you're feeling. But there is something I do know-- you can't run away from your problems. You can't run away from any of us. We've always been like family, and that hasn't changed."

Doesn't he understand? It's not like I _want_ to run away. "I-- can't face Jean. Not yet." I will talk to her, once I figure out what to say. "I want to be with her," I confess. "Near her, but I'm afraid to tell her the truth. I'm afraid I'll lose her again."

I can't take that. Not again. Not get so close, and lose again. I would rather throw myself in the water right now and drown. Just take the coward's way out...

Maybe they sense my half-formed intention, because Hank's grip tightens and Bobby puts a hand on my elbow.

"My friend, do you honestly think for one moment that Jean would not understand?" Hank demands gently. "She was gone and you simply went ahead with your life. Surely she will not blame you for that."

She wouldn't-- if that's all I'd done. If I hadn't married somebody who looked just like her... if I had waited longer... if I didn't have a child... -- oh God, the baby, what have I done?...

"Scott," Hank goes on, "We have a second chance-- all of us-- to do something beneficial. Like it was in the old days, the five of us together."

Maybe it's because I'm exhausted by two weeks of little sleep, or maybe because I want so desperately for something good to come out of this mess, but Hank's enthusiasm catches something in me. It's very tempting to rejoin my oldest friends in action again.

"I know, Jean was correct about that."

'Correct' is not the same as 'right', but Hank doesn't catch the distinction. I don't think I have enough moral fiber to determine its "rightness." Is is right to defend mutant rights while I leave my baby without a father? I doubt that very much.

"Come back with us," Hank pleads. "We'll work things out, you'll see."

I inhale a deep, shaky breath. "All right. I'll go with you, but..."

"You won't regret it, Scotty!" Bobby says enthusiastically. I don't have the heart to tell him I regret it already. "We'll all be with you-- by your side -- the whole way."

Bobby claps me on the back and the two of them guide me away. Maybe it won't be so bad. I'll go back, help Warren and Jean get their project going, tell Jean the truth, and make my exit.

Yeah, sure.

My plan is nothing more than avoiding the consequences for as long as possible. The moment Jean and Maddy find out about each other, any hope of either is gone. I've lost them both; they just don't know it yet.

Maybe I never really had either of them. Maybe my whole life is nothing but the Phoenix taunting me, taking Jean's form again and again... Maybe Jean resurrected herself as the Phoenix, who resurrected herself as Maddy... Redheads all around me, a herd of redheads with green eyes. Or is it a flock?

A bubble of hysterical laughter forms in the back of my throat but I cut it off. No-- Enough. That way lies madness. Just don't think about it. I'm supposed to be a problem solver, but I see no solutions. No way out. I'm locked in a trap I made for myself, and I can't even chew my own foot off to get free.

I remember the beginning-- I remember as if it were yesterday: Jean sweeping in to the study, her first day at Xavier's. I had never in my life seen anyone more beautiful, more full of life. I fell for her the moment I looked in the fire of her eyes, and her light made me whole again.

Everything comes full circle. What began all those years ago as a moment of joy ends now-- its light turned to darkness, its truth into lies, its fire into ashes.

Leaving me alone.

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