"Annnd — now!" Felicia snapped her fingers, her focus tight and obvious. Her form shimmered, and in the place of the green-eyed, silver-haired blonde was a brunette with bright blue eyes and a scattering of freckles across her face.
Wanda frowned. "Not bad... but you still look like yourself. The coloring changed, that's all."
"Uh, excuse me! Can't you see?" Felicia pointed to her cheeks. "I added freckles!"
Wanda groaned, rolling her eyes. "You ponce." She snapped her own fingers. A sheen of pale light swept over her form and in her place stood a blonde woman with blue eyes who looked meaningfully older than Wanda — rounder face, stress lines etched deep around her eyes and mouth. Thoroughly convincing. Thoroughly unlike herself.
Jean whistled. "That's very good, Wanda. You look entirely real."
"Thank you, love," Wanda said in a British accent so strained it physically hurt to listen to.
I winced. "Drop the accent. Please."
Wanda raised an eyebrow. "Really? Fine." The accent vanished. "Better?"
"Much. Jean? Your turn."
"Don't mind if I do." Jean closed her eyes and settled into focus. I watched her carefully — she had made a full physical recovery within a few hours, and while she showed no outward signs of the Phoenix asserting itself, the worry hadn't left me.
Jean snapped her fingers and shimmered. In her place stood a girl with a short pixie cut of raven-black hair, noticeably slimmer, with the jade of Jean's eyes now a flat, unremarkable brown. She looked nothing like herself.
I smiled. "I like the hair."
"Thanks," Jean smiled back, reaching up to touch the dark strands. "Your turn."
I nodded. A quick snap and a mental call of the relevant spell, and my form shimmered. In my place stood a slightly larger man with dark skin, black hair, and startlingly bright blue eyes — a jarring paradox I was hoping would draw enough attention to itself that no one would think to look past it.
"Not bad, Spider," Wanda whistled. "How long can everyone hold it?"
"Few hours," I shrugged.
"Same," Jean nodded.
"I should manage, as long as we're not doing anything too strenuous," Felicia said, sounding less than thrilled about that caveat.
Wanda nodded. "Then I suppose we are as ready as we are going to be."
"So what are we waiting for?" Felicia asked with a bright grin. "Let's go and have some fun!"
Jean chuckled. "Someone's eager."
"It's too late in the day now," I said, glancing at the window — the sun was already sinking. "We'll go tomorrow, with a proper plan."
"But — argh!" Felicia groaned and dropped her head back. "Fine. Whatever. I'm going to my room to research London attractions. Maybe we can find a bar to sneak into."
Jean rolled her eyes. "You do remember what happened the last time we all went drinking together, right?"
I nodded, absolutely sincerely. "Damn right I do. Or as I prefer to call it: the Best Night of My Entire Life."
Wanda dropped her illusion and sighed, deeply. "I'm going to guess it involved sex. Actually — don't tell me. You all got drunk and ended up in bed together, didn't you."
Felicia dropped her illusion and shrugged. "It was Jean's birthday. Peter and I were more or less together at the time. And then the fiery redhead over there had some very creative ideas about how to continue the evening, and next thing I know we're in her room, and — well."
I grinned. "Like I said. Best night of my life."
Wanda groaned. "Right. I'll be in the library. If you three are planning a repeat performance, please, at the very minimum, put up a silencing ward."
Jean let out a quiet laugh and dropped her illusion too. "We'll do our very best to be considerate, Wanda."
"Jean," I said, "can we talk? Down in my lab — I'd like to run a quick check-up."
Jean groaned, and then, reading my mood, her expression shifted. She looked at me properly. "Peter... what's wrong?"
I sighed. "After what happened today, I just want to be sure. That's all."
Jean held my gaze for a moment, looking worried — but she nodded. "Yeah. Of course. Let's go."
"Night, you two," Felicia called as she disappeared toward her room. "Try not to have too much fun without me."
I rolled my eyes. She was absolutely never going to change.
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Jean followed me down to the lab. I had her sit on the metal examination table while I moved through the room, attaching monitoring cables and bringing the read-outs up on my screens.
From the outside, everything looked fine. Better than fine, actually. Her theta wave output had tripled since I last measured it — she was stronger than she had ever been.
Which was precisely why I was worried.
"Peter." Jean turned toward me, sitting up straighter. "You've been carrying something all day. What is it? What's actually going on?"
I wanted to lie. I wanted to say everything was fine, smile and change the subject. But I couldn't lie to her. I didn't want to.
"Jean," I said softly. I pulled a chair up beside her, sat down, and looked into her bright green eyes. "There's something I need to tell you."
Jean reached out and took both my hands in hers. "Whatever it is — I can handle it, Peter."
I smiled. "I know." I took a breath. "Do you remember when I told you about other dimensions? Other worlds with versions of us who went through different things?"
"Yes."
"In one of those worlds..." I paused. "You die."
Jean's expression didn't change immediately. Then she smiled — gently, patiently. "Peter, it's the multiverse. I'm sure there are worlds where I die. There are probably worlds where you're dead too — you've said so yourself."
"I know." I tightened my grip on her hands. "But I don't mean just one world, Jean. I mean almost all of them. And when Hope and the others came... they told me it's going to happen here, too."
Her eyes widened. "H-how?"
"It's called the Phoenix," I said, barely above a whisper. "In almost every version of the multiverse I know, you either die because of it, or die from it — and I cannot. I will not let that happen to you." I leaned closer. "Do you remember what happened when we went into my mindscape? When we were trying to control my powers? Do you remember what you did?"
Jean's brow furrowed. "I... pushed something back. The lightning, I think. Did I do that?"
"Yes, Jean. You protected us. You saved us." I watched her carefully. "And do you remember how?"
"I... were there flames?" she asked, uncertain.
"Yes. And that is the first sign — that the Phoenix is beginning to wake up inside you. The first expression of your true potential."
Jean's breath caught. "My true power?"
"In nearly every version of the multiverse I've encountered, Jean Grey is either a conduit for the Phoenix Force or the Phoenix itself. In some worlds it's a cosmic force — the avatar of life and rebirth, immense and alive. In others, it manifests on a smaller scale, but it is never harmless. And from what Hope told me, in our world, we're dealing with the cosmic version."
Jean was quiet for a moment. Then: "So... am I the Phoenix? Is the Phoenix me? Peter, I don't understand."
I held her hands more firmly and shifted to face her properly. "I don't have all the answers. But what I do understand is this — you are a conduit for it. You have the potential to become its host. But you are not it, Jean. Not yet. You are still you." I met her eyes. "And if I have any say in this, that is how it is going to stay."
Jean looked at me for a long moment. "Peter... how long have you known?"
"Since the moment we met."
Her eyes hardened. "And you didn't tell me."
"Jean—"
"You didn't think to say something?"
"Jean." I kept my voice steady. "You said it yourself just now — different worlds. I didn't want to believe it would happen here. I didn't want to face the idea of losing you." My voice dropped. "And I need to ask you honestly — if I had told you all of this the day we met, would you have believed me?"
Jean looked at me for a long, searching moment. Then something in her posture changed — not softer, but resigned. "You stupid man," she said quietly. "Of course I would have." A pause. "But, Peter — how do you know all of this? You weren't a sorcerer when we met. Did you already know about the multiverse back then?"
I sighed.
And there it was. The real question. The one I had always known was coming.
"Jean," I said carefully, "the reason I know is because I — I !%^ !$##! saw it !$#! !"
Jean narrowed her eyes. "You saw it? How?"
I stared at her.
"What?" she asked.
"...What did you just say?"
Jean groaned. "I said 'you saw it.' Didn't you? I couldn't quite make out the rest, but—"
My heart stopped. And then it started again twice as fast.
She heard me. She actually heard part of it.
I was stunned. In every previous attempt, the full sentence had been erased — every word blurred, every meaning scrubbed clean before it could land. But this time she had caught the tail end of it. She had heard something.
And I knew why. Hope had heard me too. I had assumed it was because she was my daughter — but maybe the connection ran through Jean. The Phoenix. Because of the Phoenix, Jean could hear me in a way no one else could. Because of it, the veil that hid the truth from everyone around me was thinner for her than anyone else.
Which meant...
I could tell her. I could actually tell her the truth.
There had always been a part of myself I could never share — a piece locked away where no one could reach it, no matter how much I wanted to open it. And now, with Jean sitting here in front of me, maybe I finally could.
"Jean," I said, lifting her hands and pressing them to my lips. "There is a side of me that I have wanted to share with you — with all of you — for a long time. Secrets I would give anything to be able to explain properly." I glanced at her. "Do you remember the Dark Tower? In my mind?"
"Yes — I tried to scan it once, when I first arrived. Tried to understand why you believed it could contain the lightning. I couldn't make sense of it."
"That's because it holds the things I want to share. The things I've never been able to say. Every time I've tried, the words get swallowed up — you don't hear them, or they come out jumbled, and the whole conversation just disappears like it never happened." I exhaled slowly. "But now... now there's a chance I can finally show you."
Something lifted from me as I said it. Physically — I felt lighter, like a weight I had carried for so long I had forgotten the shape of it was finally gone. I slumped forward with the relief of it. Jean's hand came to the back of my head and she drew me gently toward her, letting me rest my head in her lap, her fingers moving softly through my hair.
"Peter," she said quietly, "whatever it is you can't tell me — does it matter? Will it change how I feel about you?"
I looked up at her. "I hope not."
"Does it change how you feel about me?"
"No," I said, without a single pause between the question and the answer.
Jean smiled — the kind of smile that reached all the way in. "Then it doesn't matter, Peter. I love you. And whatever this power inside me is — I will learn to face it. To hold onto myself through it."
"It can't be fought the way you're thinking," I whispered. "It can't simply be controlled by force. So many others have tried and died because of it."
"Have any of those other versions of Jean Grey had you as their partner?" she asked, with a small and entirely deliberate smirk.
I smiled, and felt the weight ease further. "No."
Jean leaned down and kissed me — warmth spreading through me from the crown of my head to the soles of my feet. When she pulled back she was still smiling. "Then I intend to be the first one to win. And with you and Felicia at my side, I genuinely don't see how I can lose."
I smiled back and let myself believe it, just for a moment. "I love you too." I got to my feet. "Come on — we should get some sleep. Felicia is going to wake us all up at dawn if we let her."
Jean laughed and pushed herself off the table. "She absolutely will." She took my hand as we walked out. "So tell me, Peter — all these other Jean Greys you've seen across the multiverse. Are any of them more attractive than me?"
"Are you kidding? You're the best-looking one in the entire multiverse. Although..." I let the pause stretch just enough. "There is one version with short hair and a latex fetish. She's a close second."
Jean's expression was very patient. "You are very lucky that I love you, Mr. Parker. Any other woman would have left you in that lab."
"In my defense — technically, it's still you. Does it even count if it's the same person?"
"It would be rather like having a twin, I suppose."
"Hm. A twin." I let the possibilities turn over in my head. "Actually, that's a fascinating concept—"
*Smack.*
Jean hit me upside the head. "Don't even start."
"Hey! You were in my head, that's cheating."
"I didn't read your mind. That smile told me everything I needed to know."
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The Next Day:
"I cannot believe you woke us up at six in the morning," Wanda grumbled, rubbing the sleep out of her eyes.
Felicia chuckled and tightened her grip on my arm, practically skipping along the pavement as we stepped out of the sanctum. "Don't care! Today is going to be amazing! I've had it all planned since last night!"
"Six is still unreasonable."
"Whatever," Felicia snorted cheerfully, turning to me with a grin that could power the city. "You are going to love this. I promise."
I smiled back. "If you're sure." I glanced at the entrance to the Underground at the end of the road. "How are we getting there, then?"
Felicia turned and gestured at it like she was revealing a prize. "We are in London — so the Tube, obviously!"
"You know, since we are in London we should probably use the local terminology," Jean said from my other arm.
"Tube," I huffed. "Terrible name. Sounds like a drainage pipe. Subway is so much better."
Wanda raised an eyebrow. "Right — it doesn't sound anything like a sandwich shop. Not at all."
The four of us laughed as Felicia led the way down to the station. Our disguises were up and locked in, and Felicia was practically vibrating with barely contained energy. It was the first time we had left the sanctum in a month — and for someone as naturally social and outward as Felicia Hardy, that had been a particular kind of torture.
"First stop — the London Eye!" Felicia announced as the train pulled away from the platform. She pressed herself toward the window, watching the stations blur past with pure childlike delight.
I leaned over and pressed a kiss to her forehead. "I'm glad we're doing this, Kitten."
She looked up at me and her smile shifted into something quieter, something real. "This isn't a bad life, you know."
"What — running for our lives and hiding underneath a magical disguise?" Wanda said dryly. "Yes, idyllic."
"But we're free," Felicia shrugged simply. "That's more than most people have."
I nodded. "You're right. It really isn't that bad." I looked at both of them — Jean tucked against my side, Felicia wrapped around my arm. "And I'm grateful you're both here with me." A beat. "You're fine too, Wanda."
"Bite me," the witch muttered — though without any real heat behind it.