Arc 7 - Ch 6: The Final Piece Falls

Chapter 89

Arc 7 - Ch 6: The Final Piece Falls

Date: Monday, August 29, 2011.

Location: Midtown, Manhattan, New York

The New York skyline blurred as Spider-Man and Spider-Woman swung through Manhattan. The wind whipped past them, carrying the sounds of the city, car horns, distant sirens, and the ever-present hum of millions of lives in motion.

But Peter Parker heard none of it. His entire focus was on the figure swinging ahead of them.

His imposter clutched Gwen Stacy to his chest as he fled.

"We have to catch him!" Peter shouted to Spider-Woman, the urgency in his voice cutting through the rush of air. "Before he—" He couldn't finish the sentence. The memory of Gwen's father's death haunted him still. He wouldn't let history repeat itself.

Jessica nodded grimly, understanding. She angled her body, picking up speed as they pursued their quarry through the streets. The chase led them higher and higher, past office windows and high-rise apartments.

As they rounded the corner of a glass tower, their target came into view. The Empire State Building loomed before them.

"He's heading for the top!" Spider-Woman called out.

The higher they went, the more dangerous this became for Gwen. But Peter pushed the fear aside, focusing on the next swing, the next move, anything to close the gap between them and Kaine.

With a final, powerful leap, Kaine landed on the observation deck of the Empire State Building. He scrambled up the side. In moments, he reached the peak of the spire with Gwen clutched precariously in one arm.

Peter and Jessica landed on the observation deck, their muscles coiled and ready for action. But Kaine's position made any sudden moves too risky.

"That's far enough," Kaine called down.

Peter held up his hands, "Don't do this. Don't hurt her again." he pleaded.

Gwen's eyes were wide with terror, but there was determination there, too, a refusal to be broken by fear. "Peter," she called out, her voice trembling but strong. "Whatever happens, this isn't your fault. Remember that."

"Isn't it, though?" Kaine sneered. "If it weren't for him, I wouldn't exist. This is all on you."

Peter took a cautious step forward, his hands still raised. "You're right," he said, surprising both Kaine and Jessica. "If I am responsible for your existence. Then this is on me. But Gwen? She's innocent in all this. Your quarrel is with me. Let her go."

For a moment, doubt flickered across Kaine's face. But it was quickly replaced by a manic grin. "Let her go? If you insist..."

He loosened his grip, and Gwen slipped an inch. Peter's heart stopped, his body tensed to spring into action.

"Stop!" he shouted, desperation clear in his voice. "Please. I'm begging you. Don't do this."

Jessica edged closer. "Think about what you're doing," she said, "This won't solve anything. It won't ease your pain."

Kaine's laugh was bitter and hollow. "Pain? You know nothing of pain. Of being a failed experiment, discarded and left to rot. Of watching the world move on without you, everyone getting their happy endings while you suffer. Or are you starting to understand now? Jessica. How did it feel to be abandoned? To come back to have everything in your life gone again? How does it feel that they wanted me and not you? That I have people, and you're alone?"

Peter searched for the right words to defuse the situation. "I can't imagine what you've been through. But this? This isn't the answer. Hurting Gwen won't make your pain go away. It'll only add to it." He took another careful step forward. "Let me help you, please."

Peter's heart pounded as a heavy silence fell over the rooftop, broken only by the mournful whistle of the wind.

"Help me?" He laughed bitterly. "You had everything I ever wanted. A home. Friends. Family. And yet you still managed to screw it all up." His words grew increasingly frenzied. "You're losing her. Tyson is betraying you. You were blind to the blessings you had."

Kaine's face twisted into a snarl. "I'd rather none of you had her."

With those final spiteful words, he threw Gwen away from the spire.

The world seemed to slow to a crawl as Kaine tossed Gwen. For a heartbeat that felt like an eternity, she flew horizontally through the air, her blue eyes wide with terror, locking onto Peter's mask. Then gravity took hold, and she began to plummet towards the unforgiving concrete below.

"No!" Peter cried as he launched himself off the Empire State Building. Every fiber of his being screamed at him to move faster, to defy the laws of physics themselves if that's what it took to reach her.

Jessica was right beside him, also diving headfirst after the falling Gwen. The wind whipped past them, carrying the fading echoes of Gwen's scream.

But Kaine wasn't done. He fired off two precise web shots. The sticky strands caught Peter and Jessica squarely in the back, halting their descent with a brutal jerk that knocked the wind from their lungs.

Time seemed to stretch as Peter watched Gwen fall further away, her blonde hair whipping around her face like a golden halo.

With a roar of frustration and fear, Peter clawed at the webbing on his back. His enhanced strength allowed him to rip through the material, but those few seconds felt like an eternity. Beside him, Jessica did the same.

They dove again, pushing their bodies to the absolute limit. The ground rushed up to meet them, but now the distance between them and Gwen was heart-wrenchingly vast.

Peter's mind raced, calculating angles and velocities with the speed of desperation. Eight seconds was all it took to fall from the top of the spire to the ground…

And four had already passed.

He knew he couldn't reach her in time, not physically. But maybe his webbing could. Peter fired off a web line. It streaked through the air, stretching towards Gwen's falling form.

From her position slightly to the side, Jessica saw what Peter couldn't. The trajectory of the web, the speed of Gwen's fall, the rapidly approaching ground…

It all added up to a horrifying conclusion: The web would reach Gwen, but it was far too late to stop her momentum safely.

"Wait!" Jessica cried out, but her words were torn away by the rushing wind. She could see what he refused to accept… what the speed of Gwen's fall meant. But desperation and denial had pushed his reason aside.

Peter watched in agonizing slow motion, the image searing into his mind. The web arced gracefully against the backdrop of the concrete below. He took in every agonizing detail: the way her blonde hair whipped wildly in the rush of air, the dawning realization in her eyes that his rescue attempt had failed, and, surprisingly, the look of acceptance, not terror, that settled on her face.

Then Gwen looked away. Her body twisted in the air, causing his hastily shot webline to sail past her falling form, missing Gwen by less than an inch.

His one desperate shot had missed?

"No!" The cry was ripped from his soul.

Spider-Woman's earlier warning rang in Peter's ears. Now, the cold reality set in. There would be no miracle rescue, no last-second feat of superhuman powers to cheat death. Gravity had claimed its prize, and he could only bear witness. Helpless, Peter watched his greatest fear play out. He was unable to save the woman he loved from her fatal plunge.

Peter desperately fired another webline. But deep in his heart, he knew it was already too late. He tried pouring on more speed. But the laws of physics cared nothing for his desperation.

And all Peter could do was watch as tragedy unfolded before his eyes.

But then Gwen's turn became a controlled spin, her body rotating until she faced away from the pursuing heroes. Her right hand shot out in a familiar gesture that made Peter's heart skip a beat.

Impossibly, incredibly, a webline fired from Gwen's wrist.

The thin strand of silk attached itself to the side of the Empire State Building. Gwen's fall transformed into a graceful arc, her body swinging around the corner of the iconic skyscraper with mere feet to spare from the unforgiving ground below.

Peter's mind reeled, and he could not process what he saw. This couldn't be real. It had to be some illusion. Had Tyson somehow caught up to them, or maybe Peter had finally cracked under the pressure and was hallucinating?

But Jessica saw it, too. Her sharp intake of breath confirmed that this was no figment of Peter's imagination.

Both heroes looked back to the top of the Empire State Building, but the imposter was nowhere to be found.

They adjusted their trajectory mid-air, using their own web-swinging skills to round the corner in hot pursuit of Gwen. The busy streets of New York blurred beneath them, pedestrians pointing and shouting at the aerial spectacle unfolding above.

Gwen's swings carried her two blocks before she released her webline, executing a perfect flip before landing gracefully on the roof of a lower building. Her chest heaved with exertion, and her blonde hair whipped around her face in the wind, but she was unmistakably alive and unharmed.

Peter and Spider-Woman touched down moments later as they struggled to reconcile what they had just witnessed.

"Gwen?" Peter's voice cracked as he took a hesitant step forward, his hand reaching out to verify she was real and not some cruel mirage. "How... what... I don't understand."

"I'm sorry, Peter," she said softly. "I wanted to tell you. I tried to tell you..."

Jessica stepped forward, relief evident in her voice as she wrapped Gwen in an embrace. "I was so worried. I'm glad you're okay."

The awkwardness between Gwen and Peter was replaced by awkwardness with Spider-Woman as the unfamiliar hero embraced her. The blonde patted Spider-Woman's back, clearly uncertain how to respond. "Uh, thanks, Spider-Woman," she said, confused but appreciating the new hero's care for her well-being.

At her uncertain tone, Jessica remembered that she wasn't Peter. They had never dated. While Jessica cared deeply for Gwen, the other woman had no idea who she was. Embarrassed by her slip, Jessica stepped back abruptly. "Well, I'll leave you two alone then," she said hastily. "Tyson might need my help."

Before either Gwen or Peter could get another word in, Spider-Woman fired a web line, swinging rapidly away over the rooftops, putting distance between herself and the awkward encounter as quickly as possible.

"How long?" Peter asked, "How long have you been like this?"

Gwen's gaze dropped to the rooftop, unable to meet Peter's eyes even through his mask. "Since the night my father died," she admitted. "When I woke up... I'd changed."

"Why didn't you tell me?" The hurt in Peter's voice was palpable. "I could have helped you. We could have figured this out together."

"I was scared, Peter! I didn't understand what was happening to me. And then, when I figured it out, you were too busy being Spider-Man and distancing yourself from me. What was I supposed to do? I was afraid of how you'd react."

"What about England?" Peter asked hesitantly.

Gwen's blue eyes met his, filled with a sorrow that made Peter's heartache. "I almost died today. That's the second time the imposter has come after me. What if he catches me with the rest of my family?"

The unspoken words hung in the air between them…

'What's left of my family.'

Peter felt them as clearly as if she'd said them. The weight of everything Gwen had lost: her father, her sense of security, and the life she'd known before. Memories flashed before his eyes. Captain Stacy's brutal treatment at the hands of the imposter, waking up in the hospital, not knowing if Gwen was safe, watching her fall from the building minutes earlier, and knowing that he couldn't save her.

"You're right," he said, the words tasting like ash in his mouth. "You've sacrificed so much already, Gwen. Your father, your peace of mind... and now this." He gestured vaguely, encompassing the city around them.

Gwen's eyes shimmered with unshed tears, but her voice was steady when she spoke. "I don't regret any of it, Peter. Not loving you, not gaining these powers. But..."

"But it's too much," Peter finished for her, his heart breaking even as he said the words. "It's not fair to ask you to keep living with this constant threat hanging over you. Over your family."

They stood silently for a moment, the city's distant hum providing a melancholy backdrop to the scene unfolding between them. Peter was filled with conflicting emotions. Love, fear, guilt, and an overwhelming desire to protect Gwen, even if it meant letting her go.

"I love you," Gwen said suddenly, her voice cracking slightly. "I need you to know that. This isn't about not loving you enough or not being willing to face dangers with you. It's about..."

"It's about what's best for you," Peter finished, reaching out to cup her cheek gently. "And as much as it kills me to admit it, maybe what's best for you… isn't me."

Gwen leaned into his touch, her eyes closing briefly as she savored the moment. When she opened them again, there was a steely resolve there that both broke Peter's heart and filled him with pride.

"England will be a fresh start," she said softly.

Peter nodded, fighting back the lump in his throat. "You'll be amazing, Gwen. You already are. England doesn't know how lucky they're about to get."

She smiled sadly. "I'll miss this," she said, gesturing to the city around them. "I'll miss you. But I think... I think this is something I need to do. For myself, for my family, and maybe even for you."

Peter's brow furrowed in confusion. "For me?"

Gwen nodded, reaching up to place her hand over his, where it still rested on her cheek. "As long as I'm here, as long as we're together, you'll never stop worrying about me. You'll never be able to fully focus on being the hero this city needs you to be. And Peter... the world needs Spider-Man."

The truth of her words hit Peter like a physical blow. He had always known, deep down, that his responsibilities as Spider-Man would demand sacrifices. He just never imagined the sacrifice would be this great.

Gwen's smile was gentle, tinged with both sadness and pride. "Don't make that face. You're the strongest person I know, Peter Parker. And you won't be alone. You have Tyson, your Aunt May, and now Spider-Woman, I guess."

"When do you leave?" Peter asked, his voice muffled against her hair.

Gwen pulled back slightly. "The interview is tomorrow. If I get the scholarship, I'll fly out in a few days, maybe a week or two."

They stood there for a long moment, foreheads pressed together, neither wanting to be the first to let go.

— Rogue Redemption —

Tyson stood over Magneto's body. The once-mighty Master of Magnetism lay still. He raised his hand, splaying his fingers wide. At his silent command, the metal debris scattered across Times Square began to stir. Shards of steel and rebar defied gravity as they answered his call. A new sense unfurled within Tyson's mind. He could feel every piece of metal around him, from the most enormous girder to the tiniest nail. The cool smoothness of aluminum, the dense weight of iron, and the malleable softness of copper. Each metal had its unique flavor, a combination of smell, taste, and touch that transcended normal human perception.

At his gesture, and the metal around him sprang to life. Girders, beams, pipes, and rods floated into the air, directed by his will. He sifted through the debris, pulling any scrap of metal to him while pushing aside the rest. Soon he had separated the metal from the non-metal debris. His power sang as it controlled the swirling cloud of iron, steel, and aluminum. Scoops formed from curved steel plates and scraped up chunks of broken concrete, tossing them into a growing mound. He could sense the weakened structures of nearby buildings, where the battle had torn away vital support. Carefully, he guided the floating metal back to its original position. Beams slotted into place while smaller pieces fused seamlessly to repair cracks and holes.

As he worked, Tyson marveled at the power of magnetism. The power was intoxicating, and for a moment, he understood the commanding arrogance that led Magneto down his dark path.

But Tyson shook off that dangerous line of thinking.

Construction crews would have spent days moving the debris and repairing the metalwork, but Tyson completed the task in a few minutes. As the last piece of metal settled, a strange hush fell over Times Square. Then, a smattering of applause began from the crowds that had gathered at the edges of the battlefield. It grew quickly, swelling into a thunderous ovation.

"Way to go, Mirage!" someone shouted, using his discarded codename.

"You showed 'em, kid!" called another voice filled with unmistakable New York pride.

"Tyson! Tyson! Tyson!" The chant started small but spread like wildfire through the crowd.

Tyson stood there, surprised by the outpouring of support from the crowds gathered at the edges of Times Square. He had been so focused on the fight, consumed by his rage and grief over Jubilee's death, that he had almost forgotten about the people he was supposed to protect.

The crowd's cheers and chants washed over him, but he felt no joy or sense of celebration at that moment. This was no victory. Jubilee, his lover and most trusted friend, was dead by Magneto's hand. He failed her when she needed him most. The applause roared on around him, but all Tyson could hear was the ringing emptiness of his failure.

Tyson had killed Magneto.

The mutant terrorist who had hunted him since the moment he arrived in this world was finally gone. But Magneto's death meant little now. It did not bring Jubilee back or fill the aching void her loss had left within him. Magneto's end was a hollow victory, meaningless in the face of Tyson's grief and guilt. The crowd's cheers faded into the background as the enormity of his failure to save the one person who had truly mattered consumed him.

Logan stepped up beside Tyson, his gruff voice cut through the haze of emotion. "Hey, kid. I'm sorry about Jubilee."

Tyson only shook his head, unable to find words.

Logan hesitated, his eyes darting to Magneto's still form. "Is he?" he asked, leaving the question hanging.

"Dead?" Tyson finished, his voice hollow. "Yes. It's done."

Across the square, flanked by Cyclops and Storm, Xavier's voice rang out. "Why? You didn't have to—"

Tyson cut him off, raising Muse and pointing the blade directly at Xavier. "The part of me that's Erik still thinks of you as a friend. Another part of me wants to thank you. Because despite how fucked up messing with my head was, you weren't completely wrong. I have built a sense of self strong enough to remain the dominant personality in my own mind. I'm in control, not Magneto."

His voice grew lower and more dangerous. "The rest of me really wants to teach you a lesson about playing around in other people's heads."

Xavier's eyes widened as he stared at the weapon. Tyson opened his fingers, releasing the blade. It hovered in the air, inching closer to Xavier with ominous intent.

The bald professor wisely announced, "X-Men, it's time we take our leave."

As the rest of the team turned to follow, Logan remained rooted at Tyson's side, exuding quiet solidarity. Storm paused, glancing back with an unspoken question lingering in her blue eyes.

Logan shook his head. "I think the kid needs me more than the school," he rasped, "I wasn't much of a teacher anyway." A silent exchange passed between them in that suspended moment.

Tyson caught it though. He looked at Logan surprise. "You don't have to do this for me," Lowering his voice, he muttered. "She's a goddess. I'll manage."

Logan let out a derisive snort. "What, don't you have room in your theater for one more?" Storm gave one last lingering look, then followed the others.

Despite himself, Tyson choked out a laugh at Logan's retort. He fully comprehended the sacrifice his friend was making by choosing to stand by him rather than pursue things further with Storm. Foolhardy as Logan's choice may have been, Tyson appreciated the display of loyalty more than words could express.

Their small moment of levity was interrupted by the arrival of a group of soldiers wearing uniforms emblazoned with the distinctive SHIELD emblem. Nick Fury strode at their head. Maria Hill and Steve Rogers flanked him with grim expressions as they surveyed the area.

Tyson knelt beside Magneto's body, removing the mutation inhibitor collar.

Steve Rogers was the first to break the tense silence that had fallen over the group. He regarded Tyson with genuine sympathy as he spoke. "Sorry about your girl," he said, his voice low and sincere.

Tyson glanced up, meeting the super soldier's compassionate gaze. Though his jaw was tight with suppressed emotion, he gave a short, appreciative nod in response. "Thanks," he replied after a moment, his own tone clipped but not ungrateful for the sentiment. He looked away, unable or unwilling to maintain the contact. His throat worked as he swallowed hard, grief and anger warring within him. The others waited silently, respectfully, as Tyson composed himself.

Fury's one good eye swept over the scene, taking in the damage. "Quite a mess you've made here, Agent Mirage," he said, his voice betraying neither approval nor condemnation.

"The mess was going to be made one way or another, Director. At least I tried to clean it up. And didn't have to take a missile to the face to stop him."

Steve's forehead creased with concern as his brow furrowed. "What do you mean missile to the face? Is that a phrase that became popular while I was frozen?"

Shaking his head, Tyson replied, "Magneto constructed a weapon capable of mutating an entire city's population. That's what he meant when he said he could change the world with me. I was the final component he required. As a contingency, I have a tracking device in me. If he succeeded in capturing me, the building would have been bombed." Logan grumbled, displeased. Pivoting to face him, Tyson stated plainly, "You survived a nuclear blast. I ought to be able to shrug off an explosion designed to level a city block."

Fury held up a hand, drawing their attention. "What's done is done. What matters now is containment and information gathering." He fixed Tyson with a penetrating stare. "I assume you absorbed Magneto's powers and memories?"

Tyson nodded slowly. "I did. It will take me some time to parse all the memories and make them part of me. But I have some information that I need to take immediate action on. Magneto kidnapped my assistant, Felicia. I need to get her back... And he wasn't lying about the mutants living in the sewers. I need to do something about that."

"What about the mutants that escaped?" Fury asked.

Tyson used Magneto's knowledge to identify each member of the Brotherhood and recite their abilities. "Vanisher can teleport himself and small groups, plus he's got invisibility. No known distance limitations." He ticked off his fingers. "Avalanche can create localized earthquakes. Pyro controls fire, but can't generate it himself. Callisto's got mutant sensing abilities and limited superspeed. Arclight creates shockwaves that can target specific objects or broad areas. Pietro, Quicksilver had superspeed, and his sister Wanda used magic. The green-haired mutant that didn't do much was Lorna, and she had the same power as Magneto. Toad was basically a supersoldier with frog-like abilities. Last was the Juggernaut, the massive guy, unstoppable, superstrong."

"Some of them were hurt. They likely retreated into the sewers where they're holding Felicia. I'm going after her. If they're still there, I'm taking them down."

Fury's face soured, lines deepening around his mouth. "That's still a lot for you to take on alone." He eyed Tyson speculatively. "How many more of those collars do you have?"

"Just this one, but I'm working on it." He paused, considering. "With Magneto gone, I can stop them."

"Are you sure?" Fury asked skeptically.

Tyson walked over to where he'd piled the bodies of all Multiple Man's dupes and removed a helmet. He handed it to Fury. "It blocks psionics. Have your eggheads look at it. I'll give one to Stark, too. If they hadn't worn these, I could have easily taken the whole group myself."

Fury accepted the helmet, nodding approvingly. "Alright, Agent Mirage. I'll leave this in your hands. Two conditions. First, Deputy Director Hill will accompany you at House of M for a few days to ensure everything goes smoothly. Second, when everything is settled, I want you to come in for a psych evaluation. You should've had one when you were brought on as a consultant, and now it's only prudent given your condition."

Tyson mumbled, "Why does everyone keep sticking me with babysitters?"

"Not a babysitter," Fury objected. "Think of Hill as training wheels to help keep you on the straight and narrow. You took down a mutant terrorist on live television. That will earn you a lot of credit with some people and make you a target for others." His expression softened a fraction. "But good work today."

Tyson nodded in a single, curt acknowledgment. Then he turned to Hill and said, "Deputy Director, it'll be good to work with you again," he asked, "Where's my buddy Max?"

"Safe. We've got him in our headquarters; we'll send him in one of the vans back to House of M. We should move out soon." A fleet of SHIELD transport vehicles rolled into view as if on cue, and agents began to pour out.

Tyson's gaze was drawn to the spot where Jubilee died. The pavement was cracked where Magneto had pinned her to the ground, but there was no trace left of her.

Fury's voice cut through Tyson's reverie. "We'll need a full debrief."

Tyson nodded, forcing himself to focus on the present. "Right. I'll do my best to sort through it all. It's... jumbled right now. Like trying to remember someone else's dream."

"Take your time," Hill said, "I'll be at your site for a few days."

— Rogue Redemption —

As he approached the SHIELD van, a familiar voice called to him. "Tyson!"

He turned to see Jean running towards him, Without hesitation, Tyson pulled her into a tight embrace.

"Jean, I'm so sorry," Tyson's voice cracked as he spoke, the words feeling woefully inadequate. "I couldn't save Jubilee. I tried, but I... I wasn't fast enough."

He felt Jean's body tense against him, a tremor running through her as she processed his words. When she pulled back, her green eyes were wet. "It's not your fault," she said softly. "I was there too. I should have been able to do something, anything. She was my roommate, my friend, and I couldn't..."

Jean's words trailed off, choked by emotion. Tyson squeezed her shoulder gently, understanding all too well how she felt. "Let's head back," he suggested gently. "We can talk more in the car."

But Jean shook her head. "No, Tyson. I can't go back. Not yet. There's something I need to tell you first."

Tyson's brow furrowed in concern. "What is it?" he asked.

Jean's gaze darted around the empty lot as if checking for eavesdroppers before focusing intently back on Tyson. "I saw what the Professor did to you… In your mind. I've undone it. Unlocked your subconscious."

"You..." he managed to ask. He took a deep breath, centering himself. "Thank you," he said finally, the words feeling woefully inadequate for what she had done. "For undoing what he did… For freeing me."

"I need... I need to know exactly what he did. To me." Jean's words hung between them.

Tyson's brow furrowed with concern. "I can help," he offered gently. "Whatever's going on, we can figure it out together."

But Jean was already shaking her head, taking a step back, putting distance between them. "I appreciate the offer, Tyson. I do. And I know you're strong, but... I need someone stronger. Someone who can navigate the depths of the psyche in ways you can't."

His heart sank as he realized what she was saying. "You're leaving." The words were simple yet felt so heavy.

Her expression was filled with sadness. "I'm going to Massachusetts. There's a woman there, the one who helped the Cuckoos. She might help me understand what's been done to my mind."

A psychic in Massachusetts... It had to be Emma Frost. The name rose unbidden to the surface of Tyson's thoughts, bringing a swell of conflicting emotions. His metaknowledge told him that she was certainly powerful, but what he remembered of her methods and motives was questionable at best. Still, if anyone could unravel the depths of Xavier's psychic manipulation, it would be her.

"Are you sure about this?" Tyson asked finally, unable to keep the naked concern from his voice.

Jean's answering laugh was hollow, tinged with a bitterness that seemed out of place coming from her. "I need answers. And if that means letting another psychic root around in my head, well..." She trailed off, her gaze distant. "It can't be any worse than what's already been done to me."

Her eyes glistened with unshed tears as she looked at Tyson. "I don't want to leave. Not like this. Not after everything that's happened."

"Then don't," he said softly. "Stay. Help me save Felicia. We can mourn Jubilee together."

His words struck a chord deep within Jean. She closed her eyes, fighting back the tears that threatened to spill. "God, I can't believe she's gone."

"IThat's why we need each other now more than ever."

Jean opened her eyes, meeting Tyson's gaze. She saw the pain there, mirroring her own. Although they'd reverted to their normal blue-green colors now that he wasn't using the vampiric dagger, they still had that broken appearance. His eyes still looked like weapons. For a moment, she wavered. The desire to stay, help, and grieve alongside her friend was almost overwhelming.

"Felicia needs us," Tyson continued, "We can't abandon her. And... I need you, Jean. Your strength, your compassion. Please."

His words tugged at her heart, making her decision even more difficult. Jean bit her lip, torn between her desire to stay and the urgent need to uncover the truth within her mind.

"Tyson, I care about you," she said, her voice trembling. "And Jubilee... God, I miss her already. The thought of leaving now, of not being here... it kills me." She paused, taking a shaky breath. "And Felicia... I want to help her. I do. But..."

Jean trailed off, struggling to find the right words. How could she explain the urgency she felt, the desperate need to understand what had been done to her mind?

"But what?" Tyson prompted gently.

"But I'm scared," Jean admitted. "I'm terrified of what I might find out about myself, about what's been done to me. And I'm even more afraid of what might happen if I don't find out." She wrapped her arms around herself as if trying to hold herself together. "I feel like I'm being torn in two," she continued, her voice cracking. "Part of me wants nothing more than to stay here, to help you, to grieve. But another part... it's screaming at me to go."

Concern etched across his features. "I get it, Jean. I do. But are you sure this is the right time?"

Jean shook her head, frustration creeping into her voice. "There's never going to be a right time, Tyson. There's always going to be a crisis, always going to be someone who needs help. But if I don't do this now, I'm afraid I'll lose my nerve." She looked up at the sky, blinking back tears. "I feel like I'm being selfish, putting my own needs first. But I I feel like I have to. Like if I don't do this now, I might never get the chance again. And that terrifies me even more than leaving."

Tyson reached out, placing a comforting hand on her shoulder. "You're not being selfish, Jean. You're trying to protect yourself, to understand who you are. That's important, too."

His words, meant to comfort, only made Jean feel worse. She could see the pain in his eyes, the silent plea for her to stay. It made her decision all the more agonizing.

"I'm so sorry, Tyson. I feel like I'm abandoning you when you need me most."

"Hey," Tyson said softly, "Chin up. You're not abandoning anyone. You're taking care of yourself. That's important, too. If I didn't have to get Felicia, I'd drive you myself." His words, kind as they were, couldn't completely assuage Jean's guilt. She could feel tears welling up in her eyes again. She threw her arms around Tyson, hugging him tightly. For a moment, she allowed herself to sink into the comfort of his embrace. But reality intruded all too soon. Jean pulled back, wiping at her eyes. "I should go," she said softly. "If I don't leave now, I'm not sure I'll be able to."

Tyson's grip on Jean tightened. "I really don't want you to go. We need each other right now."

Jean's eyes glistened with tears. "You're making this so hard," she said, her voice trembling. She nearly relented, not wanting to leave him. But then she felt the tug, the pull from within her mind, the same one that kept her from being overwhelmed by his emotions.

Let. Me. Go.

Jean hesitated for a moment, her gaze fixed on Tyson's face before asking, "Will you take off the helmet?"

Tyson blinked, suddenly aware of the weight on his head. He'd forgotten he was still wearing Magneto's helmet. He reluctantly released Jean from their embrace, reaching up to remove the headpiece. He placed it on the ground beside them before pulling Jean close again.

As they locked eyes, Tyson felt a gentle probing at the edges of his consciousness. Jean's power was seeking entrance into his mind. He relaxed, allowing her in. Jean's tension seemed to melt away as their psychic connection deepened, both of them opening up to each other in a way that transcended words. Jean's feet left the ground as she hovered. She rose up, leaned in, and pressed a soft kiss to his forehead. Tyson braced himself for the pull of his life-draining power, but it never came.

His eyes widened in surprise. "How?" he asked.

A small, sad smile played at the corners of Jean's lips. "You're not the only one who can use illusions."

Tyson let out a choked laugh. "You're pretty good. I couldn't tell the difference."

"It's not as natural for me as it is for you," Jean admitted, "but like you said, I'm strong."

"You don't need to go," he pleaded, "I can absorb your power, we'll take it slow. I'll be able to help you…" He opened his mouth to continue pleading with her to stay, but his words died in his throat as a tear ran down Jean's cheek and she spoke.

"Stop Fighting Me."

Jean's psychic power crashed into his mind with the force of a roaring tsunami. His defenses were lowered, leaving him vulnerable to the full force of her abilities, which far surpassed his own. Helpless against the onslaught, Tyson staggered under the intensity of her telepathic assault. Her ability burned through his thoughts with a blistering intensity, putting his powers to shame. Tyson's jaw snapped shut with an audible click as Jean's telepathic command overwhelmed his attempts at speech. He stood frozen as her psychic tendrils wrapped around his mind in an unbreakable hold. He never had a chance to try resisting her mental domination before she had him completely at her mercy.

With a pained expression, Jean stated firmly, "I need you to prioritize yourself and your friends first. Don't worry about me. Don't even think of me until you all are safe."

She took a deep, steadying breath, her eyes never leaving his. "Now tell me you understand."

"I understand," Tyson repeated.

Jean let out a choked sob, the sound filled with equal parts relief and anguish at having to compel him in this way. She knew if left to his own devices, he would save Felicia, then without a second thought, disregard everything else to ensure her safety.

As much as it pained her, Jean knew Tyson had a critical role to play, no matter the cost to herself. He had become a symbol for mutants around the world. Whether he realized it or not, and after the televised battle, the attention he'd draw and the scrutiny would only increase.

Her heart broke at having to resort to this, but her will remained strong.

It had to be this way.

She stepped away from Tyson, ending their embrace. Bending down, she picked up the discarded helmet and turned it over in her hands.

As she reached the edge of the lot, Jean paused, looking back one last time. Tyson stood stiffly where she'd left him. The sight nearly broke her resolve. She gave him one last smile over her shoulder. A complex mix of emotions played across her face as she headed towards Penn Station.

"I'm sorry," she whispered, though she knew he didn't register her words.

Tyson stood there for a long moment, watching the spot where Jean had vanished. He blinked twice, clearing his mind. There was an uneasy feeling in the pit of his stomach, which refused to dissipate. Something about this whole situation felt wrong, off-kilter in a way he couldn't quite put his finger on.

As he finally turned back to the SHIELD van, Tyson was a bundle of conflicting thoughts and emotions. The revelation about Professor Xavier's manipulations, the grief over Jubilee's loss, and the concern for Felicia's well-being. It all swirled together into a toxic cocktail of anxiety and doubt.

As the SHIELD van moved through the Manhattan streets, Tyson sat in silence, barely registering the agent's attempts at small talk. His mind was a whirlwind of conflicting thoughts and emotions, replaying the day's events on an endless loop. The van pulled to a stop, and he stepped out onto the sidewalk in front of the House of M.

Maki was there to greet him. Before he approached, he took a deep whiff, ensuring that her scent was normal and not carrying any hints of Mystique. Tyson pushed aside his turmoil to focus on the immediate tasks at hand. "How did things go here?" he asked.

She fell into step beside him as they walked towards the entrance. She reported. "It was Wednesday who first noticed you were on the news. We immediately jumped into action when you called for the Plastic Protocol." He felt a flicker of pride that his team had performed well in his absence. "The fake Felicia realized something was wrong," Maki continued, her tone darkening slightly. "But I tranqued her before she could react. She's still under sedation."

"Good work. I'm going to rescue Felicia. But first, I need you to set up a room for my buddy Max. Be nice to him, and remember his name. Call Dr. Connors and tell him that break time is over. I need him here to help Max and to ensure Mystique remains properly sedated. Then, please set up an area for SHIELD Deputy Director Hill. Do not be antagonistic in any way. Accommodate her as well as possible." He paused, organizing his thoughts. "Allow full transparency except for Dr. Connors's lab; that's off limits. I'll speak with her extensively, but Felicia takes priority. I need a minute to myself, and then I'll leave with Logan. Actually, after I leave, just give her my office. That's easier."

Maki's eyebrows raised slightly at his choices, but she didn't question his decisions. She nodded, already turning to carry out his orders. "Understood. I'll see to it immediately."

As Maki headed off, Tyson felt a pang of... something. Guilt? Unease? He realized he'd immediately treated Maki like Felicia, relying on her ability to handle the complex situation. This realization left a bitter taste in his mouth. Felicia's absence was a gaping wound, and he was unconsciously trying to fill it with the nearest available substitute.

The events in Times Square had been a very public display of mutant power and conflict. There would be consequences, questions to answer, and damage control to manage, all of which would fall on him. He didn't have Felicia; he only had Maki, a Hydra agent. Jesus. Life was so much easier when he was just a student at Midtown High, making occasional appearances as a hero, dating Felicia, and flirting with Natasha.

Tyson pivoted on his heel and marched back to the vans. He selected two of the helmets stripped from Multiple Man's fallen duplicates after the battle, and placed one on his head. The other he brought with him as he headed for Vanko's lab.

The lab was empty. Tyson dropped off the duplicate of Magneto's helmet and continued on. Maki caught up to him after leaving the lab. "Dr. Connors estimates he'll arrive within the hour."

Tyson nodded absently. Finally, he looked up to meet Maki's gaze. "Good work. Mystique?"

"Still sedated but stable," Maki replied. "Though I'm no doctor."

"You've done excellent work, Maki," Tyson said sincerely. "You've been invaluable. I know I'm leaning on you, and I want you to know I truly appreciate everything you've done."

Maki's usually stoic expression softened almost imperceptibly, surprised by his words. "Thank you, Tyson. That means a great deal to me."

As she turned to leave, Tyson called out, "When this is finally over, when Felicia has returned... I believe it is time we discussed our respective roles."

The barest trace of a smile tugged at the corners of Maki's mouth. "I agree," she replied simply before continuing down the hall.

He reached his office, closing the door behind him with a soft click. Usually, he spent more time in the VIP lounge, but he wanted a few minutes to himself. For a moment, Tyson leaned against the wood and closed his eyes.

He breathed deeply, trying to center his thoughts.

The room smelled faintly of exotic incense, dusty ancient stone, and an enticing floral perfume.

His eyes shot open.

He wasn't alone.