The silence after Ben's breakdown was fragile as glass. Jay could feel tension crackling through the room, everyone processing what they'd witnessed, betrayal and redemption in the same package.

  But he wasn't done yet. And judging by the looks on their faces, this was about to get worse.

  Jay's eyes found Rogue across the room. She stood rigid against the far wall, trying to physically distance herself from whatever was coming. The look in her green eyes wasn't anger but something colder and final.

  "Rouge," he said quietly, taking a step toward her.

  "No." The word cut across the room like a whip crack. Her Mississippi drawl was thick with pain and fury. "Don't you dare come near me with those sugar-sweet lies, Jay."

  Her tone stopped him in his tracks.

  "Rouge, please, let me explain—"

  "Explain what?" She pushed off from the wall, stalking toward him. "How you've been manipulatin' me since day one? How every single word outta your mouth was calculated to get me right where you wanted me?"

  Jay felt his heart hammering. "That's not—"

  "Oh, it ain't?" Rogue's laugh was bitter. "You targeted me specifically 'cause of my powers, didn't ya? Knew exactly what buttons to push to get poor little untouchable Rouge all dependent on the one man who could make her feel normal again."

  The accusation hit too close to home. Jay's silence was answer enough.

  "Every caring word," she continued, voice rising, "every gentle touch, every promise you made about findin' a way to help me, all of it was just part of some grand plan!"

  "Rogue, that's not—" Jay tried, but she was on a roll now, buried hurt pouring out.

  "Save it, sugah. I know manipulation when I see it. Hell, I lived it for years. At least they had the decency to be honest about usin' me." Rogue's voice cracked. "But you? You made me think... you made me hope..."

  She trailed off, wrapping her arms around herself.

  Jay wanted to tell her the truth that the feelings to help her were real, even if the foundation was rotten. But looking at the devastation in her eyes, he realized the truth would only make it worse.

  Sometimes the kindest lie was letting someone hate the villain instead of mourning the hero.

  Jay's hands trembled as he opened his mouth to defend himself, but the words died in his throat. His jaw worked soundlessly for a moment before he forced out, "So what?" His voice came out hoarse. "Maybe I was. Maybe that's all it ever was."

  The hurt that flashed across Rogue's face made his knees nearly buckle, and his chest felt like it was being crushed from the inside. Better she hates Power Broker than pine for a misunderstood Jay.

  "I told you I'd find a way to make you normal," he continued, voice steady despite his chest caving in. "I kept my word. Now you can find warmth in other people. Just... get yourself treated and move on."

  "Don't you dare talk to me like this is some kinda favor!" Rogue screamed, "I don't want your pity cure! I don't want anything from you!"

  "Rogue—" Scott started forward, but she rounded on him.

  "And don't y'all even think about takin' his side!"

  Jay looked desperately to the others for support, but found only disgust staring back. Scott's jaw was set in judgment. Johnny's flames flickered with hostility. Even Xavier looked at him like something unpleasant.

  Sue wouldn't even look at him. She'd turned to face the window instead. And Ben? Ben just sat there flexing his new fingers, refusing to meet Jay's eyes even though Jay had just given him everything he'd ever wanted.

  "Jean," Jay tried, "you guys know me. You know I wouldn't—"

  "Do we?" Jean's voice was cold. "Because the man we thought we knew wouldn't have lied to our faces for months. Wouldn't have manipulated a traumatized woman."

  Xavier finally spoke, his calm voice carrying profound disappointment. "Jay, Rogue is clearly not in the right emotional state to process this revelation. Perhaps now is not the appropriate time—"

  "If I what?" Jay's temper flared. "Left? Made it easy for everyone to forget that sometimes doing the right thing requires hard choices?"

  "Hard choices?" Johnny's flames roared. "You call lying to people who trusted you a hard choice?"

  "I call getting Rogue the help she needed, whatever it took!" Jay shot back. "I call giving Ben his humanity back worth it!"

  As voices rose and powers flared in the chaotic argument, Hank's voice rang with an electronic trill that cut through the chaos.

  Beast's voice came through clearly. "You're not forgetting about your promise to me, are you?"

  "Never," Jay repeated, his voice now tired of all the argument and wanting to get it over with.

  "I have to ask," Jay continued, "don't you harbor any resentment? For stealing Sage's abilities, for the deceptions, for the spectacular confrontation with X-Men and the Morlocks?"

  Hank was quiet for a moment, aware of every eye watching. Finally, he shrugged. "I can't speak for Sage. But I think you've got a better chance of doing good with enhanced abilities than harm. And after getting a taste of what normal feels like..." He glanced at Ben. "I figure I deserve the same choice."

  Without asking permission, Jay reached out and placed his hand on Beast's shoulder. The same genetic restructuring he'd performed on Ben flowed through his abilities, but working with mutation rather than cosmic radiation.

  The change was less dramatic but no less profound. Beast's blue fur shed, his excessive bulk diminished to human proportions. The animalistic features softened, becoming distinguished rather than monstrous. His fangs receded, though he retained enhanced musculature and longer blue hair.

  Beast looked like what he'd originally been- a brilliant scientist, rather than a creature struggling with humanity.

  "My word," Beast breathed, examining his hands. "The cellular restructuring is remarkable. I retain enhanced physicality but with voluntary control over the more... pronounced aspects."

  He looked up at Jay with wonder. "I must confess, I've always preferred 'Doctor' to 'Beast.' The latter always seemed rather tactless."

  Despite everything, Jay grinned. "Yeah? I thought it really suited you."

  The moment died quickly as Jay turned back to face the room full of people who used to trust him. The weight of their disappointment settled on his shoulders.

  "Well," he said quietly, "I guess that's that."

  This narrative has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. If you see it on Amazon, please report it.

  Jay was preparing to leave when Bobby's voice cut through the tension.

  "Uh, Doc? You might wanna look down there."

  Jay glanced down and realized he was still in his boxers, same as when he went in the tank for the procedure.

  The absurdity broke through his composure. A laugh bubbled up in hysteria when everything falls apart at once.

  "Right," he said, grabbing his tattered jeans from the non-salvageable closet. "The big dramatic revelation scene, and I'm in my underwear."

  Bobby shrugged out of his coat and tossed it over. "Here, kid. You're gonna catch your death."

  As Jay struggled into his jeans, he caught sight of Steve and Tony. He asked Bobby something who pulled a card from his back pocket and handed it to Jay. "This is for you Tony."

  "What's it for?" Tony called out.

  Jay met his eyes directly. "To get your poisoning checked out. The arc reactor's been leaking palladium into your bloodstream for months now, isn't it?"

  The color drained from Tony's face. His most carefully guarded secret was apparently an open book.

  Xavier looked at Tony with pity. "First time?"

  Tony's mouth opened and closed soundlessly.

  With nothing left to say and nowhere left to turn, Jay walked away, Bobby's coat over his shoulders, leaving everyone to deal with the aftermath.

  ?Outside, the cool night air hit Jay's face like a slap. He breathed it in deep, trying to wash the taste of burnt bridges out of his mouth. Bobby and Domino flanked him as they walked across the Baxter Building's back lot, their footsteps echoing off the concrete.

  Then Jay saw his car.

  "Jesus Christ," he breathed, stopping dead in his tracks. "My car..."

  The sleek vehicle looked like it had gone ten rounds with the Hulk and lost every single one. The hood was crumpled into abstract art, both doors hung at impossible angles, and what used to be the windshield was now a spider web of safety glass held together by sheer stubbornness. One wheel was completely missing, and the other three pointed in directions that defied basic geometry.

  For some reason, seeing his destroyed ride was the final straw. After everything, the lies, the betrayals, the necessary cruelties, watching every friendship he'd built crumble to dust, his totaled car nearly brought him to his knees.

  "That was a nice car," Bobby said quietly, like he was offering condolences at a funeral.

  "Sixty-seven Shelby GT500," Jay managed, his voice thick. "My dream car. I was so happy the day I finally got it—" He stopped, realizing how stupid it sounded to mourn a car when he'd just lost everything that mattered.

  "Easy there, Doc," Bobby said gently, resting a weathered hand on his shoulder. "Metal can be replaced. I brought my own ride anyway."

  They started toward Bobby's pickup truck, but after a few steps, Jay realized Domino wasn't with them anymore. He turned to see her standing perfectly still in the shadows between two dumpsters, like she'd grown roots.

  "Dom? Come on, let's go."

  She didn't move. Didn't even acknowledge he'd spoken.

  "Domino, why aren't you getting in the truck?" His voice carried the exhaustion. "Are you angry at me, too? For the whole secret identity thing?"

  "No." Her voice was barely above a whisper, so quiet he almost missed it.

  "Then what—" Jay moved toward her, real concern creeping into his voice. In all the time he'd known her, he'd never seen Dom this still. She was always in motion, always ready to move, always prepared for trouble. "Dom, why won't you look at me?"

  When he gently tilted her chin up, forcing her to meet his eyes, he saw they were red-rimmed and full of tears she'd been holding back for who knew how long.

  "Dom, what's wrong? Are you hurt?" The words tumbled out in a rush. "We can go back to Reed's medical lab, or I can check you over myself, or—"

  "No." She shook her head, pulling away from his touch like it burned. "Jay, when you were about to get hit by that cosmic ray blast... it was my turn to save someone I care about." Her voice cracked like ice under pressure. "But my powers failed you. I failed you."

  Jay stared at her, pieces of a puzzle he hadn't known existed suddenly clicking into place. "Dom—"

  "I've been alone since I was a kid," she continued, the words pouring out like water through a burst dam. "And I loved it that way. Nobody to worry about, nobody to let down, nobody to lose sleep over. Then you came crashing into my life with that stupid grin and those terrible jokes, and at first, it was just business. Easy money, you know? Then it got fun. Then..."

  She wiped her eyes with the back of her hand, smearing her makeup.

  "Then it became something I'd never felt before. Not for anybody. Not even for myself."

  Jay felt his heart breaking all over again, but for entirely different reasons this time.

  "When I saw you lying there on that table with the machines beeping and that flatline..." Domino's voice went hollow, like she was talking from the bottom of a well. "When my powers, the one thing I've always been able to count on, failed when you needed them most... it broke something inside me that I didn't even know could break."

  "Dom, listen to me—"

  "I'm better off alone," she said firmly, cutting him off with the finality that felt like a coffin lid slamming shut. "And now that this whole enhancement thing is done, I'm free from our deal too."

  "But I can help you," Jay said desperately, his voice cracking. "Maybe I can tweak your powers just like I did for Hank and Ben. Maybe I can give you real control instead of needing constant danger. You could have a normal life, Dom. You could—"

  "Stop." Domino smiled then, sad and beautiful and final as a sunset. "Just... stop."

  She reached into her leather jacket and pulled out something small and metallic. A battered and bloodied quarter, its edges worn smooth by countless tosses and years of being carried in pockets. She pressed it into his palm, and it was ice cold despite the blood.

  "Keep this safe," she whispered. "This coin saved your life. When Doom was about to put an end to us, it came like a bullet to his skull."

  Jay's enhanced memory kicked in, analyzing the coin's unique markings and flooding him with recollections. Their first encounter, the way he'd casually flipped this exact quarter in irritation when he copied her powers briefly, how it had bounced off a fire escape at just the right angle.

  "Seems like you're gonna need all the luck you can get where you're heading," she continued, stepping back like she was pulling away from something that might explode.

  More memories cascaded through his mind. Their first meeting at the diner. Every date, every close call, every joke about her "good luck."

  "The thing is," Domino continued, her voice getting stronger but sadder, "if my feelings for you stay the same, and you keep getting yourself hurt, which you will 'cause I know the path you've chosen, I'll break again. And next time, I don't think I'll be able to put the pieces back together."

  She stepped forward and hugged him then, quick and fierce, like she was trying to memorize the feeling of her arms around him.

  "Goodbye, Jay."

  "Dom, wait—"

  But she was already walking away, her pale skin making her look like a ghost disappearing into the shadows between buildings. She paused just long enough to give Bobby an awkward wave.

  "Take care of him, Bobby. He's gonna need it more than he knows."

  And then she was gone, swallowed up by New York like she'd never been there at all.

  Jay stood there in the alley, staring at the quarter in his palm. Under his enhanced senses, he could see every scratch, every wear mark, every tiny detail that told the story of their relationship.

  This quarter's been working overtime for me.

  Then the irony of it all crashed over him like a tidal wave.

  Domino's luck powers had been protecting him all along through this one simple quarter. Even when she thought her abilities had failed, even when she felt like she'd let him down, she'd been saving his life without even knowing it.

  Jay's knees buckled, and he sank down right there in the alley, the quarter clutched in his trembling hands. The laughter started first—bitter, hollow laughter at the joke of it all. Then the tears came, hot and angry, because he'd been so damn stupid. He'd pushed everyone away trying to protect them, and lost the one person who'd actually been protecting him all along.

  "God, I'm such an idiot," he choked out, his voice cracking like a teenager's. "She was saving me this whole time and I didn't even—" He couldn't finish the sentence. The weight of it all crashed down, every choice he'd made, every bridge he'd burned, every person he'd hurt while telling himself it was for their own good.

  "The luck was hers all along," he whispered to the quarter, his voice raw. "Even when she thought her powers were failing, she was still saving me. She never failed. Not once. But I failed her. I failed everyone."

  Bobby stood over him, watching this brilliant, complicated kid fall apart in an alley. The old vet had seen this before, not the superhero stuff, but the look. That hollow-eyed stare of someone who'd convinced themselves they were doing the right thing, only to watch it all crumble. Pride and good intentions, Bobby knew, could destroy a man just as surely as bullets.

  "Shit, kid," Bobby muttered, crouching down beside him. His joints popped in protest. "You really went and fucked this up, didn't you?"

  Jay's breath hitched, his shoulders shaking as he wiped his nose on his sleeve like he was twelve years old again. The quarter left an indent in his palm from how hard he was gripping it.

  "I've been where you are," Bobby continued, his voice rough. "Thought I knew better than everyone else. Lost people because of it. The thing is, you can either sit here feeling sorry for yourself, or you can figure out how to not be such a dumbass next time." He spat into the gutter. "Your call, Doc."

  When Jay remained silent, lost in his spiral of self-recrimination, Bobby just sighed.

  "It's gonna be okay, kid," Bobby said quietly, his voice carrying the kind of certainty that only came from surviving your own personal hell. "Somehow, some way, it's gonna be okay."

  But sitting there in the alley behind the Baxter Building, holding the quarter that represented everything he'd just lost—Dom's love, the heroes' trust, the simple joy of belonging somewhere—Jay wasn't sure he believed that anymore.

  The cruel irony wasn't lost on him. He'd gotten what he came for. Ben's humanity restored. Hank's powers refined. He'd gotten his enhancement. But thinking of Rogue denying him the chance to cure her again broke him all over.

  He'd just had to burn every bridge he'd ever built to do it.

  And for the second time since arriving in this universe, the question haunted him: What next?