The beginning…

Honestly, the place was bigger than she thought it would be. 

Paige Guthrie caught her breadth as she looked upon it, the Massachusetts Academy, Charles Xavier's new School for Gifted Youngsters.  Or, to be exact, his new School for Mutant Youngsters, youngsters like herself.  The next stage in human evolution.

Special.

She had been dreaming about this moment for most of her adolescent life, long before her own powers had manifested, ever since her oldest Brother had escaped the Guthrie home to live a life of adventure, too make a difference. Paige would often stay awake at night, shining a torch beneath her blankets, reading his letters home for the hundredth time, wishing that the life he lead was her own.

Wishing that she could be what he was already becoming, what he had, now, already become.  An X-Man.  The very thing that Paige Guthrie had been born to be, or so she liked to believe, or so she liked to dream.

The very thing the X-Men were founded on.

She wasn't there yet, not even as she walked through the wooded estate with a purpose unmatched by any other attending this most private of schools.  Not as she adjusted her backpack across her shoulders as best she could, both of her hands occupied with a bulging suitcase each.  Not as she passed each structure and building, burning the layout of the Estate too memory as she passed each one, her unwavering path leading her directly for the central complex.

Not even after she had officially enrolled at this most special of schools.  No, she wasn't an X-Man yet, but she was going to be, and this, the class of Generation X, was her stepping stone.

Paige came to a stop, setting down at suitcase at either side, taking a moment to gaze upon the massive double doors before her.  The gateway to a new life and the means to reach her full potential, everything she had dreamed about just a mere four steps away.

It was bigger than she thought it would be, awfully big to accommodate the half a dozen students she knew about.  Perhaps she had been mistaken, Paige considered to herself, lightly chewing her lower lip in thought, perhaps there would be more.  Perhaps there would be many more, perhaps she was to be but one among many hundreds.

It didn't matter, Paige easily concluded, tying her long, blonde hair back into a pony tail and straightening up her clothes in short order.  Six or six hundred, it made no difference, she was still the best and brightest, she would lead by example, she would be a model student, hard working and dedicated.  She would show the X-Men how much they needed her; she would show them how much she was worth.

She was Paige Guthrie, she was gifted, and this is where Gifted Students went.

Picking up a suitcase in either hand once more, her formidable sense of determination returning a hundred fold, the girl marched forward, passing the double doors and entering a world that only dreams were made of.

The middle…

Paige Guthrie tried not to laugh, she really did, but some things just couldn't be helped.  She laughed and then covered her mouth too stop herself, she failed, the amusement in her eyes saw to that.

She stood at the edge of the ditch, or as close as she deemed was safe, her hair tied back while the red of and gold of her uniform was battered and stained with dirt and grime.  She was shattered, both physically and mentally, like most of her class mates she was feeling the effects of Mr. Cassidy’s sudden increase of their physical regime, clearly she wasn't as fit as she liked to think she was.

Apparently none of them were.

She was going to have to fix that.

For the time being she had other problems, or, to be exact, someone else did, which is why she had backtracked her way through the Danger Grottos obstacle course to the here and now.  Which is why she had found herself amused when she shouldn't be, which is why she found herself face to face with the object of her affections.

Mr. Cassidy’s new course had been hard, but they had all made it, well, most of them had done, all but one.  Jonathon Starsmore was too busy lying at the bottom of a ditch; unceremoniously half buried beneath what Paige suspected wasn't entirely...mud.  Apparently the respective School Principles had opted to populate the Danger Grotto with some larger animals than when she had last checked.

*Cheers Gel* Jonathon’s telepathic tone grumbled through her mind, the moody Englishmen caked from head to toe in something that shouldn't be identified.  He was sodden with it, lying on his back at the bottom of the shallow pit, pinned down by the foulest smelling dirt he had ever encountered.

"Ah'm sorry" Paige finally stopped laughing at his misfortune, bending down onto her padded knees and extending a hand too help him up.  "But y'all never be an X-Man like this you know?"

*Ah, well...* Jonathon reached out and clasped her smaller hand with his own. 

*Good job then...* the two of them strained as the duo worked to both pull and drag the young Psionic from his muddy grave, finally wrenching him free with a loud pop. 

*...I don't give a toss!* Jonathon admitted sourly as they both tumbled to the ground, the sudden shift in momentum knocking them up and over onto the harder dirt, side by side.

"Y'all don't mean that!!" Paige slapped his arm; she never could understand why her fellow students didn't share her enthusiasm.  How could they not want to be X-Men?  How?

*Maybe* Jonathon shrugged uncommitted, his brow grimacing as his back complained.  He didn't fail to notice the frown that fell across the features of his girlfriend, the note of disappointment in her eyes, the same disappointment that reflected whenever he didn't strive to be all that he could be.

Damn.

*Cheers* Jonathon broke the silence, taking her hand in his once more, it was probably a good thing that she was wearing gloves, considering the crap that covered his own. 

*For coming back*

"Y'all welcome" Paige made a small smile whilst getting back up to her feet, her red and gold uniform now a little more stained by dirt and grime, helping the object of her affections up too his feet in turn.

"What was yer time Gel?" Jonathon asked, resisting the urge to run a hand through his foppish, chestnut fringe.  He didn't give much of a sod about his own, and yet he knew Paige took pride in her achievements, that she always strived to improve them.

To be the best that she could be.

"Ah don't know yet..." Paige admitted with a shrug, still clasping his larger hand with her own, gently squeezing his fingers and looking a little sheepish.

"...ah came back for y’all before ah finished".

The end…

Paige Guthrie tried to gasp and yet she lacked the air to do so.  Her very lungs seemed to instantly collapse the moment the diamond shelled bullet penetrated her chest, shattering her ribcage and all but obliterating her heart.  It happened in the fraction of a moment, an explosion within her body, splintering bone, tearing flesh and rendering her organs to paste.  One bullet, one shot, one moment, and everything was undone.

Everything.

She died within that moment, Paige Guthrie standing at the brink of the abyss, fired upon by her own teacher in a single moment of madness.  An accidental shot, an unintended target, an eternal consequence.  She was dead within that moment; she just didn't know it yet.

She stared wide eyed at the wound that had pierced her chest, a chasm buried in her torso that was weeping crimson.  She stood on unsteady feet, her hands shaking and she mumbled something incomprehensible, her command of any language entirely gone.  She could form no coherent thought, she could make no complex understanding, she could only stand and stare at the very wound that had killed her.

She could only stand and stare, until she could stand no more.

Strength deserted her, her legs failed her, and the girl collapsed on bended knees, her joints cracking against an unforgiving ground.  She mumbled and cried, her fingers cramping into awkward fists as she looked to those around her.  She cried and she fell, pleading too those she loved too save her.

Darkness descended long before she crumpled to the ground, her limbs lifeless yet convulsing, twitching to the fickle whims of a failing nervous system.  She reached out to those would try to catch her, tumbling into the dark of an endless night, drowning in a sea of blood that was her own, plummeting to the stuttering beat of a dead heart.

She reached out, flailing in the dark, searching for a single spark to guide her, a single light to find her.  She reached out, in that final moment, her body still and lifeless, her mind slow and laborious; she reached out for the final thought that she could find, a final thought before oblivion.

A final thought that was not her own.

...Now.

Somehow she didn't remember running being this painful.

She knew this route by heart; the path that lead around the outer reaches of the Estate, she must have done it a hundred times, two hundred, she must have done it countless times.  Each morning, every morning, first thing in the morning, she would run, rain or shine, snow or sleet, she would run, it was built into her muscles.  A memory burned into every fibre of her being, it was in her blood.

Her blood, her muscles, her body, which is what brought her too her current problem.  Paige Guthrie wasn't in her body, she occupied another one entirely, one that wasn't as adept at running as she was used too, one that enjoyed the almighty cheeseburger a little too much.

Her lungs were burning, protesting loudly with deep, shuddering breadths, her every running step sending a searing javelin of pain through her side.  The stitch that had gripped her torso refused to abate, the pain only growing more intense, despite her best efforts to run through the torment, reaching from her hip too the bottom of her ribcage.  She was breathing glass, tiny beads of razor wire sliding down her throat and slicing through her tender organs.

Onwards she persisted, pushing the body she found herself in beyond its endurance, a body unfamiliar with being tested too its limits.  She pushed on through the familiar sights and sounds, those that greeted her each and every morning; onwards she pushed beyond all that seemed the same...and past that which was not.

So little had changed, and yet, so much as well.

More than she imagined possible.

Finally she stopped, barely past the halfway point of her planned morning jog, her taunt and ragged muscles refusing to take another step.  The body she occupied was launching a revolution, one beating to the drums of her ragged lungs and rapidly beating heart.  She stopped and waited, hands on hips as she breathed in the sweet, sweet air, filling her torso with the oxygen it greedily demanded, loudly inhaling deep and painful gasps.

She stopped and waited for her body to recover, too regain some sense of stamina, she stopped and looked at where she had found herself.  She stood before the front gates, a set of golden archways diligently guarding the gravel driveway she stood upon, one that was adorned by a single embezzlement.  It was a golden plaque, well polished and engraved, recently replaced to reflect its new status.

Once, as she remembered it, the name 'Massachusetts Academy' took its pride of place, pride that now belonged to another.  Pride that now belonged to the 'St. Croix Estate'.  Paige gently ran her fingers down the smooth and shimmering surface, the tips running into the tiny grooves that etched the new name in place.

So much of this place was the same, just as she remembered yesterday, and yet so much of it was not.  So much of it had changed, in a hundred, tiny different ways.  So much of it had changed, and she was but one.

Paige Guthrie silently gazed upon the reflection that greeted her, the one that shimmered upon the golden plaque before her.  It was a face that she was familiar with, or at least she was the eyes, a face she wished too see more than any other, if only she could do so from her own.

It was not her face that stared back at her in the shimmering reflection, just as this was not her body that Paige had pushed beyond its endurance.  This was not her face, this was not her body, she was not even entirely certain that this was indeed her soul.  It was the face of Jonathon Starsmore that stared back at her in the shimmering reflection; it was his body she had stolen.

If only she knew how she had done it.

After removing her hand from the golden plaque before her, eyes unflinching from the reflection that stared back at her, she brought her fingers to the face that was not her own.  She gently ran her fingers across the chin she hadn't known, morning stubble scraping against her tips.  Paige closed her eyes and waited in the brisk, morning breeze, quietly whispering to the only one who could hear her, the only one who would always hear her.

"Lord...if ah only knew how too give it back..."

*Paige...*

The girl trapped in the body of another suddenly opened her eyes as the phantom voice cut through her thoughts.  For a moment she wished, she prayed, she almost believed that it was the telepathic call of one she knew so well...and yet she knew already it was another.

*Paige dear...*

The teen almost felt compelled to tilt her head as the telepathic tone of Monet St. Croix called too her from deep inside the estate, almost as if she could hear that phantom voice on the wind itself.

*It's time to come inside, our guest has arrived*

Jean Grey was no stranger to resurrections, as a matter of fact she should add it too her resume, 'Death not a hindrance, mild inconvenience', but she had too admit, this was not a call she had been expecting to receive.  If she was entirely honest, as she was often compelled to be, this wasn't the call she had wanted to receive, at least, not as the first.

The first woman of the X walked with purpose, her mane of fire red hair tumbling along her shoulders with every step, keeping pace with the young woman at her side as she was lead deeper into the Mansion.  Monet St. Croix, former X-Man and wealthy daughter of a respected family, the new master of this Estate.  From out of the blue she had seemingly returned, casting off a self imposed exile and buying up the vacant land.

They had noticed, of course, even with the demands the new, expanded school made on their collective time.  The X-Men had noticed full well the return of one of their children.  They had noticed and they had waited, allowing both time and space for bridges to be rebuilt.  No call came, at least, not until now.

Jean was not disappointed that the young woman had called for their help, indeed, there was no question that she would give it, but rather, it was because she needed help that a call was made.  Monet St. Croix had returned from across to sea too within reaching distance of her extended family, she had even gathered former students like herself around her, but it wasn't until a time of need that the road was once again open.

She would have preferred the reunion between the X-Men and their children to be under happier circumstances.  Or at the very least less complicated.  The extended family of the X never just 'mingled' anymore, when had they forgotten how to do that?

When had they stopped wanting too?

"...my thanks for coming so soon".

The refined and polite tone of Monet St. Croix snapped Jean Grey from her private revere, the young woman not faltering in her own, poised and purposeful strides.  The comment was sincere, and yet the slant of tone suggested a note of irritation, Monet was not accustomed too relying on the good will of others, it wasn't in her breeding.

Or perhaps, Jean Grey considered, the young woman didn't want it to be.

"Thanks aren't necessary, but you're welcome..." the red head smiled sincerely, her emerald eyes echoed reassurance "...we want to help, in any way we can". 

Monet made no immediate response, and yet Jean did not always need Telepathy too read another’s thoughts.  The young woman at her side was biting her tongue, however cordially she was hiding it.  Considering Monet's collective experience with the X-Men, it perhaps wasn't a surprise.  That didn't mean it wasn't something that needed to be worked on, divides within the family was not something she liked to see.

"Would it be prudent of me too assume that you have been discreet?" Ms. St. Croix questioned, a slight arch of her brow accompanying her chosen tone.

"The others know I’m here..." Jean Grey answered, this once choosing to ignore that chosen tone "...but nothing beyond a cordial visit".

After a moment of private consideration, Monet made a slight nod to confirm her satisfaction.

"Although I must admit..." Jean continued, opting too be forthright with her opinion "...I don't like leaving Sam in the dark, he would want to know about this".

"Yes, well..." Monet began somewhat sharply, clearly less than pleased to have her judgement questioned.  It was, however, for but a moment, her thoughts of indignation stumbling over understanding, a shared feeling with the young man in question.  Monet was no stranger too concern shared between siblings, or the thought and terrible pain of losing one.

"...I understand" her features softened, the first time since the arrival of red headed X-Man, a moment of humanity breaking through the girls shield of polished refinery.

"But this is at Paige's request..." Monet confirmed, explaining the nature behind her own "...these circumstances are difficult, and, at best, entirely in doubt".

For but a moment Monet paused, in both word and stride, turning too the senior telepath, former team mate and the woman she had called for help, a woman she hoped could help her save a friend.

"Paige does not want her family to live through her death a second time..."

"They won't..." Jean's demeanour took a stance that brooked no doubt. 

She couldn't claim to know, she wouldn't claim to know, what the outcome of all this would be, but the possibility of Paige Guthrie loosing her grip on life for a second time simply wasn't an option.

For Sam's sake, for her family’s sake, even those not joined by blood, that simply wasn't an option.

"...and neither will you".

Paige was growing to hate this place, it wasn't that she was spending far too much time here; it was what it reminded her of.

She found herself back in the medical wing of the St. Croix Estate, sat upon the very bed she had awoken upon just days before, her mind and soul trapped in someone else’s body.  It hadn't been a pleasant experience, returning from the dead in a haze of confusion and fear, being thrown back into the world of the living after drowning in the abyss of oblivion.

But that wasn't what this room made Paige Guthrie think about, it wasn't the clear and recent memory of being shot in the chest, it wasn't the final moments of her life being torn from her body.  It didn't make her think of herself at all, it made her think of the body she now in habituated.  It reminded her of the scar that now wrinkled the side of Jonathon’s skull.

She could feel it, the jagged stitch of flesh that stretched the width of his cranium, the eternal reminder of the bullet that had cracked the bone and so very almost splintered the mind it protected.  Jonathon almost died from that bullet, he still may be dead because of it, and the thought of that...

It was a thought that she could scarcely bring herself to live with.

"Would you chillax already?" young Ms. Jubilation Lee insisted as she returned too Paige's bedside, a glass of water in hand.  "Jean is like, totally cool, she'll sort this out no problem".

Paige managed a small smile, accepting the glass of water from her friend despite lacking any desire to drink it.  Her unusual return from the dead had caused quite a stir within the estate, her former class mates quickly descending with questions and uncertain hope.  Of all of them, however, Jubilation had scarcely left her side.

Well, hers or Jono’s...Paige wasn't rightly sure.

"Ah'm sorry..." she apologised, not for the first time the tongue she now found herself with tripping over her, unfamiliar, southern accent.

"Ah just...this is all so weird..." Paige admitted, setting the glass aside without taking a single sip, failing to notice the slight frown that folded Jubilations lips "...ah don't know what to think...Ah’m supposed to be dead!"

"Well duh!" young Ms. Lee rolled her eyes "Yer also supposed to be a girl, so lets leave the obvious stuff too Angelo ok?"

“Ok, deal…” Paige nodded after a moments thought “…although…”

“What?” young Ms. Jubilation Lee questioned with hands on hips.

“Ah was just thinking…” Paige began to chew her bottom lip, an old habit that seemed out of place on someone else’s face.

“What if…what if maybe…” she tried to elaborate, moving to tie her hair back into a pony tail, a mane of shoulder length, blonde hair that the body of Jonathon Starsmore simply did not possess.  Paige ceased the nervous habit the moment she realised she was grasping nothing but thin air.  She sighed in frustration and yet continued.

“What if Jean finds out ah ain’t Paige…what if ah’m still Jonathon…” Paige felt the need to lower her voice to a suspicious whisper.

“What if ah just…flipped mah lid?”

“Then imma kick yer butt” Jubilation Lee stated.

“What?” Paige sat up with a start, somewhat taken aback from her friends sudden bluntness.

“Yer heard me…” young Ms. Jubilation Lee waved a cautionary finger “…I have considered this to be possible, and I decided if yer have just lost yer nut Mr. Starsmore…imma kick yer lanky English Butt…again”.

“Y’all can’t do that!!” young Paige was aghast “Ah’m sick!!”

“Sorry, Justified butt kicking” Jubilation defended her potential future actions.

“And entirely unnecessary I’m sure Ms. Lee” a new voice cut between the two, one that belonged to a certain red headed guest who had entered the room alongside Monet St. Croix.  A guest that prompted a grin to form on the face of Jubilation Lee.

“Jean!” Jubilation greeted the well known telepath with little personal restraint.  Not only was she cool in her own right, but she also happened to be one of Wolverines favourite people, how could she not like her?

“Jubilee…” an easy smile found its way too the features of Jean Grey “…you’re looking well, Logan sends his regards…he would also like to know what happened to his Jeep?”

“Yeah, erm…” young Ms. Lee visibly began to squirm “…I’ll totally get back too him on that…”

“I’m sure” Jean nodded, turning her undivided attention to the girl, one that had found herself trapped in a mans body, sat awkwardly on the bed.  The body didn’t fit her, it was ponderous and slow, it was large and ungainly, at least, it was in comparison to what she knew, to what she remembered.  A memory of a body that no longer really existed.

“Paige” Jean continued to gently smile, sitting down beside the uncomfortable looking girl and taking her hand in hers.

“It’s ok…” the first woman of the X made certain to make eye contact, a set of emerald green reassuring a set of chestnut brown “…all I’m going to do is take a look inside, try and see what’s happened…maybe see how this happened”.

“Ah figured as much…” Paige nodded in understanding.  Monet had already attempted much the same, more than once, and yet frustration greeted her every time.  The oldest of the St. Croix sisters had claimed looking into her mind was like wading through barbed wire, too much was getting in the way…there was too much that didn’t make sense.  It was a failing that had annoyed her no end.

Everett suggested outside help, Jubilation suggested Jean.

Monet relented and agreed.

“If it is me…” Paige suddenly questioned, interrupting anything before it could begin “…if ah am Paige…”

“The we’ll work out the next step together…” Jean Grey squeezed the hand of her patient reassuringly, regardless of what his/hers/its true identity may indeed be.

“Now try to relax…” Jean hushed “…this won’t hurt a bit…”

Another time, another place...

She didn't know where she was. 

Somehow she thought she should, her surroundings bathed in a sea of red, the final glows of a dying day, an endless field of wheat swaying in time with a gentle breeze.  It felt like home, a place in which she spent many a childhood day, comforted by her youth and boundless innocence.  The sights and sounds, the very calmness of it all, yes, this was home, she could almost swear it.

Only she knew it wasn't.

She walked without purpose through the silent fields, hip high stalks of wheat brushing against her thighs, searching for any signs of others.  She walked for hours on end, or so it felt, and yet it was only for but a moment, a moment measured by the constant, ever silent beat of her heart.  An eternal rhythm to which only she knew the tune.

There was no-one else, not as far as the eye could see, not another soul within the endless fields of home.  There was no-one else here within the abyss, one that felt just like home.

Something was wrong, a nagging doubt that only grew within her mind, one that became ever stronger with every shade of red that darkened across the land.

There was no sound, she came to realise, and that is how she knew that the world was wrong.  She could not shout or scream, she could not call of laugh, there was no sound to be carried on the breeze, there was no din of life within this facade of home.  A mockery of her memories, a perversion of her hope.

Something was terribly wrong.

The girl shielded her eyes from the blinding light of a distant horizon, a sea of blood that cast her treasured memories in a ghastly shade of poison.

Her arm was tingling, a strange sensation that quickly spread across her body, folding into every bend and curve.  She saw a shimmering in the light, a metallic sheen of silver that reflected the horizon; she saw her arm, one that should be pale and pink, coated in a material she did not know.  The girl dared to touch it with her other hand, the shining and metallic thing that should be her limb, she felt it pulsing beneath her fingers, she felt the burning that shifted throughout her body.

Panic quickly gripped her as the metallic sheen that encased her fragile frame quickly shifted and distorted, rapidly twisting and contorting, warping her very form to some madman’s will.  A blinding wall of searing pain tore through her body, a scream of pain falling silent in the soundless world, as her bones broke and snapped, pulverised as her metallic skin warped her into some random and inhuman thing.

She screamed in silent torment as he body lost all sense of self, a warped distortion of spikes and javelins that tore and dug into the very world around itself.  She screamed as her body burned, the chattering of a thousand voices scuttling through her thoughts, a million different whispers, an unrelenting purpose.

She screamed as she lost all sense of self, she screamed as her body ate itself alive.

She screamed as the world was drowned in blood.

Paige Guthrie was still screaming when she awoke, the girl trapped inside the body of another being bodily held down too her bed by the far stronger Monet St. Croix.  It took many long, panic filled moments for her too remember where she really was; too separate the pain and horror of that other world from the safety and security of the real.  It wasn’t until her mind caught up with her senses, it wasn’t until she recognised the faces of her friends around her, or felt the soothing touch of Jean Greys influence within her mind, that her panicked shaking came to an end.

It wasn’t until then that she came too realise that both her cheeks and chin were both damp and stained with blood, her own blood, a pair of crimson trails that had flowed freely from her nose.  It was an injury that accompanied a searing headache that tore through her cranium like a thunderstorm.

“Ah…” Paige tried to question, her muddled and confused mind making it difficult to compose her thoughts.

“What…ah don’t…what happened…?” she looked to Monet first, the massively strong Mutant loosening her hold of Guthrie’s shoulders.  When no immediate answer was forthcoming she turned to Jean Grey at her other side, her eyes silently asking the same question.  The first hint of genuine uncertainty she had ever seen cross the red heads face did not fill her with confidence.

“I’m sorry Paige…” Jean apologised, consciously making the effort to remove the impression of uncertainty from her features, a calm collectiveness replacing it.

“I underestimated the amount of damage I would encounter, I have never seen such…” the first woman of the X forced herself to pause, composing her thoughts before turning to face all those present.  She genuinely wished she had better news to deliver, the reality of the world, however, meant that she rarely ever did.

“I can positively confirm that you are Paige Guthrie, that your Astral Self, that your…soul…is currently housed within the body of Jonathon Starsmore, it wouldn’t surprise me if it has been for some time.  In relation to that, I can also say that Jonathon himself is also present, although only at a purely subconscious level…”

“I sense me a ‘but’ coming…” young Ms. Jubilation Lee ventured.

“I’m afraid so…” Jean nodded.

“While I was scanning through your thoughts I encountered considerable damage, some of it will be due to the massive trauma caused by the head wound, this can be repaired…” Jean paused for yet another moment, deciding how best too put it.

“The human mind is not designed to house two entirely separate entities, it simply doesn’t know how too, your mind…his mind, is quite simply breaking down under the stress.  The longer the two of you continue to occupy the same space, the worse the damage will become…I’m sorry Paige, I have no other way too put this…”

Jean took the hand of Paige Guthrie in her own, looking into the eyes of Jonathon Starsmore and seeing another, lost soul behind them.  A lost soul she didn’t know how to save.

“You’re killing him; you have been since you died”.

TO BE CONTINUED...