[80] Midnight Confessions

Chapter 80: Midnight Confessions

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The guest room at Xavier's Institute was nicer than anything I'd ever stayed in before. Plush carpet beneath my feet, a bed that practically swallowed you whole, and enough space that you could do cartwheels without hitting furniture. Yet despite the luxurious surroundings, sleep evaded me completely.

I stared at the ornate ceiling, watching shadows play across the surface as tree branches outside danced in the moonlight.

My mind refused to quiet down, cycling through the day's events like a broken record. The second Jean, Madelyne Pryor, was just the beginning of something much bigger and darker. Mister Sinister was making his move. In the original timeline, his plans had nearly torn reality apart.

And then there was Gwen. The hurt in her eyes when she realized I'd gone to rescue Charmcaster without her, the way she'd avoided me during dinner, choosing to sit with Kitty Pryde instead. We needed to talk, and postponing it would only make things worse.

The digital clock on the nightstand read 1:17 AM. Definitely not an appropriate time for a conversation. But then again, when had I ever done things the appropriate way?

With a sigh, I pushed myself up and pulled on a t-shirt.

The hallway was dimly lit with small recessed lights along the baseboards, probably for the benefit of students who might need to navigate at night. I padded quietly down the corridor, counting doors until I reached Gwen's room. I took a deep breath, raising my hand to knock, then hesitated.

What exactly was I planning to say? 'Sorry I slept with the sorceress who betrayed your trust and stole your magical artifacts'? Real smooth.

But Charmcaster's advice to hide this from her felt wrong. Gwen deserved honesty, even if it meant she'd hate me for it. Because one day or another, she’d find out by herself, and the results would be much worse.

I gently rapped my knuckles against the door.

No response.

I knocked again, slightly louder. "Gwen? It's me. I know you're awake."

I actually didn’t know. But I could see the faintest sliver of light beneath her door. She usually turned her lights off before sleeping.

"I know you can hear me," I continued, leaning my forehead against the cool wood. "And I get that you don't want to talk to me right now. But there are things I need to say. When else will we get this chance?"

Silence stretched between us, punctuated only by the distant hoot of an owl outside.

"Look, I messed up. Not just by going to Limbo without you, but... Gwen, I was with Charmcaster. I slept with her." The words hung in the air like lead. Some might say it was a stupid move, but I had a feeling rage bait would work on her.

I waited for any reaction.

The door yanked open so suddenly I nearly fell forward. Gwen stood there in pajama shorts and an oversized t-shirt, her hair slightly disheveled, eyes blazing with fury.

Her hand connected with my cheek in a slap that echoed down the hallway. I wasn’t surprised.

"Jessica... I understood why you had to go to her that day," she hissed, voice low but intense. "But you keep acting like this. What's the point in anything then?"

I rubbed my stinging cheek, glancing nervously down the corridor. "Can we maybe have this conversation inside? This is literally a school full of telepaths and people with enhanced hearing."

She glared at me for a long moment before stepping aside with a frustrated huff. I slipped into her room, closing the door behind me.

Gwen immediately turned away, muttering weird words under her breath while making a complex gesture with her fingers. A faint purple glow rippled across the walls before fading.

"Concealment spell," she explained curtly. "Now speak."

Her room mirrored mine in layout but was already personalized with a few touches, her laptop on the desk, a notebook filled with what looked like magical notations, and a small framed photo of our family that I recognized from the Rust Bucket.

I sat on the edge of her bed, trying to gather my thoughts. The best way to approach situations like this was by insulting myself. "I'm an idiot," I began. "A complete and total jerk who doesn't deserve your time or attention."

"Go on," she said, arms crossed as she leaned against the desk.

"This whole thing with the watch, with aliens, with suddenly being able to be a hero... I didn't expect any of it. And I definitely didn't expect the attention I'd get because of it." I ran a hand through my hair. "But here’s the thing. I… care about Jessica, I genuinely do.”

“....”

“She was the first person who saw me as more than just a kid with a watch, you remember? She’s an adorable girl.”

Gwen's expression grew more stony.

"And Charmcaster, Hope, she's a broken girl. In ways I can't even begin to describe. She's spent her entire life focused on revenge, with no one who cared about her. When she was at her lowest point, her most vulnerable..."

"You decided to comfort her with your dick?" Gwen supplied, voice dripping with sarcasm.

I winced. "That's not how I'd put it, but essentially, yes. And I'm not proud of it. I'm not proud of any of this."

"Yeah? Sounds like you're making excuses for yourself. You don’t have to lie, I know men are proud of juggling multiple women’s interests. It’s in their biology, I don’t blame you for it. Right?"

It was a bait. "Gwen, I'm trying to explain why I'm so messed up." I looked up at her, feeling completely lost. "And also admitting that I can't keep doing this to you. What I keep doing… I keep wronging you. You deserve better than someone who can't seem to keep it in his pants. Someone who keeps hurting you."

Her eyes narrowed dangerously. "What are you saying?"

"I'm saying that maybe we should stop…” I braced myself for what was to come, taking a huge risk with my words. “Whatever this is between us. You can find someone better, someone who won't–"

The second slap was even harder than the first. Even though I’d expected it.

"So now you're just throwing me away because you find me too troublesome?!" Gwen's voice rose despite the concealment spell. It hurt to hear her say that, but I didn’t actually mean what I offered. I’d probably kill any dude she might talk to.

I was making a very risky play here, but if it worked out in the end, then… So far, this talk was going exactly the way I wanted it to go.

Everything was following the plan.

"That's not what I meant…" I muttered.

Any other girl, I’d never go this far for. But this was Gwen. My Gwen. I could reach around and build up wicked plans to have her.

"Are you stupid, you bastard?! Men, men, you fucking men! How can guys be this slow?! It’s simple! Just give me more priority!" She shouted, hands clenched into fists at her sides. "When did I ever ask to date you, you rude bastard? Our families would kill us if we did that, you know that, I know that! We both know how... complicated our situation is. But I still love you. Don't you understand?"

The admission hit me hard. Despite everything that had happened between us in the forest, hearing her say those words aloud made my heart stutter. Despite having planned this talk, I hadn’t expected these words from her.

"But I know that we... can't really be together in the normal way," she continued, her anger not diminishing. "So I was long mentally prepared for you to run and see others as a front, namely Jessica. But that doesn't mean I don't get jea… jealous, alright?! How do you think I felt when you were hanging out with Charmcaster so much, when you went against Grandpa to get her into our team the first time, how do you think I felt when she clung to you and you just ignored me to give her all the attention?!"

She stepped closer, jabbing a finger into my chest. "I've known you for all your life, I don't care if you have a hero syndrome or therapist fetish and want to fix up all these weird girls, but you BELONG to me first of all! Don't you get it?!"

I felt heat rush to my face at her possessive declaration. It didn’t suit me to blush like some kid, but somehow that’s exactly what happened. Something about the way she said all these – fierce, uncompromising, absolutely certain – made my heart race.

Gwen noticed my blush and suddenly seemed to realize what she'd said. Her own face turned crimson. "See what you made me say…! Now I'm embarrassed! T-this is all your fault!"

"I'm sorry," I said, reaching for her hand. "I'm really, truly sorry. And I promise I'll make it up to you."

Before she could respond, I pulled her closer, pressing my lips against hers. She made a small noise of surprise but didn't push me away. Instead, her hands came up to grip my shoulders as I gently backed her toward the bed.

"This is your way of making it up to me, smartass?”

“Hey, it’s a start,” I said. “I promise to always give you priority, too. Among other things. So stay quiet and part your lips again.”

“No! No way," she protested when we broke apart, breathless. "We can't do this here. We'll get found out! It's too risky, even with the sound block spell."

I couldn't help but laugh. "Where else if not here? I haven't gotten to properly touch you since that day because Grandpa's always been there, and then we got caught up with Selene and Charmcaster."

I kissed her again, more insistent this time, one hand sliding beneath her t-shirt to trail up her side. "Besides," I murmured against her lips, "don't you want to collect what's yours?"

That was a cheap shot, using her own possessive words against her, but it worked. Her resistance crumbled as she melted into my embrace, pulling me down onto the bed with her.

"You're so reckless," she whispered, but there was no real anger left in her voice as her fingers tangled in my hair.

As moonlight spilled through the window, casting silver patterns across her skin, I set about showing her exactly how much she meant to me, consequences be damned.

****

When I returned to my room, riding the emotional high of reconciliation with Gwen and other stuff, I immediately noticed something was off. The door was slightly ajar, a thin strip of light spilling into the hallway.

I'd definitely closed it when I left.

Cautiously, I pushed the door open, half-expecting to find Wolverine or Cyclops waiting to lecture me about sneaking around at night. Instead, I found Jean Grey, or rather, her doppelgänger, sitting on the edge of my bed, her red hair falling like a curtain around her face as she stared at her clasped hands.

She looked up when I entered, her green eyes rimmed with red from crying. "I'm sorry for the late hour," she said softly. "I didn't know who else to talk to. Storm’s already sleeping… and even then, if she heard what I have to say…"

My good mood evaporated instantly. "It's alright," I said, carefully closing the door behind me. "Can't sleep?"

"You could say that." She attempted a smile that didn't reach her eyes.

"Want some water?" I offered, moving toward the small kitchenette in the corner of the room. Every guest suite at Xavier's was equipped with basic amenities, another indication of the school's hefty endowment.

"No, thank you." She watched me as I poured myself a glass, her gaze unsettlingly intense. "Something happened tonight. Something... scary."

I took a seat in the armchair across from the bed, keeping some distance between us. Not out of fear, but caution. "What kind of something?"

Jean – Madelyne – took a shaky breath. "I had a psychic attack. At least, I think that's what it was. There was a voice in my head, showing me images, telling me things..."

"What kind of things?" I asked, though I had a sinking feeling I already knew.

"That I'm not real. That I'm a clone, created for a… for a purpose." Her voice broke on the last word. "There was a man with pale skin and a red mark on his forehead. Mister Sinister… He called me his 'creation.' His 'failure.'"

Mister Sinister. Nathaniel Essex. One of the most dangerous mutants in existence, a genetic manipulator obsessed with the Summers-Grey bloodline. In the comics, he'd created Madelyne Pryor as a clone of Jean Grey, designed to bear Scott Summers' child.

"I think I'm losing my mind," she continued, tears welling in her eyes. "What if they're right? What if I'm not Jean Grey? What if I'm just... a copy?"

The desperation in her voice was heartbreaking. I genuinely felt bad. And this wasn’t one of those situations where I could go Four Arms and punch to fix her. This wasn't some comic book villain; this was a woman whose entire identity was unraveling, who was being psychologically tormented by one of the most twisted minds on the planet.

She looked up at me, her tear-streaked face illuminated by the soft lamplight. "If I'm not Jean Grey... then who am I?"

And there it was, the question I'd been dreading. The moral dilemma that had been building since the moment the second Jean appeared at the mansion gates.

Do I tell her what I know? That she was indeed a clone, created by Mister Sinister for his eugenic experiments? That in another timeline, she'd been driven to madness and nearly destroyed reality as the Goblin Queen?

Or did I continue to pretend ignorance, let events unfold as they might, and only interfere when I think it matters?

Unfortunately, there was no instruction manual for this kind of situation. Unfortunately, I had a feeling that neither option would matter in the end.

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