Scott Summers’ awoke in the middle of the night to have his worst fears realized. He must kill Jean Grey. Their bedroom is dark, but he already knows she is not there, he can feel the emptiness. He rises from bed, fumbling for his visor; he slowly gets dressed and psychologically prepares himself for the task at hand. Cyclops always has a contingency plan; he has always been a brilliant strategist, but how do you battle someone that can break your spirit and your body with nothing more than a thought?
Summers searches the mansion slowly and methodically, “Where is everybody?” he wonders aloud. The rooms and hallways are eerily quiet, even for this time of night. He makes his way into the subbasement and hangar, expecting death around every corner. Until finally, there’s only one place left to search: the danger room. It’s the heart of the X-Mansion; where the X-Men hone their skills and battle their most dangerous enemies within the comfort and safety of their own home. It’s here that he finds her. She’s sitting on the floor with her back to him, in the centre of the empty and cavernous expanse. The door to the danger room closes behind Scott and he is left alone in the darkness with one of the most powerful mutants in the world and only the crimson light from his eyes to guide him.
“Do it Scott.” She says ominously. “I don’t understand what’s going on, but I know only one of us is leaving here alive.”
“Do it.” She repeats. “I won’t stop you.”
“What?! Jean…I can’t do that.” His voice cracks with the emotional strain. “I love you.” He falls to one knee, his head buried in his hands.
“DO IT!!” she orders; she rises to her feet, turning to face him, ready to embrace obliteration.
“I…I’m sorry Jean.” Cyclops lifts his head and unleashes all his rage and frustration, and with a primal scream engulfs his wife in a radiant and terrible light. A power that can crumble mountains washes over Jean Grey, its brilliance is blinding. As Summers closes his eyes and wipes away his tears, his breath is caught in his throat because of a dreadful realization; Jean is still alive.
Hauntingly, she approaches him, hovering just above the ground; he is unable to move, or speak, or even breathe, but he is unsure of whether it is simply the shock, or through Jean’s doing. His eyes are locked on hers, their once alluring green colour has been replaced by a cosmic fire; she leans in close and kisses him on the cheek. Scott Summers is no more, his existence disintegrated atom by atom. There is only the Phoenix.