Tyson pulled out a phone. He scrolled through names he hadn't looked at in months, found the one he wanted, and hit dial. He put it on speaker.
The line rang three times before someone picked up.
"Tyson?" Gwen's voice came through, surprised but warm. "Oh my God, it's been... how long has it been?"
"Too long," he said. "How are you doing, Gwen?"
"I'm... busy. Really busy. But it's good to hear your voice. What's going on?"
No point dancing around it. "I need your help. I've got a situation, and I could use someone with your particular skill set."
There was a pause on the other end. He could hear background noise, something rhythmic and mechanical, like she was moving through a space with heavy equipment.
"Tyson, I would. You know I would. Any other time, I'd already be trying to find a way." Another pause, longer this time. "But I can't. Not right now. There's something happening here, and I can't walk away from it."
"What kind of something?"
"Jim Jaspers."
"Who?" he asked.
"He's the Prime Minister. Of the UK." Gwen's voice had shifted. The warmth was still there, but underneath it was harder. "He's been targeting mutants. Rounding them up, putting them in camps, the whole playbook. He's got the public behind him, got legislation, got enforcement squads. It's bad."
"Jesus."
"But that's not even the worst part." She took a breath. "He's a mutant himself. A powerful one. Reality warping, Tyson. He can just... change things. The rules don't apply to him. Physics, logic, none of it. And he's losing his mind. Or maybe he already lost it. The things I've been seeing over here, the sky doesn't look right anymore. Streets that used to go somewhere just loop back on themselves. He's pulling everything apart, and most people don't even realize it's happening."
"An unhinged reality warper sounds like something you shouldn't be anywhere near."
"Probably not, but someone has to stop him, and I'm here. I'm already in it." She paused again. "I know whatever you're dealing with is important. You wouldn't have called if it wasn't. But this is important too, and if nobody does anything..."
She trailed off. When she spoke again, her voice was steady.
"I'm going to stop him. Right now. I know you'll get through whatever you're facing. You're strong, Tyson. Stronger than anyone I've ever met." She paused. "But I'm strong too. And you helped me realize that. So... good luck. With everything."
The phone clicked off.
Tyson stared at the device in his hand for a few seconds, then slid it back into his pocket.
Jessica stood a few feet away, arms crossed, watching him. She was quiet for a long moment before she spoke.
"She sounded different," Jessica said.
"She did."
"Confident."
"Yeah."
"A reality warper. That's not... that's not something you just punch your way through."
"No, it's not."
"How fast can you fly?"
"Mach seven, top speed."
Jessica did the math before he could. "Even at your best, that's thirty-five minutes plus to get to Oxford. Then you'd have to find Gwen, locate Jaspers, and stop a reality warper. All within a few hours." She looked at him. "Do you have anything that can actually stop a reality warper?"
Tyson thought about it. If he could get his hands on Jaspers, maybe the absorption would work. Take in whatever mutant power he had and use it as a counter. But He Who Remains had taught him that he couldn't rely on touch, especially against someone who could decide your hand passed through them, or that you no longer had a power, or that you'd never existed in the first place.
He shook his head. "Maybe I could snipe him from afar. If he didn't see it coming, it might work."
"We can't go help her," Jessica said.
"No."
"Because what we're dealing with..."
"Has to come first. Yeah."
"She'll be okay, though." Jessica said it like she was trying to convince herself. "She's smart. She's resourceful. She'll figure it out."
"She will," Tyson said. He believed it, mostly. Gwen had come a long way from the girl he'd first met in class. But a reality warper who was also the head of state, that was a different league entirely.
"If the battle still happened," she said, "if Thanos arrived, then Gwen won."
Tyson looked at her.
"Right?" Jessica pressed. "If everything played out the way it's supposed to, days from now, whatever Jaspers is doing didn't spread. Didn't reach New York. Didn't swallow the whole planet. That means somebody stopped him. And she just told us she was going to."
Tyson turned that over. She was right. At Project PEGASUS, none had breathed a word about England. No mention of a reality warper destabilizing an allied nation, no emergency briefings about a rogue head of state rewriting the laws of physics across the British Isles. Their attention had been dominated by the Tesseract. After he'd come back, nothing either, not a single word about streets looping back on themselves or skies that didn't look right. A mutant with reality-warping power who had seized control of a country would have been impossible to ignore. That kind of threat would have dominated every newscycle, let alone merited a single intelligence briefing. SHIELD would have been all over it. The fact that nobody had mentioned it meant either it had been contained or it had been erased so completely that there was nothing left to report.
Either way, Gwen had handled it.
Tyson paused. "Or I handled it."
Jessica looked at him.
"This version of me," he said. "I can fly to Britain. Make sure Jaspers is stopped. Then come back and continue with the mission. If I do it quietly enough, if nothing ever gets out, past me would never have known about it. Because I did it cleanly enough that there was nothing to know."
He could see it. Mach seven to Oxford, thirty-five minutes. Find Jaspers, put him down before the warping got worse. No press, no witnesses, no SHIELD reports. Just a problem that stopped being a problem, and a timeline that stayed intact because nobody ever learned about it.
"Tyson."
He was already running the logistics. He'd need to leave Jessica here to fly that fast—
"Tyson." Jessica stepped in front of him. "You can't do it all alone. You can't fix all of this alone." She put a hand on his chest, not pushing, just stopping him. Grounding him. "That's why I'm here. If you keep thinking like that, where does it leave us?"
He didn't answer.
"Where does it leave you?"
He wanted to argue. He had the speed; he probably had the power. He could take hits that would kill anyone else and walk away. He needed to be the one who fixed everything, carried everything, absorbed every… problem until there was nothing left of the man doing the absorbing.
"You're right," Tyson said.
"Alright," Jessica said. "Then let's keep moving."
"Hop on," Tyson said, turning his back toward Jessica. "Next stop, Massachusetts."
He expected her to climb onto his back, but instead she leaped forward into his arms. Her momentum carried her against his chest, and instinctively, he caught her in a princess carry, one arm beneath her knees and the other supporting her back.
"That works too," Tyson said, adjusting his grip to make sure she was secure. The scent of her hair filled his nostrils as she settled against him. "Wednesday, direct me."
"Bearing northeast," Wednesday's voice came through his earpiece. "I'll provide course corrections as needed."
Tyson bent his knees and launched skyward, the ground falling away beneath them. Jessica's arms tightened around his neck as they climbed through the cool morning air. He kept his ascent gradual until they reached cruising altitude above the cloud layer. He maintained a steady pace, fast enough to cover ground but controlled enough that the wind didn't become unbearable. The landscape rolled beneath them, urban sprawl giving way to suburbs, then forests and farmland as they crossed into Connecticut. Jessica relaxed against his chest as they flew.
"It's peaceful up here," she said, watching the world pass below.
"Different perspective on everything," Tyson agreed. "Makes problems seem smaller somehow."
They flew in comfortable silence for a while, Wednesday occasionally providing minor course corrections. The landscape scrolled beneath them, highways, reservoirs, the Connecticut River cutting through farmland, and none of it mattered. Even if he failed, all of it would still be here in four days. The river would keep flowing. The world would keep turning. Albeit, with half of the people gone.
Illyana would be gone.
The thought arrived without warning, and Tyson's jaw clenched. He was carrying Jessica to recruit a woman whose best friend and his lover had died in a battle trying to save him, to fight a battle he'd already lost, a battle where another of his lovers was going to die, and he was going to let it happen.
"Approaching the Massachusetts Academy," Wednesday announced as they crossed the state line. "Bearing ten degrees northeast."
Tyson adjusted their trajectory, and soon the academy grounds spread out before them. The main campus sat nestled in rolling hills, oaks and maples just beginning to show the first hints of spring green. A wrought iron fence bordered the property, more decorative than defensive, stone pillars marking the main entrance. The main building was a massive Victorian mansion, three stories of red brick crowned with ornate towers and gables. Ivy climbed the walls, tall windows reflecting the morning sunlight. Newer structures dotted the surrounding landscape. A modern science complex to the east, student dormitories forming a loose semicircle to the west in Georgian revival style. Tennis courts, athletic fields, and a track occupied the southern grounds, formal gardens and walking paths wound through the north.
"It looks like something out of a movie," Jessica observed as they descended. "All very proper and New England elite."
"That's likely what it is," Tyson said. "Old money families sending their kids here as a cover."
He touched down in a secluded grove near the main entrance, and reluctantly lowered her feet to the ground. Jessica's hands lingered on his shoulders for a heartbeat before she stepped back.
"The Massachusetts Academy is legitimate, but it's also a training ground for young mutants."
They made their way through the grove toward the main building, fallen leaves crunching softly underfoot. Students moved across the campus.
"They look so young," Jessica observed, watching a cluster of teenagers near the science building.
The main building loomed larger as they approached. Stone steps led up to doors flanked by carved columns, and Tyson couldn't shake the feeling that they were being observed.
"The principal here is a telepath," he said quietly as they reached the base of the steps. "One of the most powerful on the planet. She'll know we're here shortly, if she doesn't already."
"Should I be worried?" Jessica asked.
"Just be yourself. Emma's not evil, at least I hope she isn't, but she has her own agenda. These kids are part of it," Tyson replied. "Stay close. I keep up a sort of telepathic shield around my mind; I should be able to project one around you, too. You just need to keep a hand on my shoulder."
He climbed the stone steps until the oak doors stood before them. Tyson reached for the nearest handle, then paused, glancing back at Jessica one last time before pushing open the door and stepping into the Massachusetts Academy.
The heavy oak door swung open to reveal a spacious foyer with polished marble floors and oil paintings lining the walls. But Tyson's attention fixed immediately on the blonde woman waiting just inside the entrance. She stood with her arms crossed, wearing the academy's uniform of a blazer and a pleated skirt.
This wasn't Emma Frost. The woman before him appeared to be around his age, maybe a year younger, with shoulder-length blonde hair and sharp blue eyes that held unmistakable recognition. Her posture suggested she'd been expecting them.
Tyson tilted his head, studying her face. "Let me guess… Esme?"
She smiled. "Got it on the first try. I'm surprised you remembered me."
Behind him, Jessica shifted slightly, clearly puzzled by the exchange. Tyson kept his focus on Esme, recalling their brief but significant encounter at Alkali Lake.
"Know it or not, at the time you helped me," he said.
"I knew it." Esme's smile widened with satisfaction. She pushed off from the wall where she'd been leaning and gestured toward a corridor leading deeper into the building. "Come with me."
She turned and began walking without waiting for a response. Tyson glanced back at Jessica, who gave him a questioning look, then followed Esme into the academy's interior halls. They passed clusters of teenagers in blazers and pleated skirts. Everything appeared perfectly ordinary until a particular silhouette caught Tyson's eye. Magneto's helmet. The distinctive curves and angular design were unmistakable, even from behind. As the wearer turned, it revealed who was wearing the helmet.
It was Jean.
Jean Grey had made the school's uniform her own. The traditional blazer hung open, revealing a corset that cinched her waist. She wore the regulation skirt, but thigh-high boots added a rebellious edge. The ensemble was distinctly different from her typical style, radiating a darkness that seemed almost foreign.
Without a second thought, Tyson made a beeline for her. The crowd parted before him, whether from his imposing presence, some subconscious recognition of his urgency, or his powers pushing people aside; he couldn't say and didn't care. As he approached, Jean spotted him through the helmet. Surprise flickered across her face, then shock, and the textbooks in her arms tumbled to the floor.
"Jean," Tyson breathed, coming to a stop before her. "I... how are you?"
Jean's composure cracked. She threw her arms around Tyson without hesitation, the helmet's edge pressing against his shoulder as she buried her face against his chest. Relief, confusion, guilt, all of it hit at once. She was safe. She was here. And he'd let her slip from his thoughts during the chaos of everything that followed.
"I'm sorry it took me so long to find you," he blurted out, the words tumbling forth before he could stop them. "After Times Square. I..."
Jean pulled back, her hand raised to silence him. When she spoke, there was an edge that hadn't been there before, something darker in her voice. "Don't apologize, Tyson. I chose to leave. I made you forget—" Her fingers trembled slightly. The vulnerability was still there, but it was at war with something harder. More volatile. Jean wiped at her eyes, the gesture almost angry, as if furious at her tears.
"Everyone needed you focused," she continued, her voice sharper now. "Not distracted by someone who might..." She stopped herself, jaw clenching. "Who might lose control."
The tension in her features, the way she was fighting some internal battle, none of it was subtle. "Jean, what's happening to you?"
A bitter laugh escaped her lips. "What's happening?" She touched the helmet, her expression going unreadable. Dangerous. "I'm learning what I really am. What I've always been, beneath all the control."
Tyson went cold. This wasn't the uncertain girl who had fled after Times Square. Before he could press further, a smooth voice interrupted their conversation. "Mr. Smith," Emma Frost said, appearing at Tyson's elbow. "I see you've found my guest."
Emma Frost dressed like a woman who wanted you to underestimate her. White corset with intricate silver filigree, the garment revealing more than it concealed. High-waisted shorts of the same white leather, thigh-high boots, platinum blonde hair in an elaborate updo. The outfit might have been designed to draw the eye, but everything about the way she carried herself said otherwise. Perfect posture, chin tilted at just the right angle.
Emma's gaze flicked between Tyson and Jean, her smile never wavering. "Excuse us. I absolutely must speak with Mr. Smith, and educate him on proper etiquette."
Tyson frowned but allowed himself to be led away by Emma Frost. As they moved through the hallways, she spoke low enough that only he could hear. "It's proper decorum to speak with me and introduce yourself before speaking to one of my wards," she explained.
"Fair enough," Tyson conceded. "But now that we're talking, you say Jean is your ward?"
Something shifted in Emma's face, barely perceptible. "She's my guest here. It's proper decorum to speak with me before speaking with her, or propositioning her."
Tyson bristled at the implication. "I was not propositioning her. And I've known Jean longer than you have." He took a deep breath, trying to regain his composure. When he spoke again, his tone was formal, almost overly so. "I'd like to speak with Ms. Grey, with your permission, Ms. Frost."
Emma's smile widened. "No."
Tyson struggled to maintain his polite facade. "Might I inquire as to why not?"
"Because we need to talk first."
They arrived at her office, a spacious room decorated with expensive furniture and artwork that spoke of wealth and refined taste. Emma drew the doors closed behind them. The office was Emma's self-portrait rendered in interior design. White leather, crystal, mahogany; everything selected to project control while inviting the eye to linger. She gestured for them to sit and settled into the opposite chair.
As Tyson sat, Jessica still at his side, Emma's face scrunched up in concentration. Her lips pressed together, frustration visible through the poise.
"Are you trying to read our minds?" Tyson asked directly.
Emma recovered quickly. "I was attempting to get a sense of your intentions," she admitted without shame. "It's a precaution I take with all visitors to my academy."
"Well, you can stop trying. Let's skip to the part where you try to extract information through conversation."
Emma leaned back in her chair. "I've encountered very few minds that could completely resist my abilities. How fascinating."
Jessica sat with one hand in her lap, the other on Tyson. She hadn't spoken since they entered. He knew the look on her face. Her posture was relaxed, deliberately so.
"Ms. Drew, isn't it?" Emma said, turning her attention to Jessica with the same calculating smile. "You're remarkably composed for someone in your position."
"A human among mutants. It can be... overwhelming." Emma's gaze returned to Tyson, the pleasantry dispensed with. "Now. You didn't fly to Massachusetts for the tour. What brings you to my academy?"
"I'm looking for allies," Tyson said. "People who understand that there are threats coming that will require cooperation between different factions."
"How delightfully vague." Emma settled deeper into her chair. "But since you clearly won't elaborate without incentive, perhaps an exchange is in order. You want access to my guest. I want honesty. Shall we trade?"
"Fine. I'll be honest with you if you tell me what's going on with Jean. Why she's different, and why she's still wearing Magneto's helmet."
Emma began, her mental voice crisp and clear. "You want to know about Jean? To understand that, you need to understand me. Lower your shields enough that you can communicate with me telepathically."
Instead of doing as she asked, immediately, Tyson summoned Nexus to his hand. He knew that with all the absorbed psyches, he had stronger mental defenses, and his sword would enhance those further. He lowered his mental defenses created with Magneto's power, which he ran constantly, but kept them active around Jessica, while simultaneously projecting the same thing directly into her mind. It was extra work, but with Nexus, it was manageable.
Suddenly, they were sitting in a lavish mansion. A younger Emma, barely out of her teens, faced off against an older man, her father.
"I was born into wealth," Emma narrated. "The Frost family name opened doors, but it was a gilded cage. My father... he had expectations. For all of us." The scene shifted, showing a series of rapid-fire images. Highlighting Emma excelling in school, developing her mutant powers in secret, and the growing tension within her family. "I was different. Gifted, yes, but not in the ways my father approved of. When my telepathy manifested, I knew I couldn't stay. So I left."
The mental landscape changed again, this time to a dingy apartment. Emma, now alone and clearly struggling, sat on a threadbare couch.
"I had nothing but my wits and my powers." Pride crept into Emma's voice. "Do you know what that's like, Mr. Smith? To build yourself from nothing?"
Tyson nodded. "I have some idea."
"I know you do." The scene around them morphed once more. "I heard whispers about a place. A club where the powerful played their games. I knew if I could get in, I could climb to the top." Her projection's outfit changed, becoming more risqué. "So I played a role. The seductress, the high-class escort. Whatever it took to get my foot in the door."
Images flashed by rapidly. Emma mingling with club members, eavesdropping on conversations, using her powers subtly to gain an edge.
"I let them think I was just another pretty face. All the while, I was learning. About the club, about the members, about the true nature of power in this world."
The scene settled on an image of Emma, now the White Queen, standing at the head of a table filled with Hellfire Club members.
"Impressive," Tyson admitted. "But this doesn't explain Jean."
"Patience." Emma waved her hand, and the illusion shifted. "When I first encountered your Jean Grey, she was already broken. She was powerful, yes, but unstable."
The scene showed Jean, helmet off, with red energy crackling around her.
"I could barely navigate the damaged pathways of her mind without being consumed by what I can only describe as a second influence."
"And Magneto's helmet?"
"The helmet doesn't just block telepathy, it creates a psychic dampening field. For Jean, it's not about keeping others out. It's about keeping herself in."
The illusion showed Emma working with Jean in what appeared to be a therapy session. Jean wore the distinctive helmet, and her posture was more relaxed, more controlled.
"The presence echoes in her mind," Emma explained. "Fragments of a consciousness that threatens to overwhelm her psyche. The helmet helps contain those fragments, gives her space to rebuild her sense of self."
Tyson studied the scene carefully. "You're treating her."
"I'm trying to, but it's delicate work. One wrong move, one moment of lost control, and the other personality could resurface fully. That's why she seems different to you. She's fighting a constant battle just to remain herself, and I'm not sure whether your presence here is going to help her, or make things worse."
The scene around them faded. "Now," Emma said, her tone becoming more businesslike, "I've shown you mine. Your turn, Mr. Smith. What brings you to my Academy with such urgency? And don't tell me it's just concern for an old friend."
Tyson remained silent for a long moment. If Jean was this fragile, this close to losing control…
"You're right," he finally said. "I do know things. Things that are going to happen. Bad things."
"How bad?"
"End of the world bad. In four days."
Emma didn't show surprise. "And you know this how?"
"Because I've seen it, in a premonition, when I absorbed Jean's power. I'm going to fight a battle that I'm going to lose. Half of the world's population will be wiped out if I can't find a way to win. Including your students. Including Jean. Including you."
Emma was quiet for several heartbeats. When she spoke again, her voice was softer, more understanding.
"That's a burden I wouldn't wish on anyone," she said. "But it explains your desperation and why you've shown up now. You're not just trying to prevent a catastrophe. You're trying to atone for one."
"Something like that."
"And Jean? What role does she play in this future disaster?"
Tyson hesitated. "She isn't there. She doesn't fight. Neither do you. But it's not too late to make a difference."
Emma nodded, her expression growing more serious. "Jean Grey is... unique. Her power, her potential, it's beyond anything I've seen. She came to me after what happened in Times Square. She was lost, unsure if or how Xavier had affected her, and beneath it all, scared of her abilities."
"I've been trying to help her, but she won't let me in. We only had one session. I dived into her mind and saw all the walls Xavier erected. It was like walking through a house of mirrors. I'm afraid of the extent to which Jean's psyche is fractured. There was Jean, and there was another part of her. Since then, she hasn't let me back in. She wears that helmet, blocking out the world, but also blocking her powers. It's a bandaid at best. I can't help her if she won't let me. I'm afraid that things are only getting worse the longer she doesn't address them. In the meantime, I've been showing her the realities of the world we live in. The politics, the power plays, all the things Charles Xavier would shield her from."
"She needs to understand how the world truly works," Emma continued. "Xavier's idealistic bubble does mutants no favors when they're thrust into reality."
"What exactly do you hope to gain from exposing Jean to the realities of power and politics?"
Emma's jaw set. "I'm no fool, Mr. Smith. I know you likely assume I have some ulterior motive. The truth is, I was hoping that by being open with her, Jean would begin to trust me. To let me help her. That helmet... it blocks me out completely. The counseling is only a stopgap. I can't make any progress if I can't get inside her mind. Believe me, I've tried." Her tone hardened. "Jean is strong, far stronger than even she realizes. Stronger than me, though it pains me to admit it. I could never force that helmet off, not without her consent. Her mind would retaliate... then any progress would be lost and with it, the chance to help her. But I can't just stand by while her powers spiral out of control. The longer she avoids confronting herself, confronting what Xavier did, the worse it will get. So I've been showing her our world, Mr. Smith. The realities of power, the political games, and the inner workings Xavier shields his precious X-Men from. I hoped that if Jean understood and saw me as an ally, she would open up to me. Let me help her."
Emma paused, studying Tyson's reaction carefully. "That's one of the reasons I wanted to speak with you before you spoke with her. Jean told me about the Inhibitor Collar. If you gave it to her, it would suppress her power and let me get inside her head to see if I can help. At worst, it would keep her from spiraling out of control."
Tyson went cold. "You understand why I would hesitate to collar Jean and let you rummage around in her head? It's not any different from what Xavier did. He did the same thing to me." His voice hardened. "And I'm going to be honest, Ms. Frost, I don't see you standing on any firmer ground than Xavier does. Why should I help you?"
"I've stayed out of your head, unlike him."
"I'm also far stronger than I was when he messed with me," Tyson countered. "To be frank, I've no doubt you would eventually win a mental battle, but not before I could kill you, diamond form or not." He paused, his tone softening slightly. "That's not a threat, it's a fact."
Emma's mouth thinned. "That's the same kind of thinking that Jean has, which is why I'm not making any progress, and her mind is fracturing. Don't you see?" Her voice took on an imploring tone. "Put aside your preconceived notions, and look at what's best for your friend."
"She's deteriorating," Emma pressed. "Every day she refuses help, every day she keeps that helmet on, she's building more walls. The fractures in her psyche are widening. Eventually, those barriers will collapse, and when they do—"
"What's best for my friend is being back with me."
"You're not strong enough to help her," she insisted. "Your illusion power isn't versatile enough for something this delicate. I've spent decades learning to navigate damaged psyches. I've helped mutants who've been broken by trauma, by experimentation, by their own powers turning against them. Jean needs that level of expertise. She needs someone who can carefully dismantle Xavier's work without causing further damage."
Tyson remained unmoved. His future knowledge pressed against him, the memory of Illyana's death still raw. He couldn't afford to trust Emma Frost, not when Jean's stability was so crucial to preventing the catastrophe he'd witnessed.
"No," Tyson said firmly. "If Jean is with me, she can have the collar. I won't leave her to your mercies. If Jean is protecting herself with that helmet, I have to consider that she's doing it for a reason. Frankly, I have no reason to trust you. And my illusions aren't the only options I have to help her. Release Jean to my care."
Jessica shifted her weight. A small movement, but Tyson picked it up.
Emma's body shifted, shimmering as it turned into her diamond form. When she spoke, her tone had gone ice-cold. "Release her? Mr. Smith, Jean Grey isn't my prisoner. She came to me willingly, and she stays willingly. I'm not some villain holding her captive in a tower. You saw her. Did she appear distressed to you? Coerced? She has full autonomy here. She can leave whenever she chooses. She's safe here, which is more than I can say for her time at Xavier's Institute. Tell me, Mr. Smith, where were you when Jean was struggling with her powers? Where were you when she was lost and afraid after Times Square?"
The accusation hit its mark. Tyson's jaw tightened. "She used her power on me. She made me forget. It took me months to overcome her mind control."
"Exactly." Emma's tone softened slightly, but her words remained pointed. "You weren't strong enough to overcome her, which means you aren't strong enough to help her. I was. When Jean needed someone to understand what it meant to have telepathic abilities that could overwhelm you, I was the one who answered that call."
"I can teach her control," Emma explained. "Not suppression, like Xavier did, but actual control. The difference between building walls and learning to open and close doors."
"You can do nothing with her wearing that helmet the entire time," Tyson pointed out.
"And without it, she can't function. The fractures in her psyche run deep. Xavier didn't just suppress her power. He compartmentalized her entire personality."
She dropped her diamond form, returning to her normal appearance. With a gesture, an illusion showed a chaotic swirl of memories and emotions, fragments of consciousness that seemed to war with each other.
"This is what I saw when I tried to touch her mind," Emma said. "It's not just Jean in there anymore."
Tyson's expression grew more troubled. "You said there was another part of her. What exactly are you talking about?"
"I don't know," Emma admitted, and for the first time, she sounded genuinely uncertain. "It's unlike anything I've encountered before. It's not just that. It's like there's also an echo, a resonance of something vast and cosmic. When I tried to probe deeper during our one session, it nearly burned me out. That's when I realized the helmet wasn't just Jean's choice; it was a necessity. Without it, she can't maintain her sense of self. The other presence grows stronger when her powers are active."
"And you think the Inhibitor Collar would help?"
"I think it would give us options," Emma said carefully. "With her powers completely suppressed, the other presence might be quiet enough for me to work on the underlying fractures. But it would require Jean's consent, and she'd have to trust me enough to remove the helmet."
"I'm asking you to help your friend," Emma implored. "Because right now, she's trapped in her own mind, and the longer she stays that way, the more likely it becomes that she'll lose herself entirely."
"And if insist she comes with me?"
"Then you'll be taking a woman who's barely holding onto her sanity into whatever catastrophe you're trying to prevent." Emma's tone went flat. "Is that really what's best for her?"
Jessica placed her hand on Tyson's arm. "You're upset. Relax for a minute. This isn't you." Tyson's next words died. "You wouldn't take Jean against her will, or start a fight in a school. You're the one who ends those fights. You did it at Midtown." She looked between them. "She wants to help Jean. You want to help Jean. But neither of you is actually talking to Jean."
The tension in his shoulders eased slightly. Illyana's death, the coming catastrophe, all of it had been pushing him toward increasingly aggressive positions. Jessica was right. This wasn't how he normally operated.
After thinking about it, he released a breath. "You're right."
Emma watched, recognizing Jessica's influence. She'd defused a situation that was heading toward confrontation. Subtly but effectively.
"Ms. Drew makes an excellent point," Emma said, her tone becoming more diplomatic. "Perhaps we've been approaching this backward. Jean is the one living with these fractures, these walls. She should be the one making decisions about her treatment."
Tyson nodded slowly, some of the desperate edge leaving his voice. "I've been so focused on what I know is coming, on what needs to happen, that I forgot Jean has agency in this."
Emma pressed a button on her desk. "Jean Grey, please report to my office."
The intercom crackled briefly before Emma released the button. The three of them waited in relative silence.
When the door opened, Jean entered wearing the distinctive helmet. There was a confidence in her posture, but also a tension underneath it.
Jean's gaze moved across the room, taking in the scene before she moved to the chair beside Tyson.
"Mr. Smith has some concerns about your wellbeing, Jean. He's also shared some rather urgent information about potential future events."
Jean's attention focused entirely on Tyson, and even with the helmet blocking her telepathic abilities, the intensity of her stare made him feel exposed.
"What kind of concerns?" Jean asked.
Tyson took a breath, trying to organize his thoughts. Everything pressed against him at once. But Jessica's earlier words echoed in his mind. Jean had agency in this. She deserved to know the truth, to make her own choices.
"In four days, something terrible is going to happen. A being called Thanos is coming to Earth. He's going to try to wipe out half of all life in the universe, and I've seen how that battle ends."
Jean's expression didn't change, but her hands tightened slightly on the arms of her chair. "You've seen it?"
Tyson's voice grew quieter, more strained. "I saw the battle. I saw how we lose."
"And you think I can help change that outcome?"
"I know you can," Tyson said, then caught himself. "I mean, I believe you can. But Jean, there's something else. Something I have to tell you, even though it's going to hurt."
His composure was cracking. Everything he'd held together since the bus stop bench was threatening to come apart. His eyes grew wet as he struggled to find the words.
"Illyana is going to die," he said, and the words scraped out of him. "No matter what I do, no matter how I try to change things, I can't stop it. I've already lost Jubilee. I've lost Illyana. And without your help, I might die too, and even if I survive, I could still lose everyone else."
Nobody spoke. Jean's careful control slipped, just slightly. For a moment, Tyson caught a glimpse of the Jean he remembered, the compassionate woman who felt others' pain as deeply as her own.
"Tyson," she said softly, and there was genuine concern in her voice. "I'm sorry. I know how much they meant to you."
"There isn't much time," Tyson continued, his voice growing more urgent. "We only have hours to decide. I know it's not going to be long enough to help you, to fix what Xavier did. But I need your help. I know I'm being selfish. I was supposed to only come to you after everyone was safe, to respect your wishes about staying away. But no one is safe, and I can't fix it alone."
He looked directly at her, his eyes still wet with unshed tears. "I need you, Jean. I've always been strongest when you've been there."
Jean was quiet for a long moment, her gaze moving between Tyson and Emma. "You're asking me to leave the only place where I feel safe," she said, and there was both Jean's compassion and something harder, more pragmatic in her tone. "To walk into a battle that you've already seen us lose. To risk not just my life, but my sanity. But you're also telling me that people I care about are going to die if I don't help. That the world might end."
"Jean," Emma interjected gently, "you don't have to decide right now. We can discuss the options, weigh the risks."
But Jean held up a hand, her attention still focused on Tyson. "No, Ms. Frost. This isn't about weighing options. This is about whether I trust him enough to risk everything."
She stood, moving to the window and looking out at the grounds where other students were going about their daily routines, unaware of the conversation taking place above them.
"You say you need me," Jean said without turning around. "But what you're really asking is whether I'm willing to sacrifice my stability, my safety, for a chance to save others. Whether I'm willing to become the weapon you need me to be."
Tyson shook his head adamantly, the desperation in his voice giving way to something fiercer, more protective. "No, never that. You're not a weapon. You're my friend." He paused, his voice catching slightly. "I wanted to help you remember? You wouldn't let me. I still want to help you. I've gotten better. I have a way to channel my psionics, making them stronger, more focused. Combined with your power, I think I can make a difference. Yes, I'm asking for your help, and for you to sacrifice, but I'll protect you. And I'll do what I can to help you. Isn't that what I've always done?"
Jean turned from the window, and when she looked at him, there was something different in her expression. The compassionate Jean he remembered was there, but underneath it was an edge.
"Yes," she said simply. "To your own detriment. In Vegas, I had to stop you from sacrificing yourself for Jubilee against her wishes. It's why I came here. Because I knew this was what it would become. You're going to try to save the world, and save me, too. And if you can't find a way to do both, you'll sacrifice yourself so you can."
"Tell me I'm wrong." She stepped closer. "Tell me that you don't have some hidden trick or plan or means to save me, that would hurt you to achieve."
Jessica's eyes were on him. Emma's calculating gaze, too. But Jean's stare was the one that mattered. She wasn't asking rhetorically. She was waiting for his answer, and somehow, he knew that his response would determine everything that followed. He opened his mouth to deny it, to reassure her that he had everything under control, that he could save everyone without cost. But the words died in his throat.
"It wasn't my plan, or what I intended. But there is an object of immense psychic power that I encountered," he said slowly. "I don't have it now, but I know I'll encounter it again. It should have the power to fix your mind. I didn't intend to rely on it and hope to find another way."
"Because?" Jean prompted, and there was something almost predatory in the way she waited for his admission.
Tyson sighed. "Because if I use it, it's going to try taking over my body."
Nobody spoke. Jessica's hand tightened on his arm in concern. But Jean's expression didn't change. If anything, she looked almost satisfied, as if he'd confirmed something she'd already known.
"And there it is. You would sacrifice yourself, not just for everyone, or to stop this threat. You would do it for me. If I let you."
Tyson wanted to deny it, to argue that he had other options, that he wouldn't be so reckless as to try to use the Mind Stone on his own again. But they all knew the truth. He would if it meant saving Jean, even if it destroyed him in the process.
Emma finally broke the silence. "Mr. Smith, perhaps we should discuss these other options you mentioned. Surely there are alternatives to such a drastic measure."
But Jean held up a hand, her attention still focused entirely on Tyson. This time, the gesture was imperious, commanding in a way that was distinctly unlike the Jean he remembered.
"No," Jean said without looking away from Tyson. "This is exactly what I expected. This is who he is. Who he's always been."
She moved closer, close enough that the conflict was impossible to miss. The helmet might block her telepathy, but it couldn't hide the war being fought within her own mind.
"You can't help yourself," she continued, and there was both affection and frustration in her voice. "You see someone in pain, someone you care about, and you'll burn yourself to ash if it means easing their suffering. It's what makes you a hero, and it's what makes you dangerous to yourself."
Jessica shifted beside him. "Jean, he's not the same person he was. He's learned to be more careful, to think things through."
Jean's laugh was sharp. "Has he? Because from where I'm standing, it looks like he's planning to walk into a battle he knows he can't win, all in the hope of saving people who might not be saveable. It's the Institute all over again. It's Times Square all over again."
"That's not fair—" Tyson protested, but Jean cut him off with a look.
"Isn't it?" she asked. "Tell me, Tyson. If using this object was the only way to save Illyana, to save everyone, would you hesitate?"
The memory of Illyana's death, the sight of her disintegrating into golden light, flashed through his mind. The pain was so sharp, so immediate.
"I..." he started, then stopped. Because they both knew the answer.
"Exactly," Jean said, and there was something almost gentle in her voice now. "You would use it without a second thought. You would let it consume you if it meant protecting the people you love."
Emma watched the exchange, fascinated despite herself. Jean was reading Tyson with devastating accuracy, not with telepathy but with simple understanding.
"This is why I trust you," Jean said finally. "Because I know that when everything falls apart, when the world is ending, and everyone else has given up, you'll still be fighting. You'll still be trying to save people, even if it kills you."
She paused, her gaze moving to Jessica, then to Emma, before returning to Tyson.
"And that's also why I know I can't let you face this alone," she continued. "Because left to your own devices, you'll find the most self-destructive solution possible and consider it heroism."
Jessica squeezed his arm. "She's right, you know."
The room fell silent again. She understood him. Maybe better than he understood himself.
But something in Jean changed in that moment. Tyson couldn't name it exactly; the helmet blocked any psionic read, and her face had been carefully managed for the entire conversation. But her shoulders dropped an inch. Her hands, which had been gripping the chair arms since she sat down, opened. Her breathing deepened, slowed. She closed her eyes for two seconds. When she opened them, the green was clearer than it had been since he'd arrived, as if someone had wiped fog from a window.
"I'm in."
Tyson blinked, certain he'd misheard her. Even Emma, who prided herself on reading people, looked genuinely taken aback.
"You're in?" Tyson repeated.
Jean nodded, and for the first time since entering the room, she looked entirely like herself. The fractured edges, the careful control, the warring aspects of her personality seemed to align.
"I'm in," she confirmed.
Emma leaned forward in her chair. "Jean, perhaps you should take some time to consider this decision. The risks—"
"The risks are exactly why I'm doing this," Jean interrupted. "Ms. Frost, you've spent months trying to help me understand the fractures in my mind, the walls Xavier built, the presence that's growing stronger. But you've been approaching it like a problem to be solved in isolation."
She turned back to Tyson. "But isolation isn't the answer. It never was. The walls, the suppression, the careful control, all of it was built on the idea that my power, that I, was something to be contained. Something dangerous that needed to be managed."
Jessica spoke up. "Jean, that's not what anyone is saying. We all know you're not dangerous."
Jean's smile was sad but knowing. "Aren't I? But here's what I've realized. The danger isn't in my power. It's in the fear of my power. Every wall Xavier built, every suppression, every careful barrier was constructed out of fear. Fear of what I might become, what I might do, what I might lose control of."
She gestured toward the window, toward the students moving across the grounds below. "And that fear is what's been feeding the fractures. The more I try to contain it, the more unstable it becomes. The more I hide from it, the stronger the other presence grows."
This wasn't the broken woman who'd fled to Massachusetts. This wasn't Emma's patient. This was Jean Grey making a choice.
"So you're saying the solution is to embrace the danger?" Emma asked, her clinical tone not quite hiding her concern.
"I'm saying the solution is to stop being afraid of myself," Jean replied. "And the only way to do that is to face something real, something that matters. Something worth the risk."
"Tyson, you need me to help save the world. I need something worth fighting for, something that justifies taking down the walls and facing whatever is waiting behind them."