(no subject)
Jean Grey.
She was brought to the Mansion not long after I arrived. Or rather not long after Professor Xavier brought me to the Mansion.
Up until that point I was shy, reclusive and I had every reason to be just that way. Without falling into self-pity--
I'd been isolated as a child. All I ever heard was that I was brain damaged, and that I shouldn't be adopted. When I finally had a foster family they were killed.
It was intentional. It couldn't be anything but. Unfortunately for him since I had no attachments and no reason not to run when my mutation manifested-- I ran.
I ran until Professor Xavier and the FBI caught me.
So I stayed. He seemed nice enough, I was happy enough but I had no intention of opening up. There was no need to. He was an amazing telepath then as well.
Unfortunately it didn't suit his purposes for me to be shy and withdrawn. And he'd learned from Sinister's mistakes. He needed to give me something to bind me here, to keep me from running.
Of course he knew what it was I wanted and needed most. The best thing to give me to keep me with him, and to make me want to work for this Dream of his.
Family.
Enter Jean Grey. Beautiful, sad, and... mine? There for me at any rate.
With Charles taking on an almost paternal role with both of us, and talking to me, telling me about the Dream, the Dream for mutants to be able to have normal lives, to marry to have children, to go about their business without fear--
It's hardly a surprise that I bought it hook line and sinker.
His first X-man. Defending the rights for mutants to have families and be treated as normal people.
Think about that. For just a moment.
It's sheer genius on his part.
He'd given me what I wanted desperately, then pointed me at the threat to what I had so recently gained.
17 years old, full of fury and the desperation, and the rest, as they say is history.
Cyclops was born.
It's ten years later and I've learned a few things.
About the boy I was and the man I am.
I've also learned that there is a difference between duty and love.
And that the dream isn't mind.
Ten years--
And I still can't run.