Envisionings (2nd Edition) Part 2☄️🔄

The following day.

Jean comes down a hallway to see the same First Nations girl we saw in Storm's Environmental Studies class now watching her with polite interest.

Jean greets her warmly. "Hello."

"Hi."

"I have the feeling there's something specific on your mind?" She's paused in front of her.

The girl smiles. "You could just tell without asking, couldn't you?"

"Yes, but I prefer to ask."

The girl seems to like that. "Did you really go to space, by yourself? I mean..."

she thinks of the correct question. "By your own powers?"

"Sort of." Jean seems reluctant to say more on this subject.

"What was it like out there?"

It's now Jean considering a correct answer.

"A lot of it. . .it would be hard to describe. And likely unbelievable."

"I have a good imagination." Smiling anew, the girl allows a projection to form above her head. It's an outdoor scene, with all the living things appearing at once familiar and other-worldly.

Jean watches the imagining for a moment, smiling herself. "I can see that. So you must be Holo."

The imagining disappears as the girl is surprised, though her expression soon turns to reflect self-awareness: "You've already heard about me?"

"About some of the new students."

"Yeah. . .I tend to leave impressions. I don't mean to mostly, but I also don't mind. Mostly." She laughs a little. Then, seeing she still has Jean's attention, she resumes her projected imagining of outer worlds.

Jean returns to that conversation: "If I'm being honest, since I've come back a lot of what I experienced out there feels. . .more like a dream than a part of this life. Not quite, though."

"Dreams are kind of like going out to other existences," Holo answers thoughtfully.

Gradually, the imagery evolves --no longer just above Holo's head, it seems to surround her and Jean, blending in a grotesque way with the hall. In fact, it's as though we're seeing this part of the Mansion through a kaleidoscope, yet with differences to the reflected image; more or less subtle depending on the section.

Jean closes her eyes. "That's a bit much now, Holo."

Holo: "Hm?"

Opening her eyes, Jean manages to discern the scenescape above Holo's head fading, though the distorted imagery remains. She squints, trying to bring the hall into correct focus

--then suddenly, it is.

"Dr. Grey?"

Her eyes still on the hall, Jean clarifies: "That wasn't all you?"

"Uhm. . ." Holo looks where Jean seems to be. "I was only focusing on the one spot. . . I guess I might've spilled out." She doesn't seem sure what Jean's referring to.

Jean shakes her head after a moment. "I think I'm having a case of intergalactic jet leg."

This makes Holo laugh again.

Jean: "I'll see you around."

Holo nods, happily watching Jean go.

While Jean's expression, obscured from Holo's view as she passes her, reflects puzzlement and concern; Jean's eyes shifting as she continues, as if watching for the halls to distort again. They don't in the least.

No time to give further thought to this, Jean has a meeting to get to.

We're back in the Staff Room, this time joined by one more individual.

Xavier: "I feel the need to reintroduce you to someone.

Jean, this is Dr. Henry McCoy."

Hank extends a large, blue-furred hand: "As last we knew each other was pre-acquisition of my hirsute, savoy patina, I would agree with Charles."

Jean smiles: "You should've let me guess. I would've known it was you as soon as you spoke."

Hank's smile broadens: "'One superlatively important effect of wide reading is the enlargement of vocabulary which always accompanies it' -H.P. Lovecraft."

Jean's smile deepens. "It's great to see you here again, Hank. I'm glad you'll be joining us for this."

"On that, by all means, let us commence." He takes his seat around the long table.

Jean begins hesitantly -not out of lack of confidence on what she's saying, but the intricacies and personalness of the subject matter- casting a reverential look to Xavier: "This school has always served its purpose well, providing young mutants a place to gain a general education while they come into their mutant identities, safely and away from judgement, and ultimately affording them a choice of what kind of life they want to live."

Xavier nods in reception of her feelings.

"Though that can only take them so far in a world that still necessitates anonymity. What's waiting for our students beyond these walls continues to be discrimination, and with seemingly few exceptions it's only us mutants who seem interested in building an equal life. I couldn't keep to only witnessing this. . ."

Jean's eyes close as she figuratively travels back to the unbelievable space she's been: "As Phoenix, I saw many existences and co-existences. . .And if there's anything to learn from the universe it's how there's still so much for us to collectively learn as people." She opens her eyes, "it doesn't take power like the Phoenix to make change. It's as you've always known, Professor, it takes education. We need to continue -to broaden digging up future issues before they take seed. Hatred runs deep. But it's taught, no one is born with it. I think we need to take steps to directly foster compassion and eventually comradery in the younger generation of non-mutants."

Hank: "'If we are to teach real peace in this world, and if we are to carry on a real war against war, we shall have to begin with the children' -Mahatma Gandhi."

A soft smile crosses Jean's lips. "Maybe I should've lead with that."

Storm: "Indeed it is a noble idea. What steps do you propose, Jean?"

Jean: "Actually I was hoping for suggestions."

Scott: "How about a camp? We could operate it under an even ratio format by having as many of our students attend as non-mutants sign up."

Storm: "I like that too, though cannot see many parents wanting to sign their kids up for a couple weeks with mutants."

"Well, we wouldn't advertise it so explicitly."

Jean: "I don't know, Scott. It's the right idea but it can't come off as deceptive."

Scott: "In general brochures don't state the type of campers that'll be there unless the camps are made for a specific demographic. Kids signed up for any camp could find themselves interacting with mutants, the difference with ours is it'll be by design and we'll actually care that those interactions are positive."

And so the meeting continues. On its close, as everyone is filing out, Jean pauses, taken over by another strange sensation.

This time she sees no distortion, though the clarity of her vision is more dream-like; the edges of the room blurred, the room itself not so clear. Voices coming to her ears as though Jean's not as present as they are --or are they coming from another place?

Jean brings her fingers to the side of her head. Far off as they sound, the voices aren't foreign. Beast, Iceman, Cyclops. . .that tracks. . .

"Jean?. .Jean?"

She finds Scott standing in front of her.

"Sorry, were you saying something?"

"No. I noticed you weren't with us. Are you okay?"

". . .It's just a lot, I guess."

He looks at her sympathetically: "I'm sure it is."

They both seem unsure. Unsure regarding this present moment and for their own, additional reasons.

Jean lowers her hand, finding an explanation: "I didn't get much sleep last night. I can't even remember if I've eaten anything."

"You did. At least I'm pretty sure. You came late to lunch but I saw you getting something."

"That's right. I saw you too, before you had to go. . ." Their unsurety persists. "It's been strange," Jean confides. "I'm having to readjust to things I didn't even think about -sleep, hunger. Even time."

Scott's brows raise like he hadn't thought of that. He keeps focused on Jean with a listening look.

"I know I should try and resist, to get back to a regular schedule, but I think I'll go see if I can catch up on some rest."

"Oh-" there's something in the way he responds that Jean can't quite discern, "-I'll see you later, then."

Affirming, Jean leaves. Scott heads for the door a moment later.

Later, Jean wakes in her room to the sound of voices. Muffled though they are by the closed door, they're still loud enough, sounding like they're coming from right outside it.

"C'mon guys. . ." she says in a low tone not likely to carry, while she gets up to cross the room to it, "if you need something just knock alr--"

No one is on the other side.

Jean glances down the hallways, but no one is sight, either.

In fact, only now do a small group of students turn down this way. A couple looking to her as they pass by. Though their lips seem to be forming familiar words, what comes out of them doesn't sound like real language to Jean. She stares uncomprehendingly, but they've already turned away; moved along.

Jean massages her head.

Checking the time, she decides to head to the kitchen to fix herself an early dinner.

Afterward, from the perspective of Cyclops coming down the hall, we spy Jean getting into the elevator.

She's gone down to the Danger Room. A new addition to the X Mansion since last she walked these halls.

In fact, an addition directly related to her departure.

She's in the Control Room portion, leafing through a manual when we hear Scott's voice: "Interested?"

"How could I not be," lowering the manual, she meets him with an impressed look, "I almost can't believe you built this."

Scott smiles unpretentiously.

"I was going to see what it could do but I don't know the passcode."

"It's Five-U-R-V-One-V-Four-Seven."

Jean takes on an air of play: "So does knowing it mean I'm part of some elite few?"

"You already were. All X-Men know the code."

Jean grows subdued; looking down. "Then maybe I shouldn't. . ." she runs her hand across the control panel, "that part of me is in the past."

Scott doesn't think so. "You came back with a mission, benefitting mutant and humankind. It's like what you said about change; it doesn't take awesome power to be you an X-Man."

A quiet smile crosses Jean's face, her voice to match: "That's true."

A silence falls between them. There's something more reserved about Scott than is typical, which Jean notices, and understands; the reality of authentically being able to share their lives, again.

Scott: ". . When I was seeing clearly again after, I wondered if I went too far with this room." He looks through the observation windows to the training area below.

"If maybe we shouldn't just stick to the basics; stay grounded." His gaze returns to Jean.

"It was actually Logan who pointed out a little unreality is exactly what we needed to stay level. . .It also came to my attention how the students needed it; a way to process and gain a sense of control in unpredictable circumstances." In contrast to Cyclops' needs of that time; to let go of what he thought could be controlled.

"The students use this space?"

"Under my supervision in Danger Class."

Jean takes that in before stepping back to an earlier point in the conversation: "How is Logan, by the way?"

"He's Logan."

Jean wears a smile like she shouldn't have expected more of an answer; some things never change.

"He's struck up an odd friendship with Kurt -er, Nightcrawler, though." He makes the change, unsure which moniker Jean would most remember him by.

"Odd how?"

"Well if I were to bet on which person Logan would actually wanna' spend his time with, Nightcrawler would've been my forth choice, at best."

Jean looks like she's thinking over what his other choices may be. Then she eyes him. "So when is the next Danger Class?"

Next Day - Danger Class

In the Control Room Cyclops finishes programming a sim: "This disengages it instantly if something goes awry," he points out to Jean. "The sim does function on select voice commands from inside, however there are situations which can fetter that. Best to have a failsafe. For training we'll rotate or the Professor fields it. For classes I'll typically station myself here for that eventuality. . . Though you could take it up today?"

Jean wasn't expecting the offer. "Maybe I'll just watch for this session."

With a nod, Cyclops directs his attention to his class waiting in the Danger Room proper.

As the sim gets underway, Jean is able to watch via the observation window turned into multiple screens, covering the action from different angles. Most display the fully simulated environment, though a couple show the action without the virtual reality overlay.

While she takes in the action from her position just behind Cyclops, Jean's fingers begin to move restlessly. The movement is almost absentminded, though soon Jean is checking her level of engagement.

And soon after that, she has to check something hasn't malfunctioned with the display.

Suddenly everything is too high of contrast; the colours are unreal. Jean looks to the

section of the control panel that works the monitors, and realizes the control panel itself looks unreal.

The sensation has grown overwhelming -it's auditory as well as visual.

Meanwhile, the class doesn't seem to be functioning to Cyclops' standard. Yet the action on the screens isn't enough to distract him from hearing the door.

He glances back. No Jean.

Hesitating, Cyclops then disengages the sim. He moves to check the hall and hears the close of the elevator door.

Still standing in the doorway of the Control Room, the voice of one of his students can be heard calling into the comms: "Is class over already, Cyclops?"

Sighing with this personal mystery, Cyclops returns to the control panel, responding in kind: "No. We're gonna' run it again from the top. And guys, take this one seriously."

We find Jean back upstairs on the dorm level, looking disturbed. More so as finds herself outside Scott's -formerly hers and Scott's- room, instead of the one she presently occupies; as if she's walked here without thinking.

From down the hall comes a voice. "Ah, there you are."

"Jean?"

She turns to find- "Oh- Ororo. Sorry. I had something on my mind. . ."

Storm acknowledges whose door they're outside. "Or someone?"

"Or something else."

"Well if you are looking for Scott, right now is his Danger Class-"

"-I know, actually I just came from watching some of it. . ."

"Well I am glad you did not linger. I wanted to ask if you would like to talk about whatever we desire over a cup of tea, as we used to?"

At this, Jean's disturbance falls away. "I'd love that."