… Jean Grey
The Xavier Mansion was waking up slowly. The golden morning light streamed through the long hallway windows, casting soft shadows across the polished wooden floors. There was a quiet comfort in the air, broken only by distant voices in the kitchen and the lazy footsteps of late students.
Jean walked beside Aidan, and somehow, every step felt more intimate than it should. Her body still ached in very specific places — little reminders of what they had done just hours ago — and again that morning. But what bothered her most… was what they hadn't done.
She felt like she had touched every inch of Aidan's body, tasted every breath, memorized every sound he made. But his mind... still felt like a locked safe — completely sealed off from her.
She could still hear herself — the way she'd cried out, desperate to reach him with her telepathy at the height of pleasure — only to be met with a cold, endless silence.
Jean was one of the most powerful mutants on the planet, but next to him… she felt human. And that was both terrifying and addicting.
As they reached the dormitory floor, she was still trying to collect herself — fix her expression, relax her shoulders, hide any trace of what they'd just done — but then Aidan stopped in front of a familiar door.
"Raven, you awake?"
Jean turned slightly, watching the way he knocked — casual, almost playful. Three light taps, no rush. Like he already knew she'd answer.
"Maybe", came the voice from inside, muffled and dry.
Jean knew that tone. Raven wasn't a morning person. Especially not the kind to answer knock-knock jokes this early. But Aidan doubled down.
"We're heading down for breakfast. Hank made pancakes."
Jean's brows furrowed. That couldn't be true. They hadn't even seen about it… and Hank didn't make pancakes.
"And…" Aidan added, raising his voice just a bit, "I think there's that Colombian blend you like."
Jean shot him a look. That was such a blatant bluff — the kind of lie you'd normally laugh off. But he said it so casually… it almost sounded believable.
And then the door opened. Raven appeared, oversized t-shirt, hair still a mess, eyes barely open. She looked calm, unreadable — but Jean felt it. That quiet tension always humming beneath her surface. Still, what truly made Jean's breath catch... was the look Raven gave her.
Raven looked straight at her — and Jean knew.
Raven knew.
And worse... there was no judgment in her eyes. No anger or jealousy.
Just curiosity.
Jean flushed. Not out of shame for what she'd done — but because she felt… exposed.
Aidan? Unbothered. That same faint smile on his lips, like he didn't notice — or didn't care — about the growing tension between the two women.
"Colombian blend, huh?" Raven murmured, a subtle smirk playing on her lips — like someone calling a bluff at the poker table.
"Worth a shot", he replied, matching her tone.
Raven looked at him, then at Jean, then back at him again… and nodded.
"Alright. Give me five."
Jean watched her disappear back into the room, slow and steady. And in the silence that followed, something shifted in the air. Heavier. Not uncomfortable — just loaded.
Among all the women Aidan flirted with — and there were many — none felt quite as inevitable as Raven.
She was the one he shared silences with. The one who met his gaze just a second too long. The one he didn't need to speak to, but still somehow said everything to. Jean had noticed it before — during training, in passing, even in moments of shared boredom.
And it was obvious. The trust Aidan gave Raven wasn't like with anyone else. It was intimate, effortless, old. Like in a world where he always had to be on guard… she was the exception.
And yet… he hadn't gone as far with Raven as he had with her or Ororo.
Jean thought of her friend, her mentor, and felt that flicker of discomfort return. Not entirely jealousy — though maybe that, too. But more so… a pattern. Ororo, herself. Two powerful and intense women.
Raven… wasn't. Powerful, sure. Jean saw that. But not as intense as they were.
Jean didn't know if that was Raven's choice — or Aidan's. And that uncertainty sat like a grain of sand stuck in the eye of her mind.
Jean exhaled.
"She knows", she said quietly.
Aidan turned his head slightly.
"I figured. She's got that look— like she already knows everything before you open your mouth. And we're not exactly being subtle."
"And you… you're not gonna say anything?"
He gave a lazy half-smile.
"Why would I?"
Jean studied him. Wanted to read him, reach him — but just like always…
There it was again.
That invisible wall where all her powers died.
And as much as it infuriated her… she couldn't stop getting closer.
The scent of coffee, toast, and murmured conversation drifted from downstairs. Jean glanced toward Raven's room over her shoulder.
And she knew — with quiet certainty — that when Raven was ready…
Everything would change.
She just didn't know for who.
…
The Xavier Mansion's dining hall was usually a kind of refuge.
A space where everything felt casual — students talking with their mouths full, teachers chatting between sips of coffee, the constant clatter of dishes, laughter, and the smell of food made with more love than skill by Hank and Kurt.
Jean always felt at ease there. Until today.
The moment she stepped through the doorway with Aidan beside her, she felt it. The air shifted. Subtle, like walking into a heated room after being out in the cold. The conversations didn't stop… but they got quieter.
A stretched-out second of silence. One less breath. One more stare.
She wasn't the type to fall into paranoia. Her mind was too sharp, too trained to filter the world with telepathic precision — even when she wasn't actively reading thoughts. And still… she didn't need her powers.
She felt the eyes. Felt the shift in posture around her. Felt the rhythm of the room adjusting to her presence.
She, Aidan, and Raven didn't just enter the dining room — they changed it. Turned the page. And now everyone was reading.
Jean kept her head high. Her steps graceful, controlled. But there was something in the way she walked — a tightness in her spine, a subtle clench in her fingers as she reached for a cup — that gave away the effort.
She could still hear the sounds from last night. Feel his hands on her body. The marks hidden beneath her clothes. And now… she wore it like a scent only the perceptive could detect.
The first to notice — or at least, the first to show it — was Ororo. Sitting at the central table, sipping her drink, face serene. But her eyes… her eyes said everything.
There was no judgment in them. But there was something sharp. A recognition.
Jean met the gaze for half a second. Just enough to feel the weight in those blue eyes. Ororo was looking at her like someone who'd been there. Someone who knew the taste, the heat, the weight of Aidan's body against skin.
Not like a rival.
Like a veteran.
Jean looked away first. Swallowed hard.
Then came Rogue. She sat at another table, next to Kitty, coffee mug forgotten in her hands. Eyes locked, unblinking.
This… was different.
Rogue tried to look unfazed, but Jean knew her. Knew that blank expression was a shield. And more than that… Jean knew Rogue's pain wasn't jealousy.
Rogue had touched Aidan. Actually touched him. The one thing she thought she could never do — real contact, without hurting anyone.
And now she knew Jean had touched him too. And more. So much more.
Jean dropped her eyes for a second — a reflex of empathy. But Rogue didn't look away.
And then… there was Scott.
He wasn't seated. He stood off to the side, leaning against the far wall, arms crossed over his chest, visor dark and reflecting the morning light.
His jaw was clenched. Muscles twitching. He didn't say a word — but his body said everything.
Jean felt her stomach knot. Not out of guilt — she had made her choice. But out of exhaustion.
Scott had always been there, a walking reminder of who she was expected to be.
The ideal partner. The perfect mutant. The woman balanced between power and reason.
But the Jean from this morning? She was a mess — inside. Undone in ways he'd never understand. And she… didn't want to go back.
His gaze met hers for a moment, and even without reading his thoughts, she felt the disappointment. The bruised pride. The fear.
She inhaled deeply… and walked past him.
No apologies or any words.
But the strongest gaze — the one that cut deepest — was still ahead.
Charles Xavier, seated at the head of the table. Hands folded. A cup of tea in front of him, untouched. He didn't smile, didn't frown or say a word. But his eyes… Those eyes were reading. Measuring. Seeing more than she wanted anyone to see.
Jean felt a chill crawl across her skin. Not fear, for discomfort.
Because Charles always saw her as the heir. The woman who was supposed to hold the world up without letting it burn her.
And now… she wasn't that. Now she was just Jean. A woman who had moaned, cried, screamed, and begged in Aidan's bed.
And part of her was terrified that Charles knew. And another part hoped he did — just so people would finally stop expecting her to carry a perfection she never asked for.
Jean sat next to Aidan. Raven took the seat on his other side — quiet, but alert.
And in that moment, with her coffee cooling in front of her, the murmur of conversation slowly returning, and the weight of every stare pressing down on her shoulders…
Jean knew.
Today would be hard and maybe… the beginning of something even harder.
Because the world around them was starting to understand: Jean Grey had changed.
And she had no intention of going back.
… Aidan Quinn
Nothing like breakfast served with a side of tension instead of butter.
While silverware clinked against plates and conversations pretended to be normal, I could feel the waves of unspoken energy building around me. Jean, sitting next to me, was quiet — but definitely not neutral. Her green eyes moved from face to face, reaction to reaction, like each glance held secrets ready to unravel.
Across from us, Raven was the same as always: steady, silent, watchful. My partner. The only one in this minefield of emotions and egos who didn't need to speak to keep pace with me.
I ignored the tension. On purpose. I smiled. Chatted. Acted like I didn't feel the storm brewing in the room.
Bobby cracked a joke about "supernatural seismic activity" in the Danger Room. I fired back that maybe he should try warming someone up besides himself before talking about seismic anything. We both laughed. Even Jubilee chuckled. Kurt threw in a terrible pun about "spatial collapses and emotional ones." All while I finished my second waffle.
But the blade always comes from the same place — the guy wearing sunglasses indoors.
"Quinn", Scott said, firm voice. Not a casual callout. A veiled accusation.
I looked up. He stood a few feet away from the end of the table, back straight, chin up, muscles tense beneath that perfectly pressed shirt.
Golden boy himself.
"Heard about the mess you made yesterday in the Danger Room."
No smirk, no sarcasm. The line was delivered with the surgical calm of someone trying to look rational — but it dripped with barely-contained irritation. Jean didn't move. Raven set her mug down on her plate but kept watching him with her usual controlled neutrality. Logan raised an eyebrow. Rogue bit her lower lip.
"Mess?" I echoed with playful disdain. "You mean the local phenomenon of automatic Danger Room reconstruction? The simulation that broke down?" I tilted my head. "Oh… that mess."
Scott didn't react. Of course not. Not in front of everyone.
"I'm suggesting a match. Just us", he said, like it was the most reasonable thing in the world. "A direct spar."
Ah. So that's what this was.
Not a training session or a technique exchange. A pissing contest.
I took a breath and leaned back, wiping my fingers on a napkin.
"Would that be… with or without powers?"
The question dropped like a blade — and everyone felt the cut.
Scott hesitated for the slightest second, but it was there.
And that was all I needed.
I leaned forward, my words dripping with sweet poison.
"Because if we're using powers, Scott… honestly? I don't see how you'd even lay a finger on me."
The reaction was instant. Jubilee's eyes went wide, Bobby let out a muffled "whoa", Logan bit into his sandwich without blinking, Jean stayed still — but her lips twitched, just slightly. Rogue looked at me like she wanted to both slap me and kiss me. Kurt muttered a low "mein Gott" before clearing his throat and Raven… Raven looked straight at Xavier.
She knew what was coming. So did I.
Because that's when the king decided to step in.
The wheelchair rolled forward with perfect timing to the end of the table. Charles Xavier leaned in slightly, expression calm, voice smooth, deep — almost fatherly.
"Perhaps… a direct match isn't ideal right now", he said. "We have students present. And certain… energies building."
He paused.
"A group simulation match, in a controlled environment, would be more appropriate."
Translation: We're not letting you humiliate our golden boy in public.
Scott clenched his fists — barely, but enough.
He got the subtext too.
This wasn't about safety. It was about protection.
Xavier wasn't going to let the poster boy — the role model, the hero — get dropped by the new guy no one could read.
Classic institutional shield.
"Of course", I replied with a smile. "Whatever you think is best, Professor. I'm here to cooperate."
My tone sounded respectful and cooperative, but inside? I'd already won.
Because even if the fight never happened…
Everyone at that table was already playing it out in their heads — and no one, no one, pictured Scott winning.
The game had begun, and I didn't have to fight him to beat him.
I just had to be inevitable.
…
The Danger Room was already active when we stepped in.
The city surrounding us was a digital monument to decay: a metallic sky tinted red, thick clouds hanging like slabs of dead meat, suspended by invisible hooks. Buildings broken at impossible angles, shattered windows reflecting nothing but smoke. Streetlamps knocked over, sparking like they were still trying to light up a world that had long since gone dark.
It was a post-something setting. Didn't matter what. What mattered was that it was ruined. The smell was fake, but convincing — burnt ozone, wet concrete, demolition dust. Distant sirens, helicopters frozen in sound — like echoes of panic stuck on repeat.
At the center of the chaos stood a tower. Tall, solid, surrounded by debris. At the top, an amber core pulsed like a machine's heart — slow, stubborn, almost alive.
The perfect war zone.
Xavier's voice came through our comms with the calm of someone who'd seen too many people lose their heads in this place.
"Your target is the core in the power tower. Your team must capture and hold for five minutes. Good luck."
Scott, predictably, was the first to move.
"Bobby, with me. Kurt, high ground. Kitty, flank the side. Evan, hold the rear."
Clear voice, straight posture. Calculated down to the tone. His picks moved without hesitation. Old training. Muscle memory. They already knew their roles, and Scott knew what to expect from each of them.
Only one piece left.
He didn't call her. Just turned his head and waited.
Because of course, he thought she'd follow. Like always.
But she didn't move. For a few seconds, the air felt heavier, like the simulation itself held its breath. Then she walked— not toward him, but to me. Calm steps and stopped at my side.
"I'm fighting with him," she said.
Simple and sharp.
The reactions were subtle, but loud. Bobby looked away, Kurt hesitated, and Evan let out a short, dry laugh— "seriously?"
Scott… well, his clenched jaw said what his mouth wouldn't.
Jean didn't look back.
And that made it even more obvious— what I'd known all along.
This wasn't training anymore. This was payback.
Between them.
"Hmph", Rogue joined right after, like she wasn't about to miss this episode. She stood next to Jean, arms crossed, smirking. "If we're dealing with oversized egos, count me in."
I raised an eyebrow, glancing at her. "Thought you liked keeping your distance from drama."
"This isn't drama," she said. "It's entertainment and I prefer a front-row seat."
Jean smiled — subtle, but there.
Then came Jubilee, nearly tripping over her own feet like it was part of the act.
"Y'all aren't seriously leaving the explosive girl out, are you?" she said, giving me a wink. "I wanna blow something up."
"Literally or metaphorically?"
"Surprise", she said with a snap of her fingers.
And just when I thought the spontaneous lineup was done…
An unexpected voice.
"I'm in too."
I turned— Raven was already at my side. Like she'd been there the whole time.
"You?" I asked, genuinely surprised. She wasn't the type to join this kind of theater. Raven was all utility, no spectacle. Action without an audience.
That's why I hadn't even considered her. Also… she was too big a heavyweight for the current X-Men.
"Someone has to save your ass if it goes sideways", she said, dry.
I laughed, the words came to my mouth before I thought of them.
"Nah, I'd win."
She stared at me for a second, then two. "Not if I decide you shouldn't."
"Did I hit a nerve?"
"Touch and find out."
Jean watched us quietly. No jealousy— just recognition.
Raven was the cold shadow and Jean was the quiet fire.
And I was the idiot standing between them.
Rogue scoffed, breaking the tension.
"If this is turning into a reality show, at least we're bringing ratings."
Team assembled. The sim lights flashed red. Above the tower, a timer appeared: 00:30
Thirty seconds.
The fake scent of destruction burned in the air like adrenaline.
And yeah — that grin came easy.
"We're gonna have a real good time, aren't we?"