"You're certain you won't reconsider?" Ravonna asked, adjusting the silver and white wrappings of her Moonknight garb. "Khonsu's temple offers sanctuary."
Tyson shook his head. "There's too much we need to handle before Apocalypse consolidates his power base. I need to get my people home."
Ravonna nodded slowly. "Very well. But know that Khonsu's protection extends to you all, should you need sanctuary."
"We'll remember," Tyson said.
Iron Lad grabbed Moonknight as he activated his repulsors. "Good luck, Tyson."
The time traveler lifted into the air, heading toward the distant temple complex. The silence that followed hung over the group.
Reed Richards was the first to break it. "Alright, Tyson. You said you know how to get us home. How?"
Tyson turned to face the group. The Fantastic Four stood together; Jean Grey and Jessica Drew flanked them, both women watching him.
"I suppose I should fill in the blanks," Tyson began. "What we've been experiencing here, the anachronisms, the way everything seems disjointed. We're in ancient Egypt, but there are energy weapons, advanced metallurgy, and technology that shouldn't exist for millennia. It's cultural contamination from Rama-Tut. He was a time traveler."
Sue asked, "You're saying he deliberately altered this time period?"
"Rama-Tut wasn't just some local warlord who got lucky with alien technology or something equally far-fetched. He was Nathaniel Richards, a time traveler who came back to this period from the far future. Even from our time, Sue. That's why everything feels wrong. We're not in some alternate timeline or pocket dimension. We're in 3000 BC. The real 3000 BC, but one that's been contaminated by future technology and knowledge."
Johnny's flames flared brighter. "Wait, hold up. You're telling me we traveled back five thousand years?"
"We screwed up, Reed," Tyson said. "It was the temporal-spatial part of the formula we never solved."
Jessica spoke up, "If Rama-Tut came from the future, how did he get here?"
Tyson nodded approvingly at her reasoning. "Exactly. He had to get here somehow, and that means he had a ship, or a time machine."
"So where is it?" Ben Grimm asked. "This time machine of his?"
Tyson reached out across the desert, detecting the subtle electromagnetic signatures that spoke of advanced technology buried beneath the stone. "I can sense exotic metals within the pyramids and under the Sphinx. Alloys that don't belong in this time period, energy signatures that match what we encountered in Rama-Tut's palace."
Reed was already running through the possibilities. "You think one of those structures houses his time machine?"
"Has to," Tyson replied. "The question is which one, and whether it's still functional."
"If we can find it, if we can make it work..." Sue's voice cracked with hope.
"We can get home," Jessica finished, her own longing for their proper time evident in her tone.
Reed added. "Then we need to search those structures. Systematically, carefully."
"And hope Apocalypse doesn't notice what we're doing," Ben added grimly.
Tyson's enhanced hearing picked up the distant sounds of large groups moving and metal clashing. "We don't have much time. Apocalypse is already moving to consolidate his power base. Every hour we delay makes our situation more precarious."
The search beneath the Sphinx proved surprisingly straightforward. Tyson led them through hidden passages carved into the bedrock, following electromagnetic signatures. They found Rama-Tut's ship in a vast chamber hollowed out beneath the monument's foundation. Reed approached the ship's control interface. His elastic fingers stretched and contorted to reach multiple control surfaces simultaneously, his mind processing the alien symbols and energy patterns with remarkable speed.
"The temporal mechanics are actually quite elegant once you understand the underlying principles. The ship creates a localized distortion field that—"
"Reed," Sue interrupted gently. "Can you get us home?"
"Yes. The navigation system is intuitive enough. I've already locked in our temporal coordinates. A few adjustments to compensate for the intervening chronological drift, and we should be able to return to our exact point of departure."
Johnny whooped. "Finally! I was starting to think we'd be stuck eating dates and fighting mummies forever."
Jessica's shoulders sagged with visible relief. She had been watching Tyson all day. Through Limbo, through his grief, through choices that would ripple across a timeline. She hadn't asked questions. Hadn't pushed for explanations. She'd simply been present, steady, and reliable.
Jean nodded, though Magneto's helmet made her expression difficult to read.
Tyson leaned against the far wall of the chamber and let himself feel the weight of what had happened. He'd stood behind a fox mask and watched a man become a monster, not through corruption or malice, but through grief and rejection. Most mutants triggered around some traumatic or emotionally-driven event. For Rogue, it had been her first kiss, then the trauma. Nephri's words had been the catalyst for Apocalypse, but the transformation had been waiting inside Nur for years, needing only the right wound to set it loose.
And Tyson had done nothing. He'd let it happen, knowing the timeline demanded it, telling himself that restraint was wisdom.
But it didn't feel like wisdom. It felt like complicity.
Because the parallel was impossible to ignore. Nur had been shaped by forces beyond his control, Rama Tut's persecution, the desert's isolation, the betrayal of the one person whose love might have anchored him to his humanity.
Jean, had been shaped by a different kind of force; Xavier's walls, the suppression of something inside her, the slow burial of a part of herself. He hadn't been able to help Nur. It wasn't just that he arrived too late; his fate was sealed the moment Rama-Tut arrived. Apocalypse was meant to happen regardless of Tyson. But Jean was sitting ten feet away from him, and whatever Xavier had done to her mind, it wasn't too late to undo.
Once Reed had confirmed the temporal coordinates three times, and Johnny had stopped celebrating long enough to sit down, Tyson used the quiet minutes to think. Though "think" was too generous a word for what his mind was doing. It was more like circling; the same image playing behind his eyes on a loop. Not Illyana this time, though she was there, a permanent ache beneath everything else.
He spoke up, "Alright, guys, I'm sure everyone's looking forward to getting back home. But I need a few minutes to help Jean."
Jean turned toward him. "Me?"
"Yeah. You came with me, even though you didn't know what you were getting yourself into. You dove into a battle with no powers, no way to defend yourself. You've been looking for answers since before I arrived at the Institute. Xavier never gave you what you needed. Neither did Emma Frost. But maybe I can."
"I trust you, Tyson, but if two of the world's most powerful psychics couldn't help me, how can you?"
Tyson stepped closer, meeting her gaze through the helmet's slits. "I told you once that I'm strongest when I'm using your power. It's because you, Jean, are the world's most powerful psychic. That means when I have your power, I am the world's most powerful psychic. Will you let me try?"
He held out his hand.
Jean smiled and took it.
And immediately, he knew it was different.
And he knew something was wrong. Very wrong.
Jean started raising her hands to remove the helmet when Tyson gently grabbed her wrists, stopping her. "Hold on."
He guided her to a chair and sat across from her, close enough that they could still touch. "I need to check on something first. This might take a while. If you can, keep your hand in mine, if that's okay."
Jessica stepped forward. "Is everything alright?"
Sue and the rest of the Fantastic Four watched nearby, except Reed, who'd gone back to inspecting the ship.
Tyson answered, "When I touch someone, I absorb their powers, memories, everything. I get a copy. But inside my head, there's a space where those copies go. If I absorb someone permanently, they stay inside there. But when Rogue... err, Ann Marie was in my head permanently, she mentioned something once, when I first discovered her there. She said that there were others who came and went. I hadn't thought much of it at the time, but I think she meant that those I absorbed temporarily were there for a little while. I haven't tested it since I got control of my power, but I can feel Jean there, inside what I call the White Room, but it doesn't feel right. I'm going to check there first. Safer to check my mind before I dive into hers."
Jean squeezed his hand. "Thank you for helping me, Tyson."
"No sweat. Compared to those morning training sessions we used to put you through at House of M, this should be easy. All you need to do is hold my hand."
He paused, studying her face through the helmet. "One thing, though. If you feel the drain, like how it used to be before I had control, don't hold on, okay?"
"Okay."
Jessica crouched beside them. "Want me to keep watch?"
"Please."
She positioned herself between them and the rest of the chamber. She'd held it together through all of this because falling apart wasn't an option. It never had been, not since the day she'd woken up in the lab and realized what she was. But watching Tyson sit down across from Jean, take her hand, and close his eyes, she knew he'd tear apart his own mind to help a friend. He nearly said as much when he'd convinced Jean to join them. The thought cracked something in her composure that she hadn't expected. Not with envy. Recognition. Because she knew he'd do the same for her.
She set her jaw and kept watch.
Tyson closed his eyes and entered a meditative state. His breathing slowed, deepened. The warmth of Jean's hand became distant, an anchor rather than a sensation. He focused inward, past the surface thoughts and immediate memories, diving deeper into the architecture of his own mind.
The transition was seamless. One moment, he existed in the physical world; the next, he opened his eyes and found himself within the mental space outside the White Room.
The rest of his mind had been organized with separate areas for all the souls he'd absorbed completely previously. Sabertooth lurked in his forest. Magneto occupied his cottage. Jason Stryker existed in a common room of the Institute, filled with his illusions. Healer remained in a corner of the botanical guardians. Ann Marie's bedroom had been removed from his subconscious after her soul had been replaced into her body. Kaine wasn't completely settled, but he stayed inside a copy of Gwen's bedroom.
Within the White Room now, he saw President Loki, whom he'd killed and absorbed within the Void and hadn't had a chance to speak with yet. The trickster god leaned against a wall, wearing a suit and horns with a Vote for Loki pin, examining his fingernails with affected boredom.
And as he expected, Jean was here.
What he didn't expect was for there to be two Jeans.
But there was another new presence.
Ebony Maw occupied a corner of the White Room. The alien sat cross-legged, his long fingers laced beneath his chin. Tyson had absorbed Maw during the battle before being thrown back in time.
"Ah," Maw said, his voice oily as ever. "The master of this mind deigns to visit at last. I had begun to wonder if you intended to leave me here indefinitely, unaddressed. You've been busy. The grief, the time displacement. I didn't want to intrude."
"That's considerate of you."
"I am nothing if not considerate. I've had time to observe your mental architecture. It's impressive. The way you've compartmentalized the absorbed personalities, given each of them their own space, their own autonomy within defined boundaries. You've built a society of the consumed."
"You're awfully well informed for someone trapped within these walls. It seems you can perceive outside this prison, but cannot leave it. Which is telling. Get to the point."
"The point is that I see what you're doing, and I admire it." Maw leaned forward. "You take what you kill. You integrate their strengths. You learn from their perspectives. It's not so different from what the Black Order did for Thanos, offering the conquered a choice. Contribute or perish." He spread his hands. "I choose to contribute."
Tyson studied the alien's gaunt features, the intelligence behind those eyes, cold and precise as a scalpel. He'd fought this creature. He knew what Maw was capable of.
"What do you think you can offer me that is worth leaving you in my head and giving you the opportunity to subtly manipulate me?"
"Context." Maw's smile widened. "You have Loki, yes. But Loki is a narcissist who viewed Thanos through the lens of his own wounded ego. Everything he tells you will be filtered through his resentment, his fear, his pathological need to feel cleverer than everyone in the room. I served Thanos, not as a reluctant conscript but as a true believer. I understood his philosophy. His methods. The patterns of his thinking."
"You're selling me the enemy's playbook."
"I'm offering you the mind that wrote it."
Tempting. Maw's knowledge could fill gaps that Loki's perspective couldn't reach. And Maw knew it was tempting. That was the danger.
Every soul in Tyson's mental space, outside of the White Room, operated under some form of agreement, some understanding. But Maw wasn't like any of them. Too much ideology to overcome.
"No deal," Tyson said.
"You're making a mistake. Without my guidance, you'll face Thanos blind. Every contingency you fail to anticipate, every strategy you—"
"Here's what I know about you, Maw." Tyson stepped closer, and Nexus materialized in his hand. "You spent years convincing yourself that Thanos's genocide was a gift. You forced entire species to march into extinction. And you did it because you believed. Not because you were afraid, not because you were coerced, but because you genuinely thought the universe was better off with half its population dead."
Maw's composure finally cracked, not into fear, but into fervor. "Because it is. The mathematics are—"
"The mathematics are backward. What does the math say about how long it takes the population to regrow to its previous number?" Tyson voiced the math that never really made sense to him. "You're not a resource I can trust. You're not a perspective I can learn from. You're a zealot, and true believers don't negotiate. They convert."
Tyson didn't hesitate. He summoned Nexus to his hand and used all his speed to drive himself forward. The sword cut into Maw's chest before the alien could formulate his next argument. The blade pierced the mental construct, and Maw's form fractured, not with a scream or a dramatic collapse, but with a sound like a long exhalation. His abilities, his knowledge, his memories flooded into Tyson's consciousness, stripped of the personality that had wielded them.
Tactical knowledge. Fleet compositions. The exact specifications of Thanos's preferred battle formations.
The memories came last. Years of service, of belief, of absolute conviction in a cause that Tyson found monstrous.
Where Maw had been, only empty space remained.
President Loki straightened from the wall, opening his mouth, but Tyson's attention was fixed on the two Jeans standing before him. "Jean?"
One looked exactly as she always had, uncertain, guarded, her posture hunched as if trying to take up less space. The other stood with her shoulders back, chin lifted, a slight smirk, radiating a confidence that bordered on arrogance.
"I've been waiting so long for you to meet me," the confident Jean said.
Tyson frowned. "For me to meet you? Not for us to meet?"
"I met you on your first day at the Institute, when you thought about playing with yourself."
Regular Jean's face flushed crimson. Tyson laughed despite himself. "Pretty sure that wasn't what I was thinking."
"You're wrong about that."
"Okay." Tyson rubbed the back of his neck, studying them both. "So do you know why there are two of you? I've never experienced anything like this..."
He trailed off, running through memories of previous absorptions. His eyes widened slightly.
"Actually, I have. When I absorbed Dr. Connors, it wasn't just him. It was him and his alter ego, the Lizard. I always thought that was because they were two separate beings within him. But you—" He gestured between them. "You're both clearly Jean Grey."
"I'm the part of Jean that Xavier locked behind her walls," the confident one said.
"But why?"
"Because I'm her dark side. Her wants, her desires, the things she's afraid to voice."
Regular Jean stepped forward, her hands clasped together. "I didn't know. I'm sorry."
"Don't apologize." The confident Jean's smirk softened, though it didn't entirely disappear. "I was you. The parts of you that needed to be repressed, or at least that's what Xavier said. It's not your fault. He violated you. And he made me. I wasn't always like this. At least, I don't think I was. I think I was just thoughts and drives, until the walls were put up, and they kept pushing and growing until I... became me."
"This can't be healthy." Tyson mumbled. "We need to find a way to reintegrate you."
Fear flashed across the confident Jean's face, cracking her composure for the first time. "You can't. We're not the same person anymore. It would be killing me."
"If I may interject," Loki began, stepping forward. "I happen to have extensive experience with—"
"I will hear everything you want to say," Tyson said without looking at him. "But I'm going to need to handle this first. I promise."
Loki opened his mouth again, but Tyson spoke before he could. "I promise on my power as a god that I will hear you out."
The trickster god's mouth snapped shut. He calculated for a moment, then stepped back and crossed his arms.
Tyson turned back to the two Jeans and sighed, the weight of the situation settling over him. "I... I might be able to help you."
Regular Jean moved closer. "Please, whatever you can do. I never meant for this to happen."
"Don't worry, Jean." Tyson looked between them. "And uh, Jean. We'll figure this out."
The confident one laughed, though it sounded hollow. "This is going to get confusing. You can just call me Madelyne."
"Madelyne," Tyson repeated, recognizing the name. He studied her carefully, noting how she held herself differently, how she tracked his movements with an intensity that regular Jean didn't have. "Alright. That works."
Madelyne's smirk returned, sharper now. "I chose it myself. Seemed fitting for someone who's supposed to be the darker half."
"You're not dark," regular Jean said quietly. "You're just... different parts of me."
"Different parts that Xavier decided were too dangerous to let exist freely." An edge entered Madelyne's voice. "Different parts that scared him enough to lock away behind walls so thick that I couldn't even remember what it was like before."
Tyson held up a hand. "I need to understand something. When did this separation happen? Was it gradual, or was there a specific moment when you became... distinct?"
Madelyne tilted her head, considering. "It's hard to say. My earliest clear memory as myself, separate from her, was maybe six months after the walls went up. Before that, it's fuzzy. Like trying to remember a dream."
"And you've been conscious this whole time? Aware of what was happening outside?"
"Bits and pieces. Enough to know what she was experiencing, what she was feeling. Enough to know when she was suppressing something that should have been mine to express." Madelyne's face hardened. "Enough to know when you first touched her at the Institute, and I felt your power for the first time."
Regular Jean wrapped her arms around herself. "I felt you then, too. I thought it was just my powers growing stronger, but there was something else. That day, on the basketball court. Someone else."
"The Phoenix." Tyson's eyes widened. "Does it interact with both of you?"
"Yes." Both Jeans spoke simultaneously.
They looked at each other, and for a moment, recognition. Understanding. The ghost of being one, before Xavier's interference had split them apart.
Madelyne recovered first, her mask of confidence sliding back into place. "The Phoenix doesn't distinguish between us. It sees Jean Grey, whole and complete, even if we're not anymore."
"That might be important," Tyson said. "If the Phoenix recognizes you as one person, then maybe—"
"No." Madelyne interrupted. "I know what you're thinking. That if the Phoenix sees us as whole, then we should be whole. But I'm not going back to being nothing. I'm not going back to being just impulses and thoughts that get shoved down and ignored."
"I wouldn't ask you to," Tyson said carefully. "But I also can't leave you like this. Both of you deserve better than what Xavier did."
Regular Jean looked between them, her voice small. "What if we can't be fixed? What if this is just how it has to be now?"
Tyson stared at Madelyne, processing her words. "I remember back when I arrived at the Institute. You told me about this on my first day."
Jean nodded, her face softening at the memory. "I remember. You told me about Sabertooth inside you, and I told you I felt like there was someone inside me too."
"You said you'd help me if you could," Tyson continued.
"You promised you'd do the same," Jean replied. "And now you are."
Madelyne's smirk faded into something more serious. "And then Illyana sent you to hell, and I made her bring you back."
"It was you?"
"Do you think Jean would compel anyone to do anything? Even if she really wanted to?" Madelyne dared him to disagree. "No. It was me. I was the one who made Illyana bring you back from Limbo. Later, I gave you so much of ourselves to defend the Institute." She paused, her gaze intense. "It was me who let you into our mind in Vegas. Don't you remember?"
The White Room shifted around Tyson. He felt himself pulled backward, dragged through time and memory until he stood once more on the outskirts of the strip in Las Vegas.
Their eyes locked, and at that moment, Tyson made a decision born of desperation and a singular focus on his goal. His mind stretched outwards, forming invisible wispy tendrils of psychic energy that snaked toward Jean's consciousness. He pressed against the edges of her psyche, his influence spreading like a heavy fog. Manipulating others had always been a last resort reserved only for his enemies when left with no choice. But now desperation drove him to cross that line.
"I trust you, Jean. And I know you trust me. I've felt it. We connected. I've been inside you, and you've been inside me… In a way that goes beyond intimacy. The others can't possibly understand our connection and what we've shared." Tyson said. He pushed harder, his psychic powers seeping into the familiar pathways of her mind. After their time linked together in Cerebro, he knew how to navigate the complex terrain.
She felt his presence at the edges of her mind, probing and searching. His psychic touch differed from Xavier's, far less precise, but somehow more intimate.
Her telepathic barriers stood firm, walls of pure thought and will. But they couldn't contain everything. Emotions leaked through, wisps of feeling that Tyson's power caught. He found the warmth she held for him. Pushing against that section of the barrier, he picked up impressions. Their shared moments at the Institute, quiet conversations at breakfast, the way he made her laugh, his power giving her the solace of silence.
The exact nature of those feelings remained unclear to his untrained abilities. Not quite love, but not simple friendship either; something more complex that defied easy categorization. But he recognized their strength, their genuineness.
In response, Tyson gathered his own emotions. Memories flooded through him. Jean's gentle guidance when he first arrived at Xavier's, her fierce protectiveness when Illyana banished him to Limbo, quiet moments when the rest of the institute slept. Deeper feelings rose unbidden. Flashes of her smile, thoughts of her beauty that he'd tried to suppress.
He took it all, this tangled mess of gratitude and desire, friendship and want, and pressed it against her mental shields.
Not attacking. Offering. Sharing.
Jean's barriers softened, almost imperceptibly. The rigid walls became permeable, allowing tendrils of his consciousness to seep through growing cracks. He felt her acceptance, her willingness to let him in.
That small success spurred him on. He reached through the widening fissures, grasping for Jean's feelings, using them to create more openings.
A voice in the back of his mind whispered encouragement…
She was letting this happen, wanting it as much as he did. Their mutual desire created a feedback loop, each moment of connection amplifying the next.
A soft gasp escaped Jean's lips. The sound was not pain, resistance, or exertion.
Pleasure.
Pure and unrestrained. Her mental barriers crumbled further as waves of sensation passed between them.
Their psychic connection deepened as emotions flowed freely now. Physical sensations began to blur; her racing heart and his quickened breath became indistinguishable. Las Vegas faded as their consciousness intertwined more intimately than any physical embrace.
Jean's emerald eyes locked onto his mismatched ones, pupils dilated. Her lips parted slightly as another small sound escaped. The telekinetic hold on Tyson weakened as her concentration wavered under the assault of shared sensation.
Around them, the other X-Men remained caught in Tyson's illusions, unaware of the intimate psychic dance unfolding. The neon lights of Vegas cast shifting colors across Jean's face as she swayed slightly, caught in the tide of their mental joining.
Tyson pressed deeper into the connection, riding the wave of Jean's acceptance. Each barrier that fell revealed new depths of emotion, and new sensations to explore. Awareness of the physical world faded away, leaving only their interwoven consciousness floating in a sea of shared feelings.
Tyson had succeeded.
Her grip on him wavered.
Their eyes remained locked, neither able to look away as his mismatched ones burrowed into her emerald greens. With a final surge of energy, Tyson tried to override Jean's will, to bend her to his command against her consent.
"Let. Me. Go."
The memory dissolved, and Tyson found himself back in the White Room proper, both Jeans staring at him with knowing expressions.
Madelyne spoke first, satisfaction in her tone. "It was the first time we fought. All of us. You against us, and us against each other."
"You two fought?"
"I wanted you." Madelyne said directly. "That's why I let you in. I could feel your influence seeping in, pushing against the barriers, so I pushed back. We were so close to each other. You could have freed me that day. But she stopped you."
Jean's face flushed, but her voice remained steady. "It wasn't right. We were trying to keep him from making a mistake. He was trying to save Jubilee, our best friend. And you were trying to what? Use him to free yourself? Claim him from Jubilee?"
"I would've shared," Madelyne smirked shamelessly.
Jean groaned, pressing her palms against her temples. "It was all wrong. Everyone was wrong. Tyson was wrong for trying to kill someone, trading one life for another. You were wrong for using him and trying to take him from Jubes. And I was wrong for going along with it for even a second."
"But now we're here, and now we see the whole picture." Madelyne's tone shifted, losing its playful edge. "When we were in his mind, we saw why he was doing it. He wasn't wrong. He was resigned. He was doing it because he was trying to protect the future. Trying to protect everyone."
"No…" She paused, turning to lock eyes with Jean. Madelyne's voice dropped to something quieter, more serious. "He was trying to protect half of everyone. That's what we felt before we were forced out of his mind. The struggle. He was willing to sacrifice himself for it. It wasn't just Jubilee."
Both Jeans turned to face Tyson, their expressions mirroring each other in a way that tightened his chest.
"It was for this," Jean said softly. "You knew the Institute would be attacked because you saw it in a vision." Her voice grew more certain as she put the pieces together. "You saw a lot more, didn't you?"
"I knew Thanos would come. I thought we had years left." Tyson opened his mouth, then closed it. Finally, he said, "I didn't know I'd lose Jubilee, lose Illyana."
Both women moved simultaneously, closing the distance and wrapping their arms around him. Jean's embrace was gentle, hesitant. Madelyne's was fierce, possessive. Together, they held him as the enormity of what he'd been carrying alone threatened to crush him.
President Loki cleared his throat. "How touching. Truly. But I feel compelled to point out a rather significant flaw in your heroic planning."
Tyson lifted his head, meeting the trickster god's gaze over the women's shoulders.
"You can't stop him. I've seen many things across many timelines, many possibilities. All of it ended up in the Void. I've witnessed empires and gods. And in all my observations, one constant remains." He stopped a few feet away, his expression grave. "Thanos is inevitable."
"We have to try," Jean said, pulling back slightly but keeping one hand on Tyson's arm.
"Oh, by all means, try." Loki's smile held no warmth. "But understand what you're facing. Even without the Infinity Stones, Thanos is a force unto himself. His strength rivals that of the Hulk, perhaps exceeds it. I've seen him tear through armies with his bare hands, watched him crush the skulls of gods between his fingers like overripe fruit."
Tyson didn't need Loki's testimony to know that. He'd fought Thanos himself. Even before that, he'd watched the Mad Titan on screen, beat the Hulk across a collapsing ship, ending the fight in seconds. He'd whooped him so bad it sent Banner and Hulk into an existential crisis afterward. And Thanos had done it casually, the way a man might chastise a child. And that Thanos was weaker than the one he'd fought…
Five thousand years of distance separated him from the moment he'd need to face that strength again…
Madelyne's grip on Tyson tightened. "Tyson fought strong opponents before."
"Have you fought someone who can survive in the vacuum of space? Who can withstand the heat of a star's corona?" Loki began pacing, his hands gesturing as he spoke. "His skin is nearly impervious to conventional weapons. Bullets bounce off him like raindrops. Blades shatter against him. I once witnessed him take a direct hit from Mjolnir, the kind that could level mountains, and he merely staggered."
Tyson's jaw clenched. He'd done it himself. Hit Thanos with Mjolnir propelled by his magnetism, and the Titan was hardly phased.
"His tactical mind is equally formidable," Loki continued. "Thanos has conquered countless worlds, not through brute force alone, but through strategic brilliance. He understands warfare on a level that makes mortal generals look like children playing with toy soldiers. He anticipates his enemies' moves, exploits their weaknesses, turns their strengths against them."
"You're trying to scare us," Jean said.
"I'm trying to prepare you." Loki stopped pacing, serious in a way that he rarely was. "Thanos possesses a genius-level intellect. He's mastered sciences that would take your brightest minds centuries to comprehend. He's studied the mystic arts, though he rarely employs them, preferring the certainty of physical dominance. And his willpower..." Loki shook his head. "I've never encountered anyone with such absolute conviction. When he sets his mind to a goal, the universe itself seems to bend around his determination."
"He's also nearly immortal," Loki added. "Not in the sense that he cannot die, but in the sense that he has lived for millennia without showing signs of age or weakness. His regenerative abilities, while not as dramatic as some, are sufficient to heal from wounds that would kill lesser beings."
Tyson had known all of this, but hearing it cataloged so precisely made it feel more impossible.
"And then there's his combat prowess." Something almost reverent crept into Loki's tone. "Thanos has trained in countless martial disciplines across a thousand worlds. He wields weapons with the skill of a master, but prefers to fight barehanded, using his overwhelming strength and technique to dominate his opponents."
"You paint a grim picture," Madelyne said, her voice tight.
"I paint an accurate one."
Tyson pulled away from both Jeans, standing straighter. "I know what he is. I've seen what he can do."
"Then you know the futility of opposing him directly. Which begs the question, what exactly is your plan? Because if it involves a straightforward confrontation, you might as well surrender now and save everyone the suffering."
Tyson met Loki's stare with absolute certainty. "I know when Thanos will arrive. I know the forces he'll bring to bear. And I have five thousand years to prepare for him."
The White Room went still.
"I too will live for millennia," Tyson continued, conviction hardening every word. "And when we fight again, Thanos will know that I too am inevitable."
Loki's face shifted. Something like genuine interest. "That's part of a plan."
"The plan, right now, is to help Madelyne find another body." Tyson turned to face both Jeans, already working through the mechanics. "I know a ritual to move a soul to another body. I've done it before."
Jean's eyes widened. "You have?"
"Though it relies on Voodoo, and I don't think that the Loa exist yet." Tyson rubbed his jaw, considering the problem from multiple angles. "But I have enough of a foundation in the underlying structure of the magic, thanks to Calypso, that I can find enough meaning and power to complete it."
Jean shifted her weight. "Is that the best solution?"
"There are two of you sharing one body." Tyson gestured between them. "It's already causing problems. We need to solve this before it comes to a head."
Loki stepped forward. "If you're offering body transfers, perhaps we could negotiate an arrangement that would benefit both—"
"We'll discuss it later," Tyson cut him off.
The trickster god's mouth snapped shut, though his expression suggested the conversation was far from over.
"Any good options?" Madelyne asked.
Tyson thought about it, running through the possibilities. "A few. But if you want to stay a woman, there's only two."
Both Jeans leaned forward slightly.
"Supergiant. She was one of Thanos's Black Order. Blue skin, bald. She was a mind controller who could turn intangible."
Madelyne's nose wrinkled. "Blue skin?"
"The other is Whiteclaw. She's a mirror demon that looks like Felicia and has all the powers of Sabertooth. So it's ageless like me, has regeneration, and claws. I told her I'd transfer her to another body because I don't want it wearing Felicia's face."
Madelyne lit up. "That's perfect."
Jean blinked, clearly not expecting that response.
"She's immortal too, yes?" Madelyne pressed, stepping closer to Tyson. "I could stay with you."
Jean's mouth fell open. "Stay? What do you mean?"
Madelyne turned to face her other self, something almost gentle crossing her face. "You know, you can feel it too. Tyson isn't planning to go back. He's going to stay. To prepare for Thanos. He said as much. Jean, you've had your life to live. If I stayed with Tyson, I could have mine."
Jean's lips pressed together as she processed what that meant. A future where she could return to her life, to normalcy. A future where Madelyne could exist without being suppressed, without fighting for control.
A future where they were both free.
"Only if you're alright with it," Tyson said carefully, looking between them. "Both of you."
Jean stood silent for a long moment. Finally, she spoke. "We should do it."
Madelyne's smile broke open, genuine and unguarded in a way that transformed her. "Really?"
"Really." Jean's voice grew stronger, more certain. "You're right. I've had my life. The Institute, the Massachusetts Academy, my friends. And you've been trapped, watching it all happen without being able to participate." She paused, swallowing hard. "That's not fair. That's not right. When Xavier put up those walls, he didn't just suppress my powers. He suppressed part of who I am. Part of what makes me whole." She gestured to Madelyne. "You're not just some dark impulse to be locked away. You're passion, and fire, and all the things I was told to be afraid of. If you can have her own life, your own body, your own choices..." Jean's voice wavered slightly. "Then maybe we can both be complete. Separate, but whole."
Tyson looked at them both. Jean's truth was written on Madelyne's face. This wasn't just about solving a problem. It was about two people finally getting the chance to exist without compromise.
"Alright." Tyson nodded slowly. "Then we'll do it."
Madelyne moved before anyone could react, closing the distance and pressing her lips to Tyson's in a kiss that burned with intensity. Her hands fisted in his shirt, pulling him closer as she poured years of suppressed desire into the contact.
Tyson froze for a heartbeat, then responded, his arms coming up to steady her as the kiss deepened. Heat flooded through him, different from anything he'd felt with regular Jean. More aggressive, more demanding, more—
Jean cleared her throat loudly.
Madelyne pulled back, breathless and grinning. "Sorry. Had to get that out of my system."
"Clearly." Jean's face had gone bright red, though whether from embarrassment or something else, Tyson couldn't tell.
Loki's slow clap echoed through the White Room. "How delightfully dramatic. Though I must point out that you're making rather significant promises about body transfers and immortal companions without addressing the rather pressing question of how exactly you plan to do that when we're all trapped within your mind."
Tyson turned to face him, Madelyne still pressed against his side. "Oh, only you're trapped here. They're temporary copies. This is just the planning phase. You know how that goes, with all your little schemes and such. Now, I'm going to go plan a ritual, transfer a demon's soul, and handle this. Then you and I are going to have a nice long chat."
— Rogue Redemption —
Behind the Scenes
- Hey, remember the Going Rogue sidequest (Arc 6 Ch 10, Chapter 77) where Tyson and Jean fought and had that mental battle. Boom. Callback. When Tyson was pressing against Jean's barriers and felt her letting him in, it wasn't really her. It was Madelyne! If you're not a comic fan, or haven't watched the cartoon, you might not know who Madelyn is. A quick search could remedy that, or you could sit back and enjoy the ride. *Evil DM laugh* Muhahaha.
The whole Madelyn/Jean thing was always planned. When I plotted this story originally, I wanted escalating storylines, so Jean had to be pushed way back because of the power level of the Phoenix. It was penned for maybe Arc 18 or 19 in the original story, very near the ending.
- Jean didn't know it was possible to remove Rogue from Tyson's head. Jean left in Chapter 89, and Tyson revived Rogue in Chapter 108, after retrieving her body from Sinister in Chapter 107, the same chapter where he learned about Apocalypse. Jean also did not know Calypso, she didn't show up until Chapter 105.
- The portal the demons used in Limbo was last mentioned in Chapter 33.
"In one of the larger underground chambers, we found a portal. It pulsed with energy, and we could sense the demons, itching to pour out." She leaned back in her chair, fingers playing with the rim of her teacup. "I tried using my connection to Limbo to close it. But nothing happened. And without any knowledge of magic, we were stuck."
The Ancient One listened intently, her face impassive. After a moment, she nodded. "I'm not surprised you couldn't close it." She paused, considering. "A gateway should have been beyond even Azazel's capabilities to create. Unless he had help and used a ritual."
Illyana's eyebrows knitted together, her blue eyes clouding with confusion. "Gateway?" she echoed, the term unfamiliar to her.
The Ancient One leaned back, her expression turning grave. "Yes, a portal that remains open indefinitely, unaffected by external factors. If Azazel did create such a portal, then there's nothing you can do. At least, not as you are."
- Ann Marie mentioning that there were others in the White Room temporarily was a callback to Arc 2, Chapter 9: The White Room (Chapter 29). Note: This may not be the exact posted version. I rewrote the early Arcs three times; the most recent update was never posted publicly.
Rogue's voice now quivered with an undercurrent of fear as she responded, "I'm always on guard, always ready to defend myself." A hint of weariness seeped into her words as the persistent threats weighed upon her.
"From him, and the others," she added in a hushed tone meant only for Tyson's ears.
Tyson studied Rogue intently, noticing the weariness that clouded her eyes. He could see now the constant strain she endured, the hypervigilance that was her reality. Leaning closer, his brow furrowed with concern, he gently asked, "What others?"
Rogue hesitated, conflicting emotions playing across her face. Fear and resolve warred within her, but she steadied herself to continue. "The ones who are only here for a little while," she began slowly. "They come and go." Her gaze grew distant, lost in troubled memories. "The demons, the nice girls," she murmured under her breath, "and the mean one."
"And the soldiers," Rogue added after a pause, her voice barely a whisper.
Tyson realized she was talking about all those he had touched since arriving in this strange world.