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The Xavier School for Gifted Youngsters was a safe haven for any and all mutants who sought it.
Everyone involved in running it took great pride in that. They made sure that its safety was well known, spreading it through all the right channels to make sure that knowledge of it would reach mutants who might need it while avoiding those who may wish them harm. Any mutant who turned up at the school would find a home there should they wish for it. Many passed through over the years, some who stayed and some who did not, and that was by design.
Back when she was still a med student Jean had gone one step further and sworn to herself that she’d never refuse a mutant seeking medical treatment, regardless of her location. She knew all too well how difficult it could be for mutants to get their health taken seriously by doctors. Especially those with mutations that were visible or otherwise impossible to hide. She’d witnessed her teachers’ uncaring attitudes towards them; she’d witnessed people she personally knew and loved have to fight to be heard in the face of all that ignorance. She would be better than that. She was a mutant, and she was a doctor, and she would do all she could to push the world in the right direction.
She couldn’t turn anyone away. She could very well be the only option some people had.
It wasn’t overly uncommon for her to be woken in the middle of the night by someone in need of her care. She wouldn’t say that it was a regular occurrence. Sometimes months passed without incident, and she got to spend her nights in Scott’s arms as if nothing in the world was wrong. But, a few times a year, she’d be roused in the night by the news that her skills were needed. That someone had come seeking aid.
To feel Charles in her mind tonight, telling her that there was an injured, unconscious mutant waiting by the front door, wasn’t entirely unexpected.
To open the door and see that the mutant in question was Mystique, however, very much was.
Jean had never met Mystique before. Or, at least, she didn’t think she had. Jean wasn’t a strong enough telepath to be entirely confident in her ability to spot Magneto’s right hand woman when she was in disguise, not when to read anyone’s mind at all required concentration and intent. It was possible that she and Mystique had come across each other before without Jean having any idea about it.
Mystique’s reputation preceded her. The school was a safe haven for mutants. It was also a school. It was also home to the X-Men and was their base of operations, so allowing Mystique inside could prove disastrous.
Jean’s hesitation had another source as well.
She and Charles had seen into each other’s minds enough times over the years, through many sessions designed to help develop her psychic abilities and stretch them as far as they could go. She’d never asked Charles about it, had never pried, but she hadn’t been able to help but become aware of the two people who haunted him. Of the two people who’d been everything to him, once upon a time, but who’d abandoned him when he’d needed them the most. Of the two people he still loved, despite everything, but who he’d resigned himself to never having that closeness with ever again.
Raven was one of them.
Mystique was one of them.
Jean had her reservations, but she had also made a vow. She’d promised herself that she would never turn away any mutant who came to her for help. By coming here that was exactly what Mystique had done, and Jean wouldn’t be able to live with herself if she broke her promise now.
Even if Mystique was dangerous. Even if Mystique had been cruel to Jean’s beloved professor.
She didn’t think Charles would want her to shut the door on his sister, anyway. He wouldn’t have alerted Jean to her presence if he had.
Jean picked Mystique up and took her down to the infirmary. She administered painkillers and tended to Mystique’s wound, safely removing the bullet that was lodged in her side before it could cause any further complications.
Mystique was a shapeshifter, after all. Having a bullet inside of her as she changed forms would only cause further damage. Maybe it would be convenient for the X-Men if Jean took the opportunity to make it harder for a known adversary to wield their power, but that wasn’t the sort of person Jean wanted to be.
With the bullet out, Jean set to work stitching her up.
She was fairly certain that the nature of Mystique’s mutation meant that she healed faster than most. Stitches that would be necessary on anyone else could well be overkill on someone like Mystique. She stitched her up anyway. Best practice was to assume nothing, and that approach hadn’t steered Jean wrong yet.
Then, once she was done, Jean made herself a coffee and settled in to wait for Mystique to wake up.
She didn’t have to wait long.
Mystique woke with a gasp, her bright yellow eyes jolting open and immediately scanning the room around her.
“Hello,” said Jean, getting to her feet. She had a rehearsed greeting that she gave to everyone who ended up in here, and she thought she might as well introduce herself to Mystique in the same way. “You’re in the infirmary of the Xavier Institute. You’re safe. My name is Doctor Jean Grey, I’ve been looking after you.”
Mystique’s gaze slid to where Jean stood. “I know who you are.”
Her voice had a chill to it, and Jean felt a wave of something come from Mystique’s mind. It went by too fast for Jean to parse it fully, for her to be able to pick it apart and understand the thoughts that accompanied the feeling, but even without any details Jean got the distinct impression that Mystique did not like her.
For what reason, Jean didn’t know.
“Can you tell me what happened to you?” said Jean.
“No.”
“Are you sure?” she asked. “If there’s a chance that it could affect anybody here, we’d really appreciate it if–“
“It doesn’t,” said Mystique, curt and decisive. “You can tell Charles that his children are safe.”
“Speaking of Charles,” said Jean, choosing to overlook Mystique’s interruption, “would you like to see him? He already knows you’re here.”
Mystique stared at Jean. Her face was blank, though Jean once again felt that pulse of dislike that she couldn’t understand. “I do not.”
Jean had never been close with her own sister. She and Sara talked sometimes, a phone call here and there, but the truth was they didn’t really feel like sisters at all. Sara had been in high school already when Jean was born, and when she’d moved out for college she hadn’t come back. Jean had grown up seeing her sister at Christmas and almost not at all otherwise. She was a little sister only by technicality; she’d effectively been raised as an only child.
Even so. If Jean ever got shot and was offered the chance to see her sister as she recovered then she’d accept. Sure, they weren’t close, but she’d be happy enough to see Sara just as she’d be happy to see anyone she knew.
Charles and Mystique had been incredibly close as kids. They’d adored each other. Then they’d grown up and Mystique had chosen Magneto over him, leaving Charles all alone.
Jean didn’t know the full story. She’d always been polite and respectful and avoided digging up the details whenever she came across it. She’d never asked Charles to talk about it.
But this was weird.
Jean asked if Mystique wanted something to drink, and left to fetch her a coffee of her own.
When she returned, the infirmary was empty.
Mystique wasn’t where Jean had left her. She wasn’t in any of the adjoining rooms, and she wasn’t in the bathroom. Jean had left her alone for less than a minute and Mystique had taken the opportunity to disappear.
Jean was just about to raise the alarm when she felt a sense of calm wash over her.
“It’s alright, Jean,” said Charles inside her head. “She’s already left the mansion.”
Jean sighed. “A thank you would’ve been nice,” she said aloud, confident that Charles would hear her.
She felt Charles chuckle through his mental link.
“I’m sure she’s grateful,” he said. “She’s never been the best at expressing herself. Are you able to accept my thanks in her place?”
“I suppose.”
“Then,” said Charles, “thank you for taking care of her.”
And as he said it, Jean was flooded with feelings that weren’t her own. Feelings of sincerity, and relief, and sadness, and overwhelming love for both herself and for the woman she’d just saved.
Jean wouldn’t avoid the issue anymore. Next time she got Charles alone she’d ask him what had happened. After how she’d spent tonight she deserved to know what had gone so wrong that it had broken the relationship between Charles and Raven to the point that Raven would refuse to so much as see Charles. Charles was supposed to be Raven’s brother. It just didn’t make sense.
In the meantime, just as soon as it was a more sociable hour, Jean thought she wanted to call her sister.