Don't Close Your Eyes: Epilogue

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One more casualty.



The mass of redhot barbed wire writhing around Jean's mind exploded.

The woman's eyes snapped open. Jim jerked back, cringing away from the psychic shrapnel -- and that was what it felt like, rusted shards of metal, unidentifiable debris, and something that felt horrifically like blood pelting his shields.

He started to ask Charles what had happened, but realized the man's attention was still focused on Jean. The younger man took a deep breath and joined him, reaching out to feel . . .

Nothing. The foreign interference was gone. What remained behind was Jean -- Jean on her guard, yes, with defenses pulled so high they betrayed not even a flicker of what may be going on beneath, but Jean.

It should have been a relief, but it wasn't. Jim could sense an unease from the professor that echoed his own. In that instant the intruding presence had been expelled, Jean's defenses had opened long enough to expose what lay beneath -- and one look at his father's face told him Charles had seen the same thing.

Ruin. A core torn and bleeding, as if hundreds of barbed hooks had been ripped from living flesh.

The two telepaths met each other's gaze. Between them, with eyes dark and dull as the sky before a storm, Jean Grey-Summers stared at nothing.

***




Garrison, Vanessa, Hank, and Kurt return to the DR to be apprised of the situation. The news is not as good as hoped.



The professor hadn't yet satisfied himself, still attempting to find some chink in the wall, but Jim suspected it was now from obstinance rather than any true hope. Jim had ceased his probes when he'd realized there was nothing to be done. Even if Charles wasn't yet ready to relent, the man must already have come to the same conclusions.

People were drifting around the Danger Room, checking on their friends or speaking softly about what to do next, but the area around Jean's still form was an island of silence. The respite was welcome. For now the telepath could simply sit, eyes closed and throbbing head pressed into his hands. Feeling the gentle ebb of Charles' mind and work. Listening to the murmur of voices and the movement of bodies. Waiting. Just waiting.

"Well, I think we won the fight. Damnedest thing - the guy just keeled over. I feel cheated. After getting rammed through a private nightmare, I was looking forward to a little bit of percussive therapy on someone's forehead." Kane said, as the doors slid open and he walked in next to Vanessa.

"It was pretty anti-climatic," the metamorph agreed, a small frown on her face. "I was looking forward to him being beaten to a pulp and maybe dragged off by his thumbs, but no. We didn't even get a decently broken bone on him first." Which left her twitchy, of course. Vanessa wanted a decent fight to displace all her anger and annoyance and frustration with this whole damn situation.

Jim had lifted his head to look at the two, though he couldn't muster the energy to get up. "Yeah," he said, massaging his forehead. "He was being at least partially controlled -- we felt the puppetmaster get his strings cut a little while ago."

An eyebrow raised at that. "The puppeteer got kicked out of the playground so he...killed big, bald and ugly for us? Probably so we couldn't use him to track back to the nice fellow easily. Pity that."

"There's still ways to track this guy. And since he decided to trap me into the dreams of a friend as opposed to some helplessly depraved co-ed that I've no ties to, I've got a damn good reason to find him." Garrison huffed, crossing his arms over his broad chest. "Any change in Jean's condition?"

Hank, his armed draped around his fellow blue mutant, supported his friend to a cot as they entered the danger room. "The bomb has been taken care of," he grumbled, helping Kurt onto a makeshift bench. "What's the sitrep?"

Kurt sat down with quiet obedience, looking around at the others tiredly. "Yes, how is everyone?"

"In here? Stable. Not being in danger of blowing up is a plus." The telepath raked a hand through his hair, barely glancing at the two newcomers. He nodded towards Jean. "Matthews -- the one it looks like started all this, I mean -- is out of the picture. I'm not sure yet, but from the way his influence dissipated when she threw him out I think it was part of her power he was using to affect everyone. Parasitizing her." There was the faintest suggestion of heat in his voice as he added, "Jean took care of the infestation."

Hank wandered over to Jean, taking her wrist to check her pulse before running through a series of stimuli tests- careful not to interrupt Charles' equally important work. Frowning, the blue doctor went over to one of the danger room walls and pried the panel off using bestial strength. Behind it, he removed several portable first responders kits, wrapped in plastic. "How long has she been like this?" he asked in general, opening the plastic and rummaging through the supplies, preparing himself for triage.

Jim's eyes flicked over to Hank. "Since she expelled Matthews. Even psychically, we can't get a response out of her."

"She's stable though, which is more than can be said for some others," Hank took a suture kit from the bag and hurried to Kurt side, his hands moving quickly to sop the tide of blood coming from the claw marks marring his friend's face. "I could use a hand over here if anyone has one to lend."

"Vanessa, can you give Hank a hand? I need to make a phone call here." Kane fished out his phone. "Professor, I'm going to give SHIELD a call. I'm going to get some of the others to help me move them up into the lobby to wait for them to send a secure transport. What do you want me to tell them about the guy who put all this together? Do we even have a location for him?"

For the first time since they'd begun talking, Charles stirred. Taking a long breath, he blinked slowly and looked up at the group looking at him with expectation.

"She's gone," he said at last. "I can't reach her, no matter how hard I try." His head lowered, his shoulders sagged with fatigue and for the first time, many of them saw the Professor as a man defeated. Too many losses, too many casualties - it was hard not to look to the small shape covered with a sheet lying completely still on the floor.

Then Charles raised his head again, and this time his voice was firm - tired, but holding that note of command that they'd come to recognize: "Garrison, if you please, inform SHIELD that we are gathering what information we can on the mastermind behind this attack and we will be contacting them with what we know. Take those X-Men who are able to assist you in escorting our attackers upstairs and ensure they cannot escape. Hank, Vanessa, if you could tend to the wounded and see that they are comfortable. David, the remaining Stepford sisters will need psychic triage to help them cope with their loss. Those remaining who are mobile will see to securing the building and ensuring everyone is safe."

He looked down at Jean's still face again and sighed as he reached out and brushed a lock of hair away from her face. "Jean, it's up to you, now. Come back to us. Please."