Title of the story: Silence of the Sinister (The sequel to Day of Judgment)

This is a movieverse story. Comical references may be made but do not be surprised if some characters do happen to appear OOC. The director/writer chooses the vision and direction of the character - which, is me in this case

Timeline: Roughly around 2019

Breakdown: A more detailed version of this will be released, but basically Jean, Logan, Erik, Ororo, Emma, and Scott, along with Apocalypse, are forced into 2019. Because of the amount of power Phoenix and Apocalypse were fighting each other with, it accidently dragged the other five into the mix.

Plot: While battling Apocalypse, Jean, Logan, Emma, Erik, Ororo, and Scott are sent to Jean and Logan's true time, 2019, where Apocalypse has destroyed most of the United States and its supporting nations. Since failing to change the outcome of the Day of Judgment, Jean and the others must find a way to stop Apocalypse once and for all and salvage what they can of the world in hopes of rebuilding and starting anew. However, their one and only hope, Dark Phoenix, just might end up being their true worst nightmare. What if Apocalypse wasn't the real villain in this time anymore?

Disclaimer: Nothing is owned or benefited or profited from this story. Don't steal it!

Prelude

Jean Grey VO:

It was so funny to me how we looked back when we were adults and wished we could go back in time. Most people would say that high school was an experience they never wanted to go through again, and I would agree with them. I wasn't popular. Not the high school definition of popular, at least. I never really understood the metaphor of standing in a crowded room and yet feeling so alone any clearer than I did now, or back then. I didn't have to come into my powers in high school to understand that people were fake. No one liked anyone else. It was all acting for the benefit of feeling important, accepted, and wanted. It gave people a purpose. If you couldn't cheer or dance, you pressured yourself to studying, just to place yourself in that popular group because you could teach them what others were failing to grasp otherwise. But no, I wasn't like them. I wasn't in that group. I didn't fit into that group. I fought to keep other's thoughts in different compartments, just to keep my thoughts as my own. But growing up, yes, I did want to go back. So badly. I didn't like looking out in the window and never seeing the sun but rather seeing fire in place of it. I hated walking through the city streets I grew up walking down covered in nothing but rumble and dust from the crumpled buildings around, fire corrupting its once steady frames for hours upon days, days onto the weeks, and those weeks turned into long and dreary months until nothing more was left.

Apocalypse ruined my world. He destroyed it within the palm of his hand, crushing anything that came in his way and didn't bow down to him. We couldn't stop him. I couldn't stop him. Everything I helped build, everything that I once saw good in was quickly shattered into a million pieces. Out of the original X-Men, a group of gifted and talented mutants who once promised to save the world from the threats of those like Apocalypse, only three were left. Myself, Wolverine, and Forge. Out of those three, in a meek and final surprise attack, only one survived. Wolverine.

Our history was casted in a shadow, upon first meeting, to flirting, to war, and ultimately until the present. I fell in love with Scott Summers in my world. I married him and I loved him until the end. Never once did I let my feelings of Logan, Wolverine, ever cloud or cut through what Scott and I had. I ignored the affair my husband and nemesis had and I never once sank to his level with Logan, no matter how much my other side or my physical needs and emotions were begging me. A few months after the death of my husband did I finally submit to what had been around us like a heavy fog. I didn't do so because I knew we would die, or because there was no escaping this fateful war. I did so because I wanted to regain the ability to just…feel again. I needed to hold onto that love and that physical attraction so that I didn't lose myself. It was something that kept us alive.

When Apocalypse surprised us with another attack, Forge had been telling Logan and I about a machine he repaired, one to bring one person to the past to fix the mistakes we made. However, we never got the chance. What happened after, I cannot remember. I traveled back, finding myself in the body of my past self, years before Apocalypse rose to claim war on humanity and mutants. However, the outer blast of the ruined machine brought back Apocalypse as well and realizing that things were changing, but for the worst, I brought my Logan into our past, enlisting his help and knowledge. However, things looked grimed, no matter what we did. Even with telling the X-Men the truth about us and the future, we didn't stop anything. Our actions only brought the war up faster and far more dangerous than either of us could imagine. Through one last ditch effort, I was killed, again. And again, as the Phoenix, I was reborn and brought back, stronger, focused, and unemotional. I fought Apocalypse but I never won. Using the power I could manage without fully unleashing the begging and violent Dark Phoenix, I forced Apocalypse back in our time, and mistakenly, everyone else that surrounded else.

As loud, sudden, gasp was heard throughout the breaking silence. The red-head stumbled up into a sitting position from the dirty ground as her hazel eyes searched around her, taking in the surroundings in the dark and dusty room. She fought to catch her breath, realizing that the room didn't carry much oxygen, before she tossed off some fragments off of her body as she stood. She heard groaning and stirring around. More people were here, along with her, but were they threats? Her hand searched the wall, finding a light switch, as electricity surged and crackled before lights above flickered on. Jean's eyes laid upon the figures rising: Emma, Ororo, Logan, Erik and Scott. Blinking, she moved past them and towards the door of the small building, a small office it seemed, swinging the door open. Stepping out a foot or two, she looked around; a small group, three people she counted, ran past her, dressed all in black, as she looked off in the distance. The sky was cast in an eerie orange glow as small fires burned off in the distance. Buildings that still stood where only standing on half frames like they had been sliced in half. Downtown New York City was covered in dust and blackness. Jean was back in her own time. And nothing had changed.