Chapter 78: Identity Crisis
Note: Met the goal, here's two chapters. Enjoy!
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The medical bay's fluorescent lights cast harsh shadows across Jean Grey's face as she stared down at her own unconscious form. The surreal nature of the situation had pushed her into a state of clinical detachment, which was the only way she could process what was happening without falling apart.
This is crazy.
Her doppelganger lay pale and still on the examination table, connected to various monitors that beeped in a steady rhythm. The woman's face was identical to her own, down to the small scar near her hairline from a childhood fall, a detail so minor that no shapeshifter should have known to include it.
The room was full of X-Men, although mostly the adults. The younger members didn't need to be here. Likewise, the Tennysons weren't here either.
"Preliminary genetic analysis shows a 99.97% match," Hank announced, adjusting his glasses as he studied the readout from his equipment. His blue fur seemed more vibrant under the sterile lights, a splash of color in the otherwise clinical environment. "The deviation is within the standard margin of error for our equipment."
"A shapeshifter, perhaps?" Storm suggested, her calm voice a counterpoint to the tension filling the room. Her dear teammate, sister in all but blood, had ended her class and run to see her the moment she heard about the second Jean's appearance. "We've encountered many beings capable of such deception."
"Or a psychic projection made flesh," Scott added, his jaw tight beneath his ruby quartz glasses. He hadn't taken his eyes off the unconscious woman since they'd brought her in. "Our enemies have attempted similar tactics before."
"Alternate timeline?" Emma Frost offered from her position near the door, arms crossed over her pristine white suit. "The multiverse has been particularly unstable lately. You guys should know that better than me. It hasn't been long since Bishop left."
Xavier remained silent, his fingers steepled beneath his chin as he observed both Jeans with an unreadable expression.
Jean tuned out their speculations, focusing instead on the woman who wore her face. "There's one way to get answers," she said, stepping forward. "I'll scan her mind."
"Jean, wait–" Xavier began, but she had already placed her fingertips against the unconscious woman's temples.
The psychic connection formed instantly. Too easily. As if their minds were already attuned to each other. Jean plunged into the woman's consciousness and found herself swimming through fragments of memory that felt achingly familiar.
A young girl laughing as her powers manifested for the first time, floating her teddy bear above her bed.
Xavier's gentle smile as he welcomed her to his school.
Scott's face, lit by sunset, the moment before their first kiss.
Flames consuming her, the Phoenix Force crying out in ecstasy and agony as stars died at her command.
Jean pulled back with a gasp, sweat beading on her forehead. The memories were hers, yet not quite right. They were distorted, some pieces missing entirely, others emphasized strangely, as if someone had attempted to recreate a painting from verbal description rather than seeing the original.
As if… as if this body was born very recently, and these memories didn't have the time to settle themselves properly.
"She's a clone," Jean declared, her voice steadier than she felt. "She has pieces of my memories, but they're incomplete, fragmented. Someone created her from my DNA and attempted to implant my experiences."
Beast looked up from his equipment, his leonine features troubled. "That's... not consistent with my findings, Jean."
"What?"
Beast rubbed the back of his head. "The cellular degradation patterns indicate this woman's body is biologically older than yours. Her cells show markers of stress and recent trauma, but also natural aging processes that exceed your current biological state."
"That's impossible," Jean said, a chill creeping up her spine. The implication of those words… it made her shudder. "I'm me. I've always been me."
Xavier wheeled forward, his expression grave. "If I may, Jean..." He didn't wait for permission, placing his hands near the unconscious woman's head without touching her. His eyes closed in concentration.
The silence stretched painfully as Xavier conducted his own scan. When he finally opened his eyes, Jean could see the conflict in them.
"Well?" Scott demanded, tension evident in every line of his body.
Xavier sighed heavily. "The mind patterns are... extraordinarily complex. There are layers of memory, some accessible, others buried deep or fragmented. But there is something unmistakably familiar about the underlying consciousness."
"What are you saying, Charles?" Emma asked, her cool composure slipping slightly.
"I'm saying that both telepathic signatures read as authentically Jean Grey." Xavier's gaze shifted between the standing Jean and the one on the bed. "Though there are subtle differences in the patterns. And… if I have to choose which one I'm more familiar with…" his eyes flickered to the woman sleeping.
Xavier was saying the Jean on the bed was the one whose mind he was more familiar with, the student he'd raised for a decade.
Scott took a step back, looking at Jean with new eyes. "No, no. Professor, think about it. Now... now it makes sense. It makes sense why her – why this Jean – was so easily persuaded by Ben Tennyson's arguments. Both questioning your mind-reading ethics and the mutant segregation philosophy..."
Jean recoiled as if struck. "Are you serious, Scott?! You think I'm not myself because I've been willing to consider new perspectives? Because I've grown? Or is this about that comment I made when I mentioned you weren't my boyfriend?" Her voice rose with each word.
"I'm simply noting behavioral changes that seemed subtle at the time, but in this context…" Scott began defensively. "I think I know when you replaced the real Jean… it must be right before we broke up last time, right?"
"Scott!" Jean grumbled, her hands clenching at her sides. "You've chosen to believe I'm some sort of impostor based on the fact that I've evolved as a person?"
"Now, now, don't fight like that, you guys aren't a couple anymore." Emma's form shifted, her skin shimmering into diamond for just a moment as she approached the medical readouts. "Fascinating. The genetic evidence seems rather clear, dear. Though I must say, clone or not, your fashion sense has certainly improved since you... died."
"Emma," Xavier warned, though his tone lacked its usual authority.
Jean felt the subtle shift in the telepathic shields around the room, shields she helped maintain on a daily basis. They were reorienting, no longer including her in their protection but rather protecting the others from her.
The betrayal stung worse than any physical blow.
"So that's it? Years of friendship, of fighting side by side, and you all turn on me based on one test?" Jean's voice cracked, her control slipping as objects around the room began to tremble. The medical equipment shuddered, displays flickering.
Only Storm approached her, taking her hand despite the crackling energy that had begun to emanate from Jean's skin. "Jean, sister, please. No one is turning on anyone. We need time to understand what's happening."
Jean pulled away, tears streaming down her face. "I know who I am. I know it. Everything I've felt, everything I've done… it's real! I'm real."
A monitor exploded in a shower of sparks. Beast moved protectively toward the unconscious Jean, which only further enraged the standing one.
"I need air," she said through clenched teeth, moving toward the door. "Before I do something we'll all regret."
As she left, Jean caught Scott's whisper to Xavier. "Professor, if she's not Jean... who is she? And more importantly, what does she want?"
The door slammed behind her with telekinetic force, the sound echoing like a gunshot through the suddenly silent medical bay.
****
Around the same time…
The afternoon sun hung low over Xavier's property, casting shadows across the immaculate lawns. I sat with Charmcaster on a stone bench beneath an old oak tree, far enough from the mansion to ensure privacy but close enough to see the comings and goings.
The distant figures of students played a mutant version of basketball that involved occasional teleportation and force fields. It was a good distraction.
Hope fidgeted beside me with a small crystal in her hands, turning it over and over as she avoided meeting my eyes. The purple stone caught the sunlight, sending tiny flecks of light dancing across her face.
"Look," she finally said, "I appreciate the whole 'sanctuary at mutant high' offer, but I don't belong here. Plus right now? These people have enough drama without adding a questionably reformed sorceress to the mix."
I'd been expecting this conversation since Xavier invited us, but it didn't help with my pang of regret. "You could benefit from being around others with powers," I argued. "Especially after what happened in Ledgerdomain. They've got teachers, resources, support..."
"Yeah, exactly what I need. More people telling me how to use my magic 'correctly.' People who don't even know the M of magic." She made air quotes with her fingers, but there wasn't much heat behind her sarcasm. "Every time Gwen looks at me, I see both pity and suspicion. And your grandfather... he's kind, but he watches me like I might explode at any moment." She sighed, her shoulders slumping slightly. "I need space to figure out who I am without Addwaitya looming over me. And I don't feel relaxed delaying it."
The vulnerability in her admission caught me off guard. For all her bravado, Hope had been deeply shaken by our confrontation with the turtle tyrant. Not just by the near-death experience, but by the abrupt loss of the revenge mission that had defined her life for so long.
"You already rejected the Kamar Taj offer. Where will you go?" I asked, trying to keep the worry from my voice.
"There's a witch community in New Orleans that might tolerate me," she said with a small shrug. "And if not... well, I've always been good at landing on my feet."
Her casual tone couldn't quite hide the uncertainty beneath. We both knew she was starting over from scratch, with few allies and plenty of enemies.
"I'll find those Chi training texts for you," she added, her expression softening. "It'll be the payment for saving my life... twice. Can't ignore it, can I?" A small, genuine smile touched her lips, one I'd rarely seen. "Maybe I'll track down some Ancient Monks in Tibet. Learn some new tricks."
"And here I thought you were just trying to avoid my family drama," I teased, attempting to lighten the mood.
She laughed, the sound freer than I'd ever heard from her. "That too. But seriously..." Her expression grew thoughtful as she glanced toward the mansion. "Gwen will forgive you eventually, you know. For rushing off to save me. Just... maybe don't mention our night together."
I winced. "Yeah, that would probably complicate things."
"More than they already are?" Hope raised an eyebrow.
I wasn't sure what to expect from her question. Was she implying she was suspicious, or just worried? "...It's complicated," I muttered, the standard cop-out.
"Life usually is." She stood, brushing invisible dust from her clothes. "And I might attend that Genosha thing. No promises, but... it could be interesting to see what Magneto's building over there. Plus I want to be there since there's a chance old Magneto might try to harm you."
She began tracing symbols in the air, the beginnings of a teleportation spell. Purple energy gathered around her fingertips, casting her face in an otherworldly glow.
"Hope," I said, standing up. "Be careful out there."
She paused, the magic swirling around her. "You too, hero boy. Don't get yourself killed before I bring back those books."
Before I could respond, the mansion door slammed open with enough force to echo across the grounds. Jean Grey stormed out, her red hair whipping around her face as if caught in a personal windstorm. Even from this distance, I could see the telekinetic energy crackling around her like heat lightning.
Hope raised an eyebrow. "And that would be my cue to exit stage left. Good luck with... whatever that is." Her hands completed the spell, and with a flash of purple light, she vanished, leaving behind only the faint scent of magic.
I stood there for a moment, caught between calling after the rapidly disappearing Hope one last time and approaching the clearly distraught Jean. The decision was made for me when Jean's eyes locked onto mine across the lawn, their green depths filled with a storm of emotions.
"Jean? Hey, wait up!" I called, jogging toward her.
She turned toward me, her hands clenched at her sides, energy still rippling off her in visible waves. For a moment, I thought she might lash out, but then her shoulders slumped, the fight draining out of her.
"Not now, Ben," she said, her voice raw. "Unless you've also decided I'm some sort of impostor?"
I slowed my approach, keeping my body language open and non-threatening. "I have no idea what just happened in there," I lied, because of course I did know, at least the broad strokes from my meta-knowledge. The X-Men had found out that this Jean was a clone. The plot was a little different since she wasn't pregnant… I think… but the plotline had started regardless. "But you look like you could use a friend."
Jean studied my face, her telepathic powers likely brushing against my mind to search for deception. The Omnitrix provided its natural shielding, but I tried to project sincere concern regardless. I wasn't sure if she could feel it or not.
"They think I'm not real," she finally said, her voice barely above a whisper. "That… that I'm some kind of clone." The word broke in her throat, fragile and sharp-edged.
I chose my next words carefully. "...I'm getting a general idea of what must have happened in there. I can't imagine how terrible it must feel."
"It's okay."
"But… if this helps…" I hesitated. "Look, I've only known you for a few weeks. If some clone shenanigans did happen, it couldn't have been within this short timeframe. So I'm sure that the Jean Grey I've argued with, fought alongside, and occasionally annoyed with bad jokes, that's you. That's the only Jean I know, anyway. So if you want to talk, I'm here."
An unsure laugh escaped her, small and surprised. "That's a convenient way to make me trust you. You're good with your words… But yes, thank you. That makes me feel a little less crazy."
"I'm glad." I acknowledged with a shrug. "Another thing I want to say is… identity isn't just DNA. I would know since all these aliens I transform, they had an original DNA donor. But I don't transform into them, and rather into my own version of that alien. Identity is choices, connections, and the way you change and grow. Clone or not – and I'm not saying you are – the Jean that's been helping me understand this world, who listened to my ideas even when they challenged yours... that person is real. So take a deep breath and try to relax, alright?"
The energy around her dimmed slightly, her expression softening from anger to something more vulnerable. "I can't go back in there," she admitted. "I feel so… so angry and betrayed at them."
"Then don't." I gestured to the path leading into the woods surrounding the property. "I happen to be an expert at avoiding difficult conversations. Take a walk with me?"
After a moment's hesitation, she nodded, falling into step beside me as we headed toward the treeline. I could feel the weight of what I was doing, forming a bond with someone who, in the original Marvel storyline, becomes one of the most dangerous entities in the universe. The Phoenix Force was no joke, and Jean Grey's connection to it had led to cosmic-level destruction in the comics.
But the woman walking beside me now wasn't that Jean. Not yet, anyway.
She was someone lost and hurting, questioning her very existence. And despite all my meta-knowledge, I couldn't bring myself to treat her like a ticking time bomb rather than a person.
No, perhaps exactly because of that meta knowledge, I felt pity for this poor woman. She didn't ask to be created, so why did she have to suffer? How could the X-Men throw her away immediately as if she'd chosen to trick them as an imposter?
Sometimes being a hero meant seeing people as they are, not as what they might become. After all, wasn't that exactly what I'd just told her about identity?
As we walked into the dappled shade of the forest, I made a silent promise to myself that, I guess this time around, I'd be her friend, her anchor in this storm. And maybe… just maybe… that would be enough to change the story I knew.
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