Disclaimer: Hey, guess what? I still don't own X-Men Evolution. Isn't that amazing?

Author's notes: Story takes place during Jean's first couple weeks at the Institute. Considered making this a second chapter in a different story and realized it worked much better as a stand-alone. Go fanfic100 prompts!

Uncomfortable silences were something Jean Grey had always hated. She often felt defective for not being able to strike up a conversation with a person seated across from her. At the moment, though, she relished the silence of her mind not being invaded with exterior thoughts. Being alone with one's thoughts, however, had the downside of being susceptible to boredom.

She shifted her gaze from the rain covered window to Scott Summers, the only person her own age in this entire mansion; its only occupant other than herself at the moment since Professor Xavier and Ororo had gone to visit a friend. Jean shifted in her armchair, pulling her knees to her chin. Scott seemed to have no problems with silence, completely comfortable in his own skin. Jean had to exert self-control to not invade his interior monologue as she silently wondered what he was thinking.

He couldn't possibly find that newspaper more interesting than a stranger sitting across from him. Her eyes widened at the realization of the truth in that statement. For two weeks now she had lived with this person and knew almost nothing about him. How did that happen? It wasn't for lack of opportunity. His room was right down the hall from hers, they trained and ate meals together, and during these dog days of summer often found themselves in each other's company as they wondered what to do with their time. Scott was friendly enough but Jean had been far too self-absorbed since she'd arrived at the Institute to care.

Jean looked at Scott as though she had never looked before, determined to glean some information about her fellow student by his appearance alone. He was handsome, no doubt about that, but part of it was the way he carried himself. Slumped shoulders and a downward cast head would have turned him into a geek with those shades, a puffed out chest would have made him arrogant. He did everything confidently but at the same time understanding of others, a leader, no doubt.

And those shades, not an accessory by choice but it gave him an almost rebel quality. I wonder what color eyes he has under there. She was far too polite to ever ask him so the matter was up for speculation. Brown seemed the obvious choice with his brown hair- lots of her friends had that color combination- but Jean dared to imagine a pair of clear blue eyes to offset his stern brows and hard mouth. She tried to picture Scott without his shades when his voice dragged her out of her daydream.

"Didn't your parents tell you it's rude to stare?"

Jean quickly tried to act nonchalant as she mentally berated herself for being caught in the act. "I wasn't," she faltered.

"I shoot optic beams, I'm not blind," Scott countered. When she didn't respond he quietly continued, "I was for a while you know."

"What?"

"Blind." Scott folded the newspaper closed and then in half. "By choice," he added, "recovered sight was not my mutant ability".

"Oh. Because of your..."

"Optic blasts, yeah. Walked around for a long time with my eyes closed and a blind fold to make sure I remembered." A sound, almost a laugh, escaped his lips, "made waking up a bit of a chore. My foster parents all thought I was mentally deficient."

"You're an orphan?" Jean couldn't fathom being all alone in the world. She had always had her sister and a boatload of cousins, how was it possible to be void of any form of relation at all?

Scott answered her question before she could even ask, "Family died in a plane crash. Only stayed in the orphanage for a while before a foster family took me in. Worked until my mutant powers kicked in. After that I was kind of tossed around a bit. It didn't take long for the new foster parents to find out why such a nice, well-adjusted boy like me couldn't keep a home. Tried running away a couple times but it wasn't too hard to find a boy running around blind out on the street."

It seemed as though he'd been waiting to get this off his chest for a long time so she waited a moment before saying anything. "That must have been really hard." She knew it sounded lame but she didn't know what else to say. He had just laid his life story at her feet and that was the best she could come up with. The only thing she could think of was to share something equally secret with him. "My parents thought I was crazy at first, thought I couldn't handle seeing my friend die."

She paused "Hit by a car. I was ten years old and, gosh, I know it sounds crazy but at that moment, when she was lying there mangled and bloody I wanted so much to know what she was thinking, let her know I was there. To be able to let her know exactly how I felt about her, like I knew she was going to die. Going into her thoughts was like wading through a warm stream. After she died the dam broke. I could hear everything, absolutely everything. My parents didn't know what to do with me. They tried sending me to therapy but nothing made the problem go away. Then Dad remembered his old friend from college, Charles Xavier. He helped me seal it all away. So much for small favors, I'm right back where I started."

"No you're not," Scott told her. "Now you've got people who understand what you're going through." He hid his head in his hands. "I can't believe I told you the sob story of my life," he broke into laughter. "You must think I'm such a freak!"

"Like you just said," Jean answered, "I understand what you're going through. Life is tough without people you can trust."

Scott held out his hand and she took it in a firm handshake. "Welcome to the X-Men, Redd."

"Good to meet you, Slim."

Fin.