Title: A Series Of Observations
Archive: Just ask
Rating: T (for now)
Disclaimer: I own nothing


Chapter One: Observing the Moth

Jean sighed and flipped the last page of the novel she'd been reading, finally finished. Smiling slightly, pleased with the way the story had ended, she let her head slip back against the rough bark of the oak tree she was currently sitting against, eyelids fluttering closed contentedly.

The barest wash of golden sunlight filtered through the dwindling canopy of leaves overhead, offering what little warmth could be had on the crisp autumn day, a cool breeze kissing her exposed skin and raising goosebumps in the process. She shivered beneath the sweater she wore, pulling her knees closer to her body, opening her eyes slowly.

I wonder how much longer I have before my next class, she thought absently, gaze flicking down to her wristwatch.

Seeing that she still had plenty of time to kill, she reached over to her knapsack and deposited her book inside, fingers going up to tuck a stray tendril of glossy hair back behind her ear from where the wind had displaced it. She leaned back against the tree, deciding to remain outside rather than wander the school's dank halls, simply enjoying the afternoon and the nearly cloudless blue sky above her head. Glancing around curiously, she took note of the various students who were doing the same, roving eyes coming to a startled stop when they came across a reclining figure only a few feet away.

His body sprawled comfortably in a pool of weak light, prone against a backdrop of leaf-strewn lawn, was Lance Alvers, hands crossed atop his chest, legs slightly bent at the knee, seemingly asleep.

Funny, I don't remember him having the same spare as me...must be skipping again... she thought disapprovingly with a tiny shake of her head.

Resting her chin on her knees, she continued to observe him from afar, wondering - and not for the first time - what life must be like for someone like him.

Someone without a real home...without security or parents that loved him...

Disapproval melted away as a sense of sadness, of pity, began to well up deep within her as she pondered Lance's existence, and what was missing from it - what she hoped she'd never have to experience herself.

Even sleeping, he looks so...bitter, so hard... she thought, worrying her full lower lip between her teeth as she stared at the oblivious figure lying so near, taking in his clenched jaw and shadowed eyes.

I always thought that Kitty would be enough to heal whatever's broken inside of him - we all saw the different person he became whenever she was around him - but now that she's with Kurt...I guess that won't be happening any time soon...

Another soft sigh escaped her at that thought, this time tinged with regret for things that would never be.

Unlike Scott - and others who shared his opinion - she didn't believe that Lance was a terrible person - him or the other lonely boys who shared the dilapidated boarding house on the other side of town. They were simply confused, unsure, afraid, or so she continuously reminded herself.

Growing up without the support of my own family and friends, who's to say I wouldn't have made the same choices they did...wouldn't be just as lost...

As those words streamed through her brain, her attention was caught by the sight of a tiny white speck that fluttered into her line of sight, zigzagging madly inches above the ground, straining against the pull of the wind.

A moth... she realized absently, its erratic flight urging a small smile onto her lips.

She watched as it struggled forward gamely, as it rode the same breeze that rustled the dried leaves above her, as it seemed to hone in on the slumbering Lance, hovering over his face for the space of a heartbeat, before deciding to take a much needed rest.

Right on the boy's nose.

Lance was either a very light sleeper, or he'd been awake the entire time. His eyes flew open instantly at the feather light touch, his movement going unnoticed by the inquisitive creature who sat fanning its wings on its chosen perch.

Jean, green eyes widening at the strange picture she was being presented with, merely sat mute as Lance slowly began to ease himself up, waiting to see what he was going to do. When one of the boy's hands started to inch its way up to his face, Jean cringed inside, sure he was going to do the 'male' thing and squish his harmless visitor.

Duncan, Scott, Evan...boys are all the same, they can be so cruel... she groaned inwardly.

Why should Lance prove any different?

Waiting for the deathblow that was sure to come, Jean prepared her teke, ready to flick the innocent victim to safety at the first sign of impending doom. A moment later, however, she realized that her power would be unnecessary, and the filaments of energy she'd gathered began to drain away unnoticed.

Instead of doling out final judgement, Lance gingerly extended a fingertip alongside his nose, and Jean watched, stunned, as the lazily flapping insect crawled eagerly over to the proffered digit, clinging to his hand trustingly. The leader of the Brotherhood then leaned back against the tree he'd been lying beneath, studying his new 'friend' with great interest, a half smile lightening his usually sullen face.

More than surprised by this unexpected - and uncharacteristic - display of gentleness, Jean gaped at him.

She watched, quietly amazed, as he turned the moth one way, then another, his other hand reaching out so that a trembling finger could stroke the edge of a powdery wing carefully. The insect, for its part, suffered the inspection with good grace, remaining still so that the boy could touch its silken furred body, its elegant, thread-like legs, could marvel at its subtle beauty.

Lance, enthralled with the creature he held, failed to notice his audience - allowing Jean to continue her scrutinizing.

Fleeting facial expressions spoke to her of his innocence, his gestures, of a patient kindness, and, truly for the first time, Jean was able to see a side of Lance that he kept hidden beneath the cold, cynical exterior he chose to present to the rest of the world.

The secret side that had drawn Kitty, that had encouraged her to love him, once upon a time.

Acknowledging such alien thoughts shook her, leaving her confused, making her wonder if Kitty had been right, if there was more to Lance than met the eye.

And then her serious considerations scattered as Lance went cross-eyed, attempting to get even closer to the moth, his comical visage prompting giggles to burst from her throat despite her best efforts to contain them. At the suddenness of the delighted sound, Lance jumped, startled brown eyes jerking up to meet Jean's amused gaze peeking from around her tree, his movement serving to jostle the little insect into panicked flight.

The moth, apparently miffed by its companion's rude treatment, fluttered indignantly above Lance for a few seconds, before coasting away unhurriedly on the cool air currents until it vanished from sight.

As soon as it had departed, Jean turned back to Lance, unable to quell the smile that still lingered on her face, surprised to see him glowering at her, his cheeks stained with a growing flush. Unsure as to whether he was angry with her or merely embarrassed, she opened her mouth, an apology on the tip of her tongue, when he stood up and stalked off, the scowl darkening his features easily seen even from her vantage point.

Swallowing the words she'd been about to relay, she debated going after him before catching herself.

Like that would do any good... she told herself with a little shake of her head, wondering briefly when the feelings of the enemy had begun to matter to her anyway.

Still, finding herself unable to look away, her eyes remained fixed on Lance's retreating form, his unruly chocolate locks trailing behind him as he walked into the wind, hands stuffed deep within his vest pockets, her steady gaze thoughtful and assessing.

And then he glanced back at her.

As if surprised to find her following him with her eyes, he paused uncertainly, brows drawing together in suspicion, before looking away and continuing on to the school's double doors, darting inside with a speed that hinted at escape, leaving a perturbed Jean staring after him.

Unsure as to what had just transpired between them - if, indeed, anything had - she simply gathered up her bag and slung it across her shoulder, beginning to make her way towards the school for her next class, shrugging away her musings. She kicked at the leaves her feet encountered, watching them sail across the browning grass disinterestedly, one final thought tickling the back of her brain persistently.

Observing a moth, she laughed silently to herself, pushing her way through the heavy metal doors. It would take more than that to bring the real Lance Alvers to the forefront...

Wouldn't it?