Trial By Fire

by furygrrl

UPDATED Directly follows 'The Awakening' series. Certain truths are revealed, a momentous decision is made, bringing those involved ever closer to the fire storm to come... JeanLogan or is it? ::wicked grin::

1. Part One

Title: Trial By Fire - Part One
Archive: Just ask first
Disclaimer: I do not own ANY Marvel characters, song "Twilight" is by Vanessa Carlton. No copyright infringement intended.
WARNING! PLEASE READ BEFORE CONTINUING!
RATED 'R' - Violence, language, and sexual references. If this isn't for you, please go no further.
Summary: X-Men Evolution - Directly follows 'The Awakening' series. The aftermath of Jean's attack and a new threat...
A/N - Notes have been placed at the end to avoid spoilers.

---

She couldn't see.

She knew her eyes were open, but the darkness that had swallowed her up surrounded her, impairing her vision completely.

Tentatively, she reached out a hand and touched...nothing.

A nervousness began to overtake her as she started walking, wrapping her arms around her naked, shivering body, darting glances around the black void she'd found herself in, seeking any source of light.

One step, then another, and then she was falling, down, down, down...

She opened her mouth to scream, but no sound came forth, just the horrible sensation of dropping into the unknown.

When she landed, it was flat on her back, still within the shadowed pit of nowhere.

Before she could collect herself and rise, she felt a weight press against her, keeping her prone.

She struggled with heavy limbs, a terror flooding through her at the invisible touch, but to no avail. Whatever had her in its grip wasn't letting go.

A tickle started just below her collarbone, as if someone was brushing a feather along her skin, teasing her, lingering as if to get her attention, then slowly gliding down her body.

Her heart was fluttering, breaths coming in panting gasps as she once again tried to pull herself free from restraints hidden by the silent darkness. The tickle was becoming more insistent the lower it progressed, swirling lazily over her stomach repetitively until her skin began to crawl.

As if her unseen tormenter could sense her sudden agitation, it pressed down on her until she couldn't breathe, the docile, velvety touch turning into burning pinpricks that sent shock waves through her wriggling form.

And then there were hands - so many hands!

Hot, clammy, grabbing hands, prodding and poking her from all sides, smoothing over her breasts, running down her legs and pulling them apart, stretching her wide...

Eyes full of hysterical fear, she let out a shriek that only she could hear, the intensity of the cry echoing inside her head and shattering the nothingness.

Jean sat up, the sheets of her bed twisted around her, chest hammering painfully.

She looked around in confusion at finding herself safe in her room while reaching up unconsciously to brush tangled hair from her face. The bedside clock blinked innocently at her from its place on the night table, announcing that it was several minutes after four a.m.

Heart rate starting to slow to a more moderate pace, Jean urged her ragged breathing to follow suit, realizing that it had just been a nightmare...one of countless many...

She let her aching head fall forward into her hands, not surprised that her cheeks were wet with tears.

---

The next day dawned murky and cheerless. Heavy leaden clouds filled the sky, promising rain before the afternoon arrived. The air that passed through the small space of the slightly open window was cool and smelled faintly of autumn, of damp and wood smoke. Someone had a fireplace full of warmth nearby even though it was nearly summer, the burning wood lightly scenting the breeze.

Jean let the gauzy curtain fall from nerveless fingers, not having the energy to even sigh over such a drab morning as she might have done in the past. She sat back on the bed, pulling up her rumpled duvet and cuddling it around her shivering form. She briefly debated just going back to sleep. It was technically a school day, but only for those who had exams to write, and thankfully she had none.

It was Friday.

7 days had passed since the night of the formal, since the night the word 'rape' had become more than just a word to her.

She leaned back into her pillows, the covers following her movement so that they tucked under her chin. Her wide eyes stared without seeing, blankly assessing the ceiling as she thought, the vibrant green of her gaze lackluster, still haunted.

Jean had been able to keep her secret to herself since that night, no one suspected that anything untoward had happened to her - with the exception of those that had been involved, of course. She still smiled, managed to force her laughter, went on about her normal routine as well as she could, anything to keep suspicion as far away from her as possible.

She smiled beneath her blankets, a cold, bitter curve of her lips.

If I'd known that I was such a good actress, I might have tried out for some school plays rather than the soccer team... she thought, knowing deep down that her pretense was only one half of the victory. The other successful part of the subterfuge was a far less appealing realization, and she fought dwelling on it as much as possible.

But today, alone, acknowledging her depression, she allowed herself the indulgence and let her mind skitter over to where she'd locked away her darkest thoughts, touching on the most recent and most painful.

My friends, practically my family...they can't see beyond the façade, can't be bothered to look deeper...

She felt a wave of bleakness thread through her already overtaxed system, a familiar wetness touch her cheeks as her eyes welled at the lack of concern that she'd encountered from those nearest and dearest her heart.

Jean knew she was good at hiding her feelings - being a telepath, someone who caught errant thoughts as easily as she did had taught her how to mask her emotions, keep a blank face when necessary.

But not so good that her pain should go unnoticed by those who lived with her, or so she believed.

Hell, she told herself as she rolled onto her side, they haven't even asked if anything's wrong. As if dark circles under my eyes are an everyday thing, or missing classes was normal. If it was anyone else, I know I'd be concerned.

She brushed a hand across her face to rid her skin of her tears, watching the leaves on the trees outside her window as they rode the wind, spiraling from their branches to places unknown.

Sighing, she closed her eyes wearily. She hadn't had a decent night's sleep since the attack, her dreams were more than nightmares, full of terror that followed her into wakefulness and never seemed to leave her side no matter how hard she tried to shield herself. Just thinking about it made her shiver within her cocoon of warmth.

It's not their fault, Jean, a voice said from inside her head, trying to reason with her. They don't have any cause to suspect something's wrong. Lack of sleep, mood swings, cutting a few classes - those are all characteristic of your age group, none of them are an indication of something more serious...

Jean rubbed her head against the pillow, trying to escape what she saw as excuses for her teammates' behaviour as they ran through her mind, trying to drown out that perfectly reasonable voice that had begun to intervene for them of late.

My age group, yes, but not characteristic of me... she argued internally.

Her inner voice sighed, sounding exasperated, as if she knew deep down she was being unfair but wouldn't permit logic to interfere with her tightly restrained emotions.

Nothing short of you telling them is going to make them aware that there's a problem...but you still can't bring yourself to do that, can you? You want them to know so you can unburden your soul, begin to heal, yet you continue to tell yourself that you'd rather die than have them find out about what's happened. You can't tell these people - people that you claim to love and trust, whose love and support you desire in return, that you've been -

"Enough!" Jean sat up, eyes tightly closed, hands clenched with anger. She wasn't even aware that she'd spoken out loud until a voice in the hall called out to her through her bedroom door.

"Uh...Jean? Everything all right in there?" Evan asked, knuckles tapping on the other side of the door.

Jean stared in the direction his voice came from, blinking in confusion.

"Yeah. I'm fine," she said when she found the words to respond.

"Okay." He took her at her word, his footsteps receding, and Jean was once again alone.

She continued to look at the door even after many minutes of silence had passed, fingers absently running through her tousled hair.

"I'm fine..." she repeated in a whisper.

The wind stirred beyond her window a final time, as if wordlessly echoing her pain, before the first icy drops of rain fell from the darkened sky. It misted along the horizon, blurring the harsh lines of the trees and all that lay in the distance.

Jean turned to the sight as the sound of rain hitting the glass attracted her attention, feeling her eyes burn with the need to spill out her misery at the situation she'd found herself in.

But she wouldn't cry again, at least not today.

It was like the heavens were already weeping for her.

---

"Have fun, Hank," Logan snorted, eyes never leaving the newspaper he was reading as the furry blue mutant known as Beast appeared in the kitchen's doorway, a large bag slung across his broad back.

"Oh, I intend to Logan. The archaeological dig I've planned for the students will be most exciting," Hank said with a grin, canine teeth showing prominently as his smile widened.

Logan only flipped the newspaper closed and sat back in his chair, tipping his morning beer towards his mouth.

"Are you sure I can't convince you to come along? It will be very educational," Hank entreated.

Logan laughed and shook his head. "Are you kiddin'? Chuck needs someone to mind the house 'til he gets back from Washington, and that means my first weekend all to myself since I got here. No kids, no fighting, no whining, none of that garbage any of them listen to and call music. Being alone never sounded so good." He flashed a grin of his own as he got up from his seat, falling into step beside Beast as he headed towards the hangar.

Beast gave his friend a sly look as Logan finished listing off his reasons for staying behind. "Ah, but you won't be completely alone so don't start celebrating yet," Hank said, waving the waiting group of students onto the Blackbird, smiling as they piled aboard eagerly.

Logan frowned at his colleague, hands thrust into the pockets of his pants, waiting for Beast to elaborate.

"Jean's elected to deprive us of her most welcome presence - said she wasn't feeling very well," the other mutant replied, sounding a little disappointed.

"Jean? She's staying here?" Logan asked, trying very hard to keep his voice neutral.

Hank nodded, lifting a trunk of supplies and hefting it onto his muscled shoulder as easily as if it didn't weigh several hundreds of pounds. "Yes. I didn't argue with her because she's an excellent student - this excursion would have been enjoyable for her, but not completely necessary." He frowned a moment later. In a hushed voice, though no one was around to overhear, he added, "I've also noticed she's been looking...behaving...rather unlike herself recently. Withdrawn...tired. I think a weekend of rest would be better for her than a campout in the Alberta Badlands, looking for signs of dinosaurs."

Logan, still surprised at finding out that he'd have company for the next couple of days - and that it was the last person he'd expect it to be - could only nod at Beast's comments, not able to meet his friend's eyes.

"Take care that she doesn't overdo it while we're gone. Encourage her to stay in, to relax - and if you feel up to it, try and find out what's weighing so heavily on her mind. It may be nothing more than common female hormones that are so prevalent at her age, but it would be nice to know that for certain," Beast advised, giving Logan a final, parting wink before he moved over to the boarding ramp of the jet.

Logan watched the ramp rise up behind his friend, then tilted his head so that he got a glimpse of the blue mutant through the small windows of the cockpit as he slipped in beside Ororo. Backing away, Logan waved a final time to his fellow instructors before the Blackbird's engines screamed to life, making the entire room shudder as it echoed the machine's rumbling.

The bay doors slid open slowly and the jet inched forward, the screaming suddenly flaring into an almost soundless whine as the engines powered up to full. The wheels started rolling as Hank maneuvered the sleek metal bird into gear, directing it to the exit that was hidden from the outside by a surging waterfall. Seconds later, the jet thundered down the enclosed runway, leaving nothing behind but the smell of burnt rubber and silence, the echo of the waterfall and the high-pitched ringing in Logan's ears the only sounds that interfered.

Logan rubbed a hand across his chin, feeling the prickles of stubble against his palm as he confronted the thought of a weekend alone with Jean.

Although stunned at first, he realized that he didn't find the thought as disturbing as he thought he would. In fact, though he would have liked to pretend otherwise, the situation was tantalizing, filling him with a rush of excitement and heating his blood with expectation all at once. He actually had to fight down the sudden trembling of desire that made things tighten low in his body.

He walked back down the hallway towards the inside of the mansion, letting the doors to the hangar slide closed behind him with a whoosh. He bypassed the kitchen and strode into the foyer, finally hesitating at the bottom of the stairs, one hand on the solid oak balustrade as he gazed up to the dim hallway above.

A million thoughts raced through his head as he pictured Jean sitting in her bedroom.

His grip on the banister tightened involuntarily.

None of them involved anything to do with his being a teacher or a parental figure, or her being a student in his care...or clothes for that matter.

Logan shook his head angrily, willing such images out of his mind as he forced himself to remember - remember that she hadn't spoken more than two words to him since she'd come home from her 'all nighter' as the other students had called it.

That she was dealing with something that he couldn't just 'fix'.

That she probably wouldn't rush to him now just because he'd suddenly opened his arms to her, like she'd been begging him to do for the last few months.

Jesus, Logan. It's barely been a week since - since...and all you can think about is yourself...

His inner voice was so thick with disgust that he wasn't even sure it belonged to him.

He closed his eyes, breathing calmly for a few seconds, urging his body to regain control. His blood stopped racing and his heart rate slowed. The twinges from between his legs lasted a moment longer, and then they too were gone.

Logan let out a final breath and glanced back up the stairs, a myriad of emotions evident in his eyes as he weighed his options. He let his hand drop from the banister, stuffing it in his pocket once again, turning to go back the way he came. His shaggy hair swung into his eyes as he retreated, angry with himself.

Not sure of how to approach the situation, how to help her, he did the only thing he could do at that moment.

He walked away.

---

Jean rolled over, eyelids fluttering open as she woke.

The gloom that filled the room said that it was late afternoon, that she'd managed to actually sleep for some small measure of time. She stroked her fingers across her face, brushing sleep from her eyes groggily. Groaning, she curled up on her side.

Rather than feeling refreshed, she felt worse than if she hadn't slept at all. Her head seemed to be stuffed with cotton, leaving her thoughts hazy and indistinct. Her limbs were heavy, like sandbags, and a faint quiver of nausea nibbled along the lining of her stomach.

I should just stay here. Maybe I'll waste away...die...and then I won't feel bad at all... she told herself, eyes closing again as she burrowed back into her blankets.

She lay there for a minute, ready to head back into her thankfully dreamless slumber, until she realized how thirsty she was.

Crawling out of bed, she tugged her thigh-length nightshirt back to some semblance of order, grabbing her robe and belting it about her slim waist as an afterthought. Barefoot, she padded across her carpeted room and out into the silent, dimly lit hallway. Making her way down the stairs, she noticed the absence of sound - no voices, no laughter, not even the usual blare of the television. Just the faint pattering of rain on the roof above her.

She wondered absently where everyone was.

Once in the kitchen, she flicked on the light with her teke and took a heavy glass tumbler from the cupboard. Running cool, clear water into the glass, she drank it down greedily in great gulps, refilling it before she'd even finished. She sipped on the second glass more slowly, thirst sated for the moment, and merely leaned against the countertop, still unsure of why the house was so empty.

The high-pitched ring of the telephone suddenly filled the silent void, making her jump and slosh water over the rim of her glass and down her arm, soaking the sleeve of her robe. Muttering in irritation as she dried herself off with a tea towel, she noticed that there was no second ring, that someone had answered it. She looked down the hall that branched off from the kitchen, noticing a light at the end of the corridor coming from the Professor's study, a shadow moving within the thin golden wash.

Jean walked towards the room, curious as to who was there.

Approaching the study, she hesitated at hearing Logan's hushed voice coming from within. He was in the midst of a conversation.

"...you know I'd do it if it was just me alone, Chuck, but Jeannie's here... Yeah, yeah, stayed behind... Uh-huh... Hank said she didn't hafta go with 'em if she didn't want to - said she should rest up instead."

Jean leaned forward to look into the room, seeing the phone pressed to Logan's ear as he talked, his back to her. She felt as if a light bulb had gone off in her head at his words.

The archaeological dig in Alberta. That's where everyone was. She'd told Mr. McCoy that morning that she wasn't going to be attending.

She rubbed her face with her free hand, feeling stupid for not remembering, listening as Logan continued speaking.

"Do you think she'd be okay if I just took off? Right... Yeah... I don't know if she's up to any kind of mission right now, especially one like this... Mm-hmm... It's that important, eh?"

Moving without thinking, Jean pushed the door open all the way and stepped into the room, letting the glow of the lamp reveal her to Logan as he turned around. Her eyes met his without flinching, then watched as his expression went from surprised at seeing her standing on the room's threshold before smoothing into something that she couldn't read.

"...yeah, yeah, hold on a sec, Charles - Jean's here right now." He pressed the phone against his chest and stared at her. "Thought you were asleep," he said, his voice low, careful.

Jean nodded, wrapping both hands around her glass of water like it was something protective. "I was. What's going on?" she queried, voice equally hushed.

Logan shook his head, eyes becoming guarded. He half raised the phone from his chest, as if intending to go back to his conversation without speaking further to her.

"Nothin' to concern yourself with." He said it as if he meant it, making Jean even more curious.

Logan's eyes flicked over her before she could reply, taking in her mussed appearance, her pale, tired face. He shook his head again, his mouth set in grim lines, like he was angry with her for some reason.

"You should get back to bed. You need to rest, Dr. McCoy's orders," he said, his tone matching the look on his face.

Jean stared back at him, not sure what his problem was, not particularly caring, either.

"What mission?" she prompted, coming closer to him, eyeing the phone with sudden interest.

"Nothin'. Now go back upstairs," Logan growled, holding the receiver up and away from her, like he expected her to make a grab for it.

Xavier's voice could be heard coming from the one end, calling for Logan to put Jean on.

"I think he wants to talk to me," Jean said, putting the glass on a side table, reaching out for the phone.

Logan looked at her, then at the phone, a flash of confusion showing in his eyes before he passed it over to her with unconcealed annoyance.

"Hello, Professor," Jean said, watching as Logan turned away from her to face the windows as she began speaking.

"Good afternoon, Jean. I wasn't expecting to hear your voice today, I've been told you're unwell. How are you feeling?" Xavier's warm, yet concerned voice sounded in her ear.

The redhead's lips parted for her now-automated response. "I'm fine."

"I'm glad to hear that. I was just telling Logan that I needed his expertise on a critical matter, but he was a little unsure as to whether he could leave you home alone in your current condition."

Jean felt a bitter laugh bubble up in her chest at her mentor's words, though she clamped it down firmly.

I'm always alone in my 'current condition'. Nothing can change that... whispered in her skull.

"What matter is that?" she questioned instead, her interest piqued by Logan's resistance to whatever the issue was.

"It need not concern you, Jean. If you think you can manage by yourself for the night, then only Logan needs to hear about it."

Logan reached out a hand, as if he knew she'd been dismissed from the conversation.

Jean kept her grip on the plastic handle a moment longer, unsure of what she wanted to do, yet knowing instinctively that she didn't want to be left alone in the big house with its shadows and tangible silence for any true length of time.

Alone, she repeated to herself. Nothing but the darkness, the depression, the nightmares...and me.

She moved away from Logan, twisting the phone cord around her wrist agitatedly as she did so, fighting the trembling that was already starting to make her fingers twitch.

"If it's all the same to you, Professor, I'd like to go too," she said earnestly, trying to keep the fear, the desperation from colouring her tone. He'd know something was up if he heard it.

"I don't know, Jean. It will be quite dangerous. Are you sure you're feeling up to it?" The doubt was carefully masked in his response, but Jean could tell that he wasn't completely against her going, just concerned for her welfare.

"Absolutely. I was only tired today, I'm more than ready for a change of pace," she promised, holding her breath at the end, biting the inside of her lip.

Silence from Xavier's end, and then a sigh.

"Alright. I'm going against my better judgement, but I'd feel better knowing that Logan wasn't getting involved in this situation without support. Go and get into uniform and I'll have Logan fill you in on the details when I've finished speaking with him. Could you please ask him to take the phone again?"

Jean looked back to Logan who was waiting for the phone impatiently, his hand held out peremptorily. She dropped it into his palm without comment, retrieving her water as he turned back to the window, leaving her staring at the black t-shirt that stretched across his shoulders, outlining the corded muscles underneath.

"Yeah...yeah...mmm-hmm... Fine, whatever you think is best, Charles. Talk to you then."

The receiver was set back on its cradle.

Jean stood quietly, poised to leave and get dressed, waiting. Logan didn't turn to face her immediately.

"Well?" she asked, impatient to know what the mission was.

Logan finally looked over to her, eyes glittering dangerously, a tenseness radiating from his body.

"I don't know how you managed to get yourself involved, but I'll tell ya right now that I'm against it. I don't need back-up, don't need someone cramping my style, don't want you coming," he growled, striding past her on his way down the hall.

Jean trailed after him into the kitchen, not caring that she was sloshing water again as she did so.

"I'm going with you, like it or not," she retorted, dropping the glass into the sink, watching as Logan pulled a beer from the fridge. He pried the cap off with a single claw and immediately drank the liquid down.

Feeling ignored - and not liking it one bit, Jean put her hands on her hips and set her face into determined lines.

"Why wouldn't you want me to go with you?" she challenged, channelling all her negativity into the confrontation with him.

She didn't want to admit it to herself, but she found it vaguely satisfying to be able to put her recently acquired animosity towards Logan to use, to do something other than avoid looking at him when in the same room. While she didn't blame him for what happened to her a week ago, she still found it impossible to forgive the role he played in that evening of horror - how his fear of being close to her had left her so vulnerable, so completely alone.

Logan shook his head at her question, refusing to meet her eyes. His mouth opened once, twice, before snapping shut, as if unsure of what to say. He finally settled on a half-truth, probably hoping harshness would succeed where reason would fail.

"You're not up to it, not yet. You can't be counted on without a level head on your shoulders. You'll wind up getting one or both of us hurt." He looked up in time to catch her flinch at his remarks.

"A level head? What the hell is that supposed to mean?" she whispered, shocked that he would use her justifiably shaken emotions against her, feeling her throat constrict as another bout of tears threatened. She pushed the urge to cry back into her stomach, knowing that if he saw moisture gathering in her eyes, it would just prove his point.

Besides, she didn't know if she'd be able to stop once she started, not while facing him.

Hearing the thinly concealed hurt in her voice, Logan realized instinctively that he'd gone about the situation incorrectly, but it was too late to recant. He just huffed into the neck of his beer bottle, not answering, taking another swig of the amber liquid.

"Jeannie..." he finally murmured after the silence between them lengthened, head bowed as he studied his booted feet.

"Don't," she interrupted before he could say anything else.

Their few words coupled with the subsequent quiet was the closest either of them had come to discussing what had transpired a week ago, and it was only serving to unnerve Jean more. She had tensed up when Logan murmured her name, her stomach clenching into a little ball of ice at the prospect of having a conversation about those events with him, making her cut him off before he could continue. She couldn't bring herself to talk about what had happened - not to Logan, not now.

Maybe not ever.

Logan was looking to her, watching, waiting for her to speak.

Jean lifted her chin a fraction as she faced him down, needing little effort to seem distant, cold, determined.

"I will be going with you, Logan. The Professor has seen fit to include me and - and..." She grappled for a lie before deciding that the truth would serve her better. "And because I need to do something - anything, that will keep me from dwelling on that night. Staying in an empty house with nothing but bad memories for company isn't going to help me. I need you to understand that."

Logan seemed thoughtful, his fingers playing over the glass of the beer bottle as his mind absorbed her quiet words. His eyes filled with a pain his carefully schooled features didn't mirror as he nodded his head, gaze going to the floor once again. He used the long strands of his hair to hide the naked guilt that swam across his vision, his own feelings of despair her hurt forced up within him, before closing his eyes entirely in defeat. He sighed.

"I hadn't thought about it that way," he admitted after a moment, gripping the bottle tightly. "I won't leave ya alone, Jeannie," he added softly before draining the last of his beer and setting the empty bottle back on the table. He rubbed the heel of his palm across his face before his eyes could seek her out again, hoping that she wouldn't notice how much of his heart was visible in their dark depths.

She wasn't ready for him to throw that at her yet, no matter how much he wanted her to be.

"I just want you to know that all I'm trying to do is keep you safe," he murmured, watching her blank expression stare back at him.

She made no sound, no gesture, just stared.

Logan wondered if she'd heard him, but she finally nodded and pushed herself away from where she leaned against the counter.

As she moved past him to begin getting dressed, he caught a glimpse of her face as it altered to become vaguely mocking, leaving Logan with the impression that she had left something unspoken.

It wasn't until he heard her footsteps fade that a voice whispered inside his skull - whether it Jean using her telepathy or his inner self adding its two cents, he wasn't sure - but it asked the question that she'd been unable to put into words all the same.

Like you kept me safe that night, Logan?

Hearing it, even in his mind, filled him with such shame induced rage that his vision blurred red, his hands slamming down on the table forcefully - shattering the beer bottle and embedding tiny shards of glass beneath his skin. The beads of blood that welled up briefly before his body healed itself went unnoticed by his fury-blinded eyes.

It was like all of the other questions that had plagued him of late.

It left him angry and empty and wild...

Because he had no answer for it.

---

"So what exactly are we doing here?" Jean asked when their big, black SUV finally rolled to a halt, her eyes studying the forested darkness surrounding them.

Since the Blackbird was already in service, and the X-1 - the alternate, smaller aircraft the team normally used - was still in the midst of repairs, their only option was to drive to where they needed to go. Thankfully, it hadn't been far - a couple hours north of Bayville, a westward twist through a long stretch of farm country, before the highway was abandoned completely in favour of an unpaved, unlit road, surrounded by trees.

Jean heard Logan pop open his door, felt the cool rush of wind that entered the car as he stepped out.

"And for that matter, where the hell is 'here'?" Jean mumbled to herself as she followed his lead, leaving the warmth of the car for the nearly entirely black space without, shivering as the first drops of icy rain hit her skin.

Logan didn't respond, so she moved around the front of the car.

"Don't you think it's time to tell me what we're doing?" she asked in a hushed voice, though still making her irritation known.

The entire drive across the state had been filled with her requesting information about their mission, only to be met with his stony silence and the odd, solitarily-worded rebuff.

Jean had little patience left for his stubbornness.

Logan's head turned to her. His eyes were like black pits that blended perfectly with the darkness. Jean tried to stop from shivering under his scrutiny.

"There's a government funded installation a few miles ahead. Xavier wants us in and out after a quick look around and back home as soon as possible. We'll leave the car here and go in on foot," Logan said, going back to his survey of the woodland.

Jean shook her head, confused. "We're in the middle of nowhere. What could possibly be out here that would interest the Professor?" she asked, stumbling to follow Logan as he began moving through the brush.

He didn't look back as he replied, his tightly amused tone carrying easily on the chill wind. "That's what we're here to find out."

They walked for the better part of half an hour, Logan leading, choosing their path without hesitation, Jean trying her best to keep pace with him. After fighting her way through mud, brambles, and the occasional waist-high log that fell across their path, Jean became tired and cold. She mutely cursed herself for wanting to be a part of this now arduous adventure - for needing to do this to keep the disturbing memories that continued to haunt her from taking over, like they would assuredly have done should she have remained behind alone - for feeling the need to prove herself.

Since the night Duncan and his friends had taken advantage of her incapacitated state, she'd been left feeling helpless...weak...vulnerable. Logan calling her judgement and abilities into question had rankled, pricked something deep within, and she had known with sudden certainty, after he'd admitted his doubts, that she didn't want those feelings living inside her anymore.

As she brooded on that thought, she looked up and watched Logan's solid form moving ahead of her, his muscular body passing through the wet foliage with an ease she envied. Neither the rain nor the darkness seemed to hamper his ability to find their way over the unfamiliar terrain. Combined, these skills - even though she'd always been fully aware of them, urged a swell of grudging admiration to fill her chest, bringing to mind the ever raging question that had tormented her since he'd failed her.

How do I feel about him now?

Anger, disappointment, and an overwhelming sadness were her first reactions to that thought, and had been since the query had surfaced, never changing, not leaving room for any sense of forgiveness. After their encounter in the garden where she'd foolishly admitted her then-feelings for him, she'd believed that her love for him would be enough to bring him around, to help him realize that he had feelings for her. Even when his reaction had been violent, hurtful, prompting her to give him the cold shoulder her injured pride had demanded, she'd still held on to hope. To her mind, his vehemence on the subject only lent credence to her belief that he cared for her more deeply than he knew, and that he'd lashed out in the only manner he could when presented with the truth.

But things had changed in the blink of an eye - irrevocably, and for the worse. She wondered desolately if those changes were truly a permanent part of her now, for both herself and Logan.

Blinded by the rain that battered her face despite the scraggly tree cover, lost in thought, she tripped over another exposed tree root, her outstretched hands wind-milling at her sides in an effort to break her fall. She braced herself for the impact of the sodden ground, only to find her downward motion halted by a pair of warm hands gripping her upper arms. The hands were gentle as they steadied her before pulling her upright - and almost fully against the wide expanse of chest that belonged to Logan.

Startled, instantly unsettled by the unexpected contact, Jean angled her head back, ready to pull away from him - but seeing his face so close to hers caught her off guard.

His lips, moist from the rain and slightly parted with his breathing, were mere inches from her own. Rivulets of water dripped down his face, spiking his lashes together and creating an almost delicate framework for his night-darkened eyes. Looking into those glittering twin pools, feeling his fingers tighten slightly on her arms, the nearness of his body radiating heat against her own chilled skin, left Jean staring up at him helplessly. Her wide eyes searched his face, asking the questions her mouth couldn't form, her constricted chest couldn't provide air to voice. She knew she was trembling in his grip, and admitted to herself that it wasn't due completely to the rain that had so totally penetrated her clothing.

Do I still love you?

After all that's happened, can I still feel for you what I once believed I did?

Are those feelings even possible anymore?

Logan returned her stare, trapped by the other's eyes, seemingly able to pick up on the thoughts flowing through them as quickly as the rain was the sky. His mouth moved, teeth shown as the faintest glimmer of white against the darkness, as if he wanted the use the moment they'd found themselves in to reply to her unspoken questions with secret answers of his own. He drew her closer to him unconsciously without speaking, until her breasts lightly brushed across his chest, her face a hair's breadth away from his.

Nearly pressed against his body, Jean could feel that his breathing had become heavier, faster, and the knowledge left her mouth dry and sent her thoughts spinning. She didn't protest, didn't know what to do, except that she wished he'd say something - anything - that might help her sort out her tangled emotions. She begged him to do so with her pleading eyes while the rain streaked across her cheeks and trickled down her neck.

Logan seemed to want to lean closer to her, to fill the small space he'd left between their bodies. His head wavered with his indecision even as his hips crowded against Jean's, his frame fairly quivering with anticipation. Surprised by this unexpected, uncertain behaviour, she could only watch, breathless and nervously rigid, waiting to see what he was going to do next...

A flash illuminated Jean's vision - white and blinding like a jolt of electricity.

The hands holding her were no longer Logan's.

They were hands holding her down.

The mouth edging towards hers was now set in a face she loathed more than anything else in the world.

Coldness gripped her - and fear...such unreasonable, instantaneous fear...

The memory only lasted a second, but it was enough to send Jean flying back against Logan's hold on her, allowing her to break free, to stand huddled and shivering half a step away. "Don't touch me!" she hissed automatically, thoughtlessly, her voice not sounding like her own.

Oh God... she thought when she realized what had just occurred, what she'd just said. What the hell is happening to me?

Warily, she looked up to Logan, eyes beseeching - but for what, she didn't know.

He'd moved back several steps to give her space, his face like a thunderhead. A low sound was rumbling in his throat as he watched her, but Jean wasn't sure if his anger was directed towards her or himself. She wrapped her arms around her upper torso as the memory of his warmth dissipated, and merely stared back at him, hugging herself tightly.

Logan's shadowed face lost the fierceness in favour of what she could only call grimness, and something else she couldn't read as she studied him.

"Logan..." she whispered, wanting to explain what she'd just experienced, but not able to find the words.

He didn't give her time to collect herself, just waved for her to follow him again. "Watch yer step, Red," was all he muttered, the words barely above a growl, before stalking off ahead of her.

Standing amidst the drowning spring weeds, Jean swiped a hand across her rain-slicked face, attempting to regroup her thoughts as she watched Logan walk away. She shook her head, still not sure what to think about him, herself, or their situation. If anything, what had just happened had left her even more lost, more heartbroken, more numb inside than before.

She hadn't known such combined misery could exist.

The only thing she knew for certain was that Logan by himself - his warmth, the smell of his skin, the ruggedly handsome face she used to dream about kissing - nothing about him had dispelled the new feelings that had infected her of late.

No one can help me, Logan...not even you... she thought before heading off in the direction he'd taken.

She didn't have far to follow, nearly stumbling over his crouched form, it had blended so perfectly into the darkness. Feeling awkward, she squatted down beside him and waited for him to acknowledge her presence - until she saw his gaze directed past the trees they were hunched behind. Trying to reclaim a sense of what she'd been enlisted to do, she mirrored him, squinting through the black rain to see what lay beyond.

Small, twinkling lights were visible in the distance, encircling a large, shadowed building. Jean's discomfort, her despondency, drained away at the sight of their objective, and she found herself wondering once again what secrets this secluded compound harboured, wondered what would prompt the Professor to make them play spy. The possibilities that swam to the surface of her mind were not particularly reassuring.

She glanced over at Logan.

"Now what?" she asked, professionalism at its best.

"We head in," he replied, voice holding no trace emotion, nothing tying him to the scene that had passed between them only a clearing away. He got to his feet and started off towards the installation at an easy lope without another word.

Jean swore under her breath at his version of an explanation and ran after him, focusing instead on how grateful she was that the area around the government building was free of the forest. Moving across the open grassland without having to worry about slipping, tripping, or getting snagged on something was a definite plus.

She caught up to Logan as he paused at the ten-foot high, barbed wire-topped chain link fence, and saw him nod towards her.

"Can you get us over?" he asked.

Jean snorted at the question, vaguely insulted, tempted for just a second to levitate herself over and leave him to fend for himself. Instead she quieted her mind and called up her teke from where it slumbered, feeling the familiar sense of power surge through her body, pulsing through her veins in time with her blood.

The power breathed over and through her, Jean felt it push outward and then retract, as if it were a muscle stretching after a long period of inactivity, felt it flow between her and Logan, surrounding them completely. Without effort, she formed a thought of bringing the two of them over the fence, and suddenly they were airborne, lifting from the ground in tandem, and just as quickly, were set on their feet on the opposite side of the barrier.

"To the wall," Logan breathed the second they landed, grabbing her arm and pulling her alongside him, the long line of their bodies touching with every second step.

They flattened themselves against the smooth concrete of the building, Logan's grip still tight on Jean's arm. He gave it a little tug and motioned for her to slide in his direction.

Jean needed no further urging, having already seen the small utility door set back within the wall, a dull red light above it shining wanly in the drizzle. She watched as Logan popped a single claw from the space between his knuckles, as he shoved that thin blade of adamantium into the keyhole and gave a sharp flick of his wrist. The lock gave a faint popping sound and the door opened at his touch.

Letting out a relieved breath that she hadn't been aware she was holding when no alarm went off, Jean moved in behind him and shut the door silently.

They found themselves in a sterile looking hallway - pale tiled floors, white walls, several doors on either side of the long corridor set at equally spaced intervals. The glare of the overhead lights made Jean blink until her eyes adjusted.

Not speaking, Logan led the way down the hall, making a turn at the first opportunity, looking back only once to make sure Jean was still trailing him. They walked in silence for many minutes, not encountering guards or surveillance cameras or anything that would indicate a form of security, leaving Jean to consider the possibility that they'd been sent out on a wild goose chase. She stared at the back of Logan's head, noting how the damp conditions had seemed to tame his thick, erratic hair into something softer, more touchable - not quite waves, but almost - and wondered if he was getting them lost within the maze of passageways.

After several more twists and turns, Jean was about to voice her theory when Logan halted, holding up a hand for silence as if anticipating her question. Jean froze, mouth open, hands held out stiffly at her side in surprise. Logan, eyes still looking ahead, crept forward soundlessly like a giant stalking cat, passing through one of the many open doorways that lead from one hallway to the next.

As he peered around the corner, Jean felt her heart begin racing beneath her skin, forcing its way up her throat, making her mouth go dry with fear. She watched, waited, for his claws to shoot forth from either hand, for him to leap into action any second...but nothing happened. Her caution only dissipated marginally when she saw Logan's tense stance relax, allowing him to turn and face her. She tried to appear nonchalant, standing up straight and meeting his gaze.

"Thought I heard something," Logan said, giving her the slightest of rueful smiles.

The smile reassured Jean enough to give him a tiny one in return, just before a huge metal door slid down from the top of the doorway between them, clanging home within a groove set into the floor, effectively separating them.

Jean stared at its polished surface dumbly for the space of a heartbeat - as if not sure of what she was seeing, before pressing her hands, her body, against it with a cry. She pushed at the metal futilely, slamming against it with her teke, trying to batter her way through to Logan who was trapped on the other side. Dimly, she heard the scraping of his claws as he tried to do the same thing.

It was no use. The metal was thick, solid, and wouldn't budge, not for her at least.

Jean felt tears of frustration begin to well in her eyes, and slumped, frightened, against the wall. Not knowing what else to do, she let a tendril of her mind snake out, easily bypassing the door and touching Logan's thoughts. Despite her anger and indecision towards him, being able to connect, albeit indirectly, pushed away the first stirrings of panic that threatened to overwhelm her.

Logan! What's going on? What should we do? she projected into his head, not caring if he sensed her fear now. She wanted nothing more than to get out of this silent, empty tomb of a place - important mission or not.

Logan's calm washed over her frantic words, soothing her like warm water, his voice urging her to quiet. Jean dashed away the wetness that had started to cling to her lashes, waiting for his instructions.

It's okay, Jeannie, it's okay. I'm only another hallway over. His words breathed through her mind like a gentle caress, making her shiver.

When she didn't reply, he continued.

Listen to me - I could slice through the door, but it's pretty thick, it'll take time we don't have.

As far as Jean could tell, they had all the time in the world, judging by the lack of response from whoever inhabited the base. But before she could argue with him on that fact, she felt a quiver of readiness, a sense of anticipation, filter through her link with Logan.

What do you mean? she asked warily, not liking the sudden rush that swept through her, knowing that it was only a shadow of what Logan was currently feeling.

I don't think I was mistaken when I heard something earlier - and I don't think this building is as empty as we thought it was. Unless I tripped some kind of movement sensor, I'm betting that whoever runs this place finally knows they've got company...and I don't think they're happy about it.

Are you sure?

As sure as I can be, with what sounds like a couple hundred guys heading my way, yeah.

What do you want me to do? Jean asked, feeling powerless and hating it.

Get yourself outta here, back to the car.

No! I can't leave you here like this! What if -

Don't push this, Red, just do as I say! I can take care of myself. I'll follow you as soon as I can.

But Logan -

It was no use. She was arguing with herself. Logan had severed the connection, leaving her sitting against the wall in the whitewashed corridor without any idea of how to help him. Getting out had been her main priority only a moment before, but not by herself - not without Logan.

Jean's hands wrapped around her waist as she began shivering, waves of repressed emotion starting to surge up from deep within, finally forcing her to admit to herself that she wasn't ready for this. She couldn't handle the fear, the uncertainty, the prospect of danger and violence - it was too reminiscent of another night not so distant, portending a similarly terrible outcome.

As if thinking such thoughts summoned him, Duncan's leering face suddenly appeared in her mind's eyes, laughing at her.

...so easy to take...'weak' means anyone's meat...that's what you are ...

She shook herself, forcing away the voice - the image - the sensations that streamed through her veins like diseased tadpoles tickling beneath her skin, and once again took control of her head, though her teeth ground together with the effort it took to do so. Flashbacks, memories, waking terrors; incapacitating by-products all, thanks to what she'd endured at the hands of her former boyfriend and the now all too frequent nightmares. And they were coming more regularly, becoming increasingly real in Jean's mind, reducing her to the wretched state she was currently in.

I'm not weak, not helpless, not going to give in... she told herself sternly. If I can survive what that bastard did to me, I can deal with anything that's thrown at me tonight - and I can do it on my own.

Girding her strength around her like armor, she pushed away from the wall, eyeing the wide metal door a final time before going back the way she'd come. She felt the flames of anger begin to kindle in her chest, wiping away the uncertain fear that gripped her, letting her feel more sure of herself.

She hurried around a corner.

I'm not going to let these government assholes screw with me, she swore, darting through another passage, picking up speed, not caring if her feet made noise anymore.

And I'm not going to pull the same crap Logan did when our positions were reversed - I'm not going to leave him to fight alone no matter what's happened between us, she promised, lungs heaving as she pushed herself harder.

I'm going to find him and then we'll get out of this place - together.

She continued to run, around one corner then another, down long hallways, letting her telepathy trickle out like silken filaments, searching for a sign of Logan or his adversaries. She found nothing, and so kept moving, never faltering. She might not have stopped had she not rushed through an unfamiliar doorway that looked out over a vast room, the sight of it - and it contents - stealing her breath in shock.

I guess I took a wrong turn... echoed unheeded inside her head as she gazed into the cavernous chamber, all thoughts of Logan's plight forgotten for the few seconds it took her brain to register what she was seeing.

From the outside, the building didn't look large enough to house a space as huge as the one she found herself in, but here it was - and filled up with things that made her green eyes stay wide and kept her mouth open slackly.

Towering hundreds of feet up from the floor below, were row upon row of vaguely man-like machines, the tops of their metal heads nearly touching the rafters of the ceiling. From her current position, Jean could literally reach out and touch the sightless face of the nearest machine, though her hand would be like a speck, the size of a flea, against the immensity of its size.

Finding the ability to breathe normally once again, Jean saw that she was standing on a catwalk that stretched around the entire room. A flight of stairs immediately to her left led down to the next level of the building, and then the next, and so on, until coming to an end at the floor where the feet of the giant machines rested.

She hesitated, torn between the desire to help her teammate, and the now raging curiosity that swept over her at discovering what the Professor had assuredly sent her and Logan to find. The moment of indecision made her waver, take a step backwards towards the door unconsciously - and that's when the closest metal being made the slightest movement.

Jean froze, wondering if she'd alerted it to her presence somehow, if it possessed some kind of sensory activation, when the thing's eyes flared to life, glowing with a new darkness, an intelligence they hadn't shown before. Entranced, Jean watched avidly, like one would an oncoming truck that was about to smash them into oblivion, unable to look away as the man-machine shuddered to wakefulness. One of the tanker-sized arms started to raise from its side, slowly, jerkily, as if it hadn't ever moved before, snapping Jean out of her 'deer caught in the headlights' impression.

I think it's time I found Logan, she told herself, not wanting to see what other abilities the metal man would undoubtedly begin to exhibit should she remain. She cautiously began backing away from the moving thing, hoping it wouldn't notice her as she passed back through the doorway. As soon as she crossed over the threshold into the hallway, she spun around and started running for all she was worth, the sterile passage seeming much longer than she'd remembered now that fear had once again taken hold of her.

She was almost to the first turn, when she heard a booming voice echo behind her.

"MUTANT TARGET IDENTIFIED. INITIATING."

She felt a whoosh of air push past her a second before something tangled around her legs, tripping her so suddenly that she didn't have time to catch herself as she fell. Her face smacked against the hard, tiled floor violently, starbursts exploding in her head upon contact, rendering her immobile as she was dragged back to the room with the now fully animated machine.

Jean looked up, still dizzy from the blow to her head, and saw that slender metal tentacles had coiled around her legs, trapping her from knee to ankle as tightly as a boa constrictor would its prey. She had no time to test the quality of the restraints, however, as she was dragged under the railing of the catwalk and over the edge.

The horrible sensation of free-falling made her stomach spasm and tore a scream from her throat - until, just as suddenly, her descent stopped, leaving her hanging in mid-air, held aloft by the bindings that encased her legs and connected to the giant machine's wrist.

She tried to look up at the barely humanoid face, to see what it was doing, but her movement only caused her to sway, making her stomach gurgle with nausea and a throbbing to flare in her head.

As if this couldn't get any worse, she thought, whimpering in pain.

Jean lashed out with her teke, hoping against hope that she'd be able to free her legs from their bonds and then lower herself to the floor below. If she could get loose from the monstrosity that held her, then all things were possible, even escape. Her mind tried to grip the edges of the coils, tried to force between the many loops, tried to push them down her legs, but to no avail. She continued to try until her head felt like it was going to split from the pain, and was forced to stop, hanging limply like a freshly caught fish.

Only one option was left open to her. Fighting past the thundering headache that stormed through her brain, Jean sent out a telepathic probe, searching for Logan a final, desperate time. As she combed the building for him, she shuddered involuntarily as she once again noticed how closely this night and all that it had held for her so closely mimicked a different evening she wished she could forget. She only prayed that this outcome would be something she'd be able to live with - if she managed to stay alive.

Dammit, Logan, where the hell are you? She wondered exasperatedly when he was still nowhere to be found, the blood rushing from her toes to collect in her upper body now causing her lower extremities to begin tingling uncomfortably.

I suppose he's keeping whoever watches out for these 'things' busy, or else they'd probably be here investigating as to why it's awake, Jean mused, once again trying to peer up at what was holding her. I guess that's a good thing...sort of...

Her movement set the room to spinning so she flopped back down in defeat, pressing her hands against her mouth as another wave of nausea washed over her.

The sudden booming of the machine's voice made Jean flinch.

"MUTANT TARGET APPREHENDED," it announced, the voice sounding hollow from up close.

Holding her breath, Jean waited for it to do or say something further. When it didn't, choosing instead to continue standing where it was and let her dangle, she fought the strange urge to laugh at it.

"I was apprehended like, five minutes ago. You're just realizing this now?" she yelled at it, exasperation and discomfort taking control.

When the machine didn't reply, she did laugh, though at herself.

What were you expecting, Jean? To have a conversation with it? It's just a robot - a big one, maybe, but ultimately nothing more than a bucket of -

"COMMENCING TERMINATION" the machine thundered into the quiet, interrupting Jean's inner dialogue and eliciting a startled gasp.

"Termination?" The word came out from between stiff lips as Jean felt the pressure on her legs intensify, telling her that she was being pulled up.

The giant metal man was definitely moving again, and Jean watched as its head swivelled to stare at her, as the fingers of the hand that she hung from flexed experimentally, as its other arm started to rise in time with her ascent. She could hear all sorts of strange sounds coming from beneath its moulded exterior, like someone had suddenly thrown a switch and brought the creature to full awareness.

Having no desire to see how the machine planned to kill her, Jean called on what was left of her strength, and marshalled her telekinesis into something she could use to her advantage. Rather than trying to free herself, she attacked the thing itself, focusing on its eyes first, ignoring the swell of agony that thrummed through her brain with her efforts. Her gaze narrowed as she aimed, her arm motioning uselessly at her side as she directed the flow of power into the first eye socket. She struck, smashing through the shiny plastic casing instantly.

The machine jerked as if it felt the blow, the coils holding Jean trembling ever so slightly.

Infused with a triumphant rush of adrenaline, Jean smashed through the other eye, hoping she'd rendered the thing blind as bits of machinery rained down over her from above.

The robot's head continued to shake. It was seemingly distracted enough to have forgotten Jean for the moment.

Not wanting to waste the small amount of time she'd gained, Jean looked up to where the metal tendrils that held her legs connected to the giant wrist, saw that the inside of the arm's casing was a series of huge bolts and rods, wires and tubes. Systematically, she began dismantling as much of the inner arm as she could, knowing that if she got in far enough, caused enough damage, she'd get herself free.

More bits and pieces cascaded around her hanging form as she dug into the constructed flesh of the creature with her determined mind, the pain of using her powers screaming from beneath her more insistent will to escape.

I'm doing it! she thought fiercely when one of the metal snakes unravelled from her leg to tumble to the floor below, pushing her to renew her efforts on the remaining coils, keeping her from noticing the other metal arm still coming towards her.

The fire of triumph was thick in her veins, banishing the chill threads of fear that had claimed her earlier, when the laser canon protruding from the machine's opposite arm loomed into view. The barrel of the firing end was large enough that she could have crawled inside and stretched out full length and still not covered it's entirety. It brought with it the sure promise of death, quieting before killing the fire inside Jean, allowing her panic to return and break her connection to her power.

She stared at the black hole that would bring the end of her world in a matter of moments, and despair dragged her determination under its gray waters. Detached, numb, she absently wondered what colour the light of the laser would be.

The first glow of red reflected from deep within the canon's base, and Jean prepared herself for the heat that would wash over her a second later...a heat that never came.

Instead, the glow died as the man machine started convulsing, jerking sharply to one side and swinging her with it. The once forgotten sickness welled up in her again, a warm sensation tickling the back of her throat as she tried to keep the contents of her stomach where they were. She might have succeeded if the arm she hung from didn't choose that exact moment to flail about wildly, snapping her up so that her nose nearly touched the ceiling, and then letting her fall back down to swing crazily.

It was no use. Jean threw up, tears forming in her eyes and trailing over her forehead as the few bites of food she'd managed to eat earlier heaved past her lips to the ground so far below. As soon as the spasms in her stomach stopped, the headache took on a new life, pressing against the bone of her skull as if it too, wanted to push its way out.

The robot was now shaking like broken washing machine, the vibrations from its body filtering down the tendrils of metal that held Jean's legs and making her teeth knock together. So wracked by pain, she wondered if it wouldn't have been better if the damn thing hadn't just fried her and been done with it. She felt the coils that gripped her suddenly give a little, letting her slide through them until just her ankles were trapped, and still the creature shook; bolts, screws, and small metal plates beginning to fall from its body.

Oh god - it's going to drop me! The knowledge screamed through Jean's head as she frantically tried to gauge whether she had enough strength left to catch herself if that happened. Before she could determine that ever so important fact, the tentacles released her, and she fell. Another cry was torn from her throat as she dropped, as she desperately fumbled through the agony in her head to keep herself aloft or at least slow her rate of descent, when someone caught her before she could fall any further.

Instantly, a thought of Logan! shot through her, accompanied by the flood of relief at realizing she wasn't going to end up broken and bloody in her own vomit on the floor below, when the impossibility of that thought became apparent.

She'd been plucked out of midair and was still hanging a good thirty feet above the floor; as impressive as Logan's skills were, he couldn't defy gravity.

She glanced up at the person who'd saved her -

And found her wide-eyed gaze returned by the cold, blue stare of Magneto.

---

Logan leaped with incredible agility over the last pair of soldiers, spinning around to impale both of them on his already gore-splattered claws, watching them drop to the ground with little satisfaction seconds later. As blood pooled around his feet, running thickly from the two twitching bodies, Logan peered around, searching for more enemies to slice and dice.

He looked over the battlefield that the passageways had become, noted the heaps of dead soldiers that lay strewn the length of the corridor he was currently in, and failed to detect any kind of movement that would indicate another adversary. His disappointment was fleeting amidst the flares of primal rage, the heated lust for blood that had consumed him at the start of the fighting, and he quickly continued in the opposite direction he'd come from. His concern for Jean, his need to find her and make sure she was safe, overtook him as surely as his animal side did, quenching his desires of conquest for the moment.

Logan's sharp sense of smell preceded his rapid movement, and, after a mad dash down another brightly lit hallway, he paused when the scent of more people reached his nostrils.

People...and gun oil.

An open doorway just ahead pointed the way to his next foes.

Logan didn't hesitate - he burst into the room, claws bared, an incoherent cry ripped from his throat, his vision tinged with red.

Three startled faces turned to greet his arrival, pale moons in the semi-darkness of what seemed to be a monitoring room of some kind, before Logan's blades took the nearest one in the belly. The man's scream was shrill as the claws sliced upwards and then pulled out, only to trail off in a wet gurgle as his intestines spilled out afterwards. He pitched over, drenched with crimson, his hands vainly trying to stuff his insides back into the open flesh.

One of the two remaining soldiers had managed to pull his sidearm from his holster, training it on Logan's still advancing form. He knocked off a shot, but in his haste the bullet went wide into the wall, and Logan avoided it easily. Reddened claws tore out the shooter's throat before he had a chance to fire again.

The last soldier had pressed back against the wall during the commotion, his hands were spread out at either side, his weapon already laying at his feet where he'd dropped it. His eyes, showing more white than the brown of his irises, were fixed on his fallen comrades, proclaiming his terror. He then looked up to Logan and seemed to realize that death approached. His mouth moved soundlessly while his body shook, before he let himself slide down to his knees, his legs no longer able to support him.

"P-please...please don't kill me," the soldier begged as Logan's clenched fist dropped on level with his terrified face. The drops of blood that dripped from the pointed ends of Logan's claws seemed to entrance the man, and he watched as the dark liquid fell, soaking into the shirt of the most recently killed soldier.

Logan regarded the crouched man with narrowed eyes, his whole being trembling with need to finish him, but he managed to keep the urge under control as he looked his quarry over.

He might be useful - could lead you to what you've been sent find... said the quiet voice in Logan's head, prompting him to retract the blades of one hand back into his skin. That same hand then reached down to grasp the frightened man's collar, yanking him to his feet.

"You know what I'm looking for," Logan bluffed menacingly. "Tell me where it is, and maybe you won't end up like yer buddies."

The black-uniformed man nodded vigorously, wide eyes pleading, hopeful. "Sure - sure! Anything you want," he babbled, rushing over to the computer terminals that the room housed as soon as Logan released him.

Logan looked over the man's shoulder, wondering what he'd killed to find, what so many men had died trying to protect.

As the other man's fingers raced over the numerous keys and buttons that jutted out from the huge console, several monitors flared to life, showing different parts of the installation on each screen. Hallways, a cafeteria, a dormitory, a guard post outside; all flickered and faded, only to be replaced by other images, until each screen shone with the picture of what appeared to be the same room, but at different angles.

Logan became very still when he saw what the computer monitors reflected back at him, not even daring to breathe.

Machines - robots. Too many to count.

Fucking huge, too... Logan thought, no sign of surprise betrayed by his face. When yer right, Charlie, yer right...this looks ugly even from where I'm standing.

"Tell me how to get up close and personal with yer friends," Logan said, knowing he needed to see more before he could leave.

"There's a d-door at the end of this ha-hallway that'll take you to a stairwell. Go down to t-the bottom and follow the first c-corridor. It'll lead you t-to the holding r-room," was the guard's stuttered reply, his eyelids fluttering nervously.

Logan nodded, about to begin his trek down to the sub-levels of the compound, when a large red light began blinking on the console. His eyes narrowed suspiciously.

"What the hell is that?" he ground out, pointing at the beacon with a crimson claw.

The man looked over his shoulder in confusion to see what Logan was gesturing to. Seeing the light flashing, he gasped, fingers once again racing over the keyboard.

"Something's woken up Prototype Alpha-15," the guard reported, gazing up at the nearest monitor.

"Something?" Logan questioned, a feeling akin to trepidation stealing over him as he watched the robot on the screen begin to move.

The other man shook his head, seeming to have forgotten his immediate danger in favour of confusion. "Or someone," he clarified, flipping from one camera angle to the next in an attempt to get a clear image of what was occurring in the room so many floors beneath them.

Two more clicks of the camera, and Logan felt his heart stop at the image he was presented with. A familiar figure, lithe body clothed all in black and green, backing away from the shuddering machine, disappearing through a doorway, red hair trailing behind her.

Jean!

What the hell is she doing? How'd she get down there?

His head reeled as it swarmed with questions, but he had no time to wonder what she was still doing in the base. As he continued to watch the screens, he saw something shoot from the robot's arm into the doorway she'd backed into.

NO! JEAN! His inner voice cried again at witnessing the attack, not knowing what the machine's assault was capable of doing to her.

He was rewarded a second later when he saw her dragged back on screen, struggling, showing that she was still alive. He'd seen enough.

Logan's hand shot out faster than the soldier could have anticipated, taking him around the throat, his grip nearly crushing the man's windpipe.

"Whatever that fucking thing is doing, stop it. Now," he demanded, voice coming out in a feral growl.

The other man's eyes rolled with fear. "I - I can't! I don't know how to override their pro-programming!" The soldier's words were forced out amidst gasps of pain, both of his hands clutching at Logan's in a vain attempt to stop it from tightening on his neck when his ignorance was admitted. "You - you killed the only person h-here who knew how to do that!" The soldier released Logan's hand long enough to point down to the eviscerated body on the floor.

Logan didn't look. Rage was upon him again, and all he could see was a blurred world of red.

With a savage cry, he threw the guard against the far wall, not even waiting to see the man slump to the ground, unconscious, before running from the room, heading to the first door that would lead him to Jean.

I'm coming, Jeannie...I'm coming... echoed repeatedly through his mind as he entered the stairwell, claws bared again, heart throbbing against his rib cage.

Not gonna let anything happen to you...not gonna let you down...

Not this time!

---

Jean stared.

At one of the most feared men in the world.

At the X-Men's greatest enemy.

At the man who'd saved her life.

Magneto didn't say anything as he met her gaze, the blue of his eyes the same icy paleness of a cloudless winter sky - and equally as cold. He looked away a moment later, turning his attention back to the machine that still shuddered alarmingly nearby. Without a word, he began dismantling the thing that had tried to kill her, ripping it apart with his control over all things metal.

He did it almost nonchalantly, without seeming to exert much effort, not even having to gesture to do what he willed. Despite her fear of the man, Jean had to admit that she was suitably impressed by his control, his strength, as the robot was quickly reduced to a heap of twisted scrap metal - awed when nothing of the creature remained but a pile of smouldering circuits and sparking electrical cords. The display was nothing short of incredible.

Magneto, his task complete, turned his gaze back to the girl he held, face still revealing nothing.

Jean swallowed nervously, tasting the acrid sting of bile in the back of her throat, feeling the remnants of tears drying against her skin when she blinked.

She wondered if she looked as pathetic as she felt.

Air breathed up around her softly as Magneto lowered both of them to the ground, his muscled arms firm yet gentle as he continued to cradle her against his chest. When his feet touched the ground, far from the broken machine, he let her slide from his grip, watching her.

Jean was surprised her legs could hold her after being denied proper circulation for what had felt like forever, but they did, albeit shakily. She put her hand against the wall to help steady herself. Secure on her own two feet, she allowed herself to look to the man who stood before her.

"Why did you help me?" she asked when she could speak, her curiosity overriding her gratitude.

One of Magneto's silver eyebrows arched from beneath the red helmet he usually wore, as if he'd taken note of her bad manners, as if she amused him.

Jean still possessed the grace to flush with embarrassment at his look, but was careful in keeping her face neutral.

Magneto curled his lips in a mocking smile that matched the quirked eyebrow. "Would you have rather I left your fate at the hands of the Sentinel?"

Jean shook her head slowly, confused by the latest turn her evening had taken.

"Sentinel?" Her head tilted with the question before turning back to the ruined creature. She appraised it silently for a moment, seeming to replay the entire scene of her capture in her mind as she did so. "It...it identified me as a - as a mutant. It tried to kill me," she whispered finally, horrified as she realized how close it had come to succeeding. Jean felt the blood drain from her face anew, leaving it paler than bleached linen.

"You sound surprised," Magneto replied, eyes narrowing as he watched her.

Jean's looked up to his face, incredulous.

"A mutant-hating robot just tried to vaporise me. It's not exactly something that happens everyday," she ground out, emotions still running high. "Do you even know the meaning of the word understatement?".

Magneto didn't respond, his gaze seeming to weigh her reaction, arms crossing before his chest. A moment later, he sighed. "Then I suppose I am the one who is surprised, child. I would have expected your...mentor...to have better prepared you for this." His hand swept around, encompassing the remaining rows of robots.

Jean's fingers went up to massage her temple, her headache becoming unbearable. She could feel her ire increasing alongside the pain. She was running out of patience.

"What are you talking about? How could the Professor have possibly known about something like this - let alone prepare me or the others for the reality of it? If he had any notion of the danger, you can rest assured that he wouldn't have sent me out here in the middle of the night, risking my life to investigate what he believes is nothing more than a rumour floating around Washington," she replied testily, glaring at him. "And don't call me child. I haven't been one of those for a very long time."

As her fingertips pinched between her eyebrows, trying to alleviate the throbbing in her head, she missed the slight smirk that briefly flit across Magneto's lips. When her eyes re-opened, his face was once again set in stone.

"As you like...Jean," he murmured, nodding towards her.

Jean wasn't sure his using her name familiarly was much of an improvement, but she remained quiet as he continued.

"I merely meant that since the Sentinels have been Xavier's pet project for the last decade or so, that he would have told you about them."

The words slipped out of his mouth so casually, so smoothly, that Jean nearly laughed in his face before she caught herself.

Mutant killing machines were the Professor's idea? Yeah, sure, and he's the Toothfairy on weekends, too... Jean's inner voice said sarcastically.

The man was obviously lying or delusional - or both.

Both was Jean's bet.

Her lips twisted with the effort to keep her amusement contained, but her eyes radiated the disbelief that had instantly sprung to the surface of her mind at his explanation.

Magneto shook his head, his smile seeming to say that her reaction was what he expected. "Of course you wouldn't believe me, the enemy of the man you trust, a man you see as a father." He sounded amused again, before his face hardened, his smile like ice. "And why would you? I only saved your life - from the monstrosity that he helped create."

Jean let out a long suffering breath. She really didn't feel like debating with a lunatic at that moment, but he did have one point: He had helped her.

"Look...Magneto..." She hesitated at saying his name out loud, it felt strange on her tongue. "I'm grateful you came along when you did - believe me, I am, but you're trying to tell me that the Professor has been instrumental in the program that developed the thing that nearly did me in. You've been against him and everything he stands for since day one. Would you trust me or anything that I said if our positions were reversed?" she asked.

Magneto stayed silent for a moment, still smiling, albeit a little sadly.

"No Jean, I don't believe I would," he agreed, his booted feet raising from the floor several inches.

Jean breathed an internal sigh of relief. He was leaving. She could finally go look for Logan and get the hell out of there.

"Regrettably I must be on my way, however much I would like to continue this conversation - though I do have one final question for you, Jean."

"What?" she asked, not caring if she sounded rude. Enough was enough, already.

Magneto's head cocked to one side as he considered the young girl standing before him.

"Such talk of not trusting blindly, and yet you place implicit trust in your precious Xavier. But do you know him as well as you think you do?" His voice was free of the smug confidence - the oily slyness - Jean would have expected to accompany such a query. Instead, he sounded genuinely curious - honest, even, and it made the young telepath hesitate before speaking, the unexpected tone catching her interest. He saw that she was attentive and used the opportunity to continue. "There is another side to your Xavier - a secretive side - hiding the man who does what he thinks is best regardless of what others may believe...the man who was once my dearest friend."

Jean's eyes widened at the last. "Dearest friend?" she blurted out before she could stop herself.

Magneto nodded in cold satisfaction. "Yes, Jean, we were friends - closer than brothers once, but I can see by the look on you face that he has yet to mention that particular point." His lips curled into a bitter half-smile.

Jean was about to reply when a sound from behind caught her attention. Before she could turn to see what or who it was, a ragged cry split the echoing quiet of the chamber, and a figure bounded out of the shadows.

"Logan!" Jean cried at seeing his familiar form, wincing as a streak of pain jolted inside her head.

Dammit all, she thought miserably. If these two start in on each other, we'll be here all night!

Logan didn't pause for pleasantries or explanations, he just leapt at Magneto, claws unsheathed, screaming his rage at the person he now saw as the threat to Jean's safety.

Jean called for him to stop, even going so far as to test her powers against his rapid assault, but she was still too weak. The attempt left her feeling faint, and she would have fallen if she hadn't caught herself against the wall. She could only stand and watch the beginnings of what would surely be a lengthy, terrible battle.

But Magneto didn't seem too interested in the idea of a fight either. He flicked his hand, almost contemptuously, in Logan's direction, stopping the other's furious advance in mid-air.

Jean's breath stilled in her throat.

Aside from watching the violet-cloaked mutant take the Sentinel apart minutes earlier, she'd never actually seen him use his powers - especially against one of the X-Men. That he'd been able to halt Wolverine so effortlessly left her shocked, impressed, and frightened all at the same time. She watched as Logan strained against the waves of magnetic energy that held him - or rather his adamantium skeleton - immobile, heard his voice as little more than a series of growls.

Magneto actually looked past the trapped mutant, seeming to disregard him at a glance, to catch Jean's wide eyes. She stared back at him, not knowing what else to do.

"Ask yourself how well you truly know the man you trust with your life, Jean - or the man you think you know. When you're ready to learn the truth, I can help you find it." The new mirth that lit up his sky blue eyes at Logan's predicament seemed to belie the seriousness of his tone.

Jean blinked at him, wondering if he was waiting for her to nod or something.

He seemed to take her silence for understanding, though, and raised another several feet higher into the air, safely past the point where Logan and his angry claws could still get to him. And then, like some bizarre magician, he waved his hand again and Logan was free.

The smaller mutant tumbled to the cement floor with the suddenness of the release, startling Jean in turn. Logan was on his feet before she could take a step towards him, his head whipping up to gauge the distance of his enemy, but he was too late. The Master of Magnetism had already taken flight, disappearing into the vaulted ceiling's shadows.

When it looked as if Logan was going to take off in pursuit of the other man, Jean decided that she'd had more than enough.

"Logan...LOGAN!" she called, trying to get his attention.

He whirled around, his face full of anger.

"Can we please go home now?" The request came out as little more than a whisper, and Jean could feel a tightness scratching at her throat, a heat building behind her eyes. She knew that if she so much as blinked again, she'd be back to crying. Only this time, being so emotionally drained, so wracked with pain, it would take nothing short of unconsciousness to get her to stop. It was not a heartening thought.

She watched as the mask of fury bled away from Logan's face at her words, as they brought him back to the present, leaving him staring at her, hands hanging uselessly at his sides, naked anguish written across his features. He had to take a deep breath and swallow once before he could respond to her request.

"Yeah, Jeannie...we can go home."

---

The drive back to the mansion was as silent as the journey to the installation had been, the muffled, rhythmic 'thwump...thwump...thwump' of the car's wipers serving as the only interruption. The rain had slackened until it was nothing more than a fitful drizzle misting from the dark clouds overhead.

Logan peered through the windshield at the road ahead, trying to keep his mind on driving. It was no easy task, as feelings of impotence, inadequacy, and anger still thrummed through his body. He still couldn't believe he'd failed at protecting Jean - again - and that Magneto of all people had stepped up in his place.

The shame, the seething fury associated with that part of his night was simply too much to bear.

As the miles sped by, as the quiet deepened, as Logan's brain tried to pinpoint the exact moment he'd become so completely useless, Jean cleared her throat and half-turned to face him.

"Logan...how long have you know the Professor?" she asked hesitantly, as if reluctant to speak.

Surprised she felt like conversation after the evening they'd just had - to say nothing of her choice of topic, Logan shot her a quizzical look. "I don't know," he said softly, taking a moment to think. "Maybe ten years or so. Why?"

He couldn't see her shake her head in the shadowed confines of the car, but heard the rustle of her drying clothing as she did so.

"It doesn't matter. It's...nothing," she replied.

Thinking that Jean speaking to him about anything was better than existing in silence, Logan persisted. "If something's on yer mind, Jeannie, just get it out. What do you want to know?"

He heard her sigh, shift in her seat, and then her intake of breath.

"Do you...do you think that it could be at all possible that the Professor..." She paused as if seeking the right words.

"What?" Logan prompted.

"Could the Professor have been involved with those machines back at the base?" Jean's voice spilled out in a rush, her fingers twisting in her lap, white against the darkness.

At first Logan didn't understand what she was asking, his brow furrowed as he tried to make sense of the question.

"Involved? What do you mean?"

She didn't respond, just continued to stare resolutely ahead as if wishing she'd kept quiet, watching as the black asphalt of the road disappeared beneath the SUV's distance-hungry tires.

And then something clicked in Logan's head as he mulled her words over to himself, something Magneto had said to Jean before taking off. He hadn't given it much thought originally, too furious at being bested by a man he loathed had taken up all his brain space. But now...

Ask yourself how well you truly know the man you trust with your life, Jean, or the man you think you know. When you're ready to learn the truth, I can help you find it...

Realization dawned on Logan as he replayed what he'd heard in his mind, and was quickly replaced by disbelief.

"Jean, what did he say to you before I got t' that room?" he demanded, shocked that she'd take anything that madman had said to heart, no matter how insignificant it may have been.

"He told me that the Professor had been involved with the Sentinel project from the start," she murmured, as if embarrassed by saying something so negative about the man who had done so much for her.

"And what? You believed him?" Logan shot back, eyes wide at the prospect.

Jean jumped at his harsh tone and her fingers went up to her head, massaging. The aspirin she'd taken from the first aid kit in the trunk still hadn't kicked in yet. She turned an indignant face to him. "Of course not! How could you even think such a thing?" she countered defensively, arms going to cross her chest.

Quiet descended again for a few seconds until Logan heard her mutter, "It just seemed like an odd thing for him to lie about."

"The guy's a raving nutcase! Who knows where he gets all those crazy ideas he's always goin' on about! Do you think the Professor is the kind of person who'd be involved with a program that makes giant mutant-hunting machines?" Logan argued.

"No," Jean admitted, suitably chastised.

"Good!" Logan nodded, still flabbergasted that she'd listened to anything Magneto would say, let alone dwell on it.

It's not her fault, he reasoned with himself. She's been through so much in such a short period of time that she's bound to get mixed up, confused. Whatever emotional state she's been put in has left her vulnerable - open to suggestion, that's all...

He glanced over at her, concerned as he took in her slender arms hugging her body tightly, a pose she'd only adopted recently. He couldn't help but hate it - it was body language at it's loudest, reminding him that parts of her were still broken inside, and that it was his fault.

Yeah, she's been hurt badly, and that can change even the steadiest of people...

Logan frowned as he looked away.

There just couldn't be any other reason Jean would listen to Magneto...could there?

As his thoughts occupied his mind, quiet reigned.

Rain pattered with increasing force on the roof of the car.

The miles rushed by.

"You know," Logan said softly, his concerns finally getting the better of him. "Xavier might be waiting for us when we get in. Maybe it's time for you talk to him about the...stuff...that's been going on."

Jean looked over at him sharply, his words breaking her out the daze the rocking motion of the car had lulled her into, her eyes bright with a strange mixture of heat and fright.

"What do you mean - stuff?" she asked, sharp tone unable to mask the hint of panic underneath.

Logan let out a slow breath. "You know, what happened tonight with the Sentinel, your little chat with Bucket Head..." He steeled himself, knowing that she wasn't going to like what he had to say next.

"...last week's dance - "

"NO!" she shouted, cutting him off before he could say anything further.

"Jeannie - " Logan tried again.

"He doesn't need to know about anything! Do you understand me? No one does!" She leaned closer, as if using her movement to punctuate her vehement words. "If you hadn't been indirectly involved with - with what happened, I wouldn't have told you either!" she added forcefully.

Logan shook his head in disagreement. "Jean, keeping something like this from the rest of the team is one thing, but there shouldn't be any secrets between you and Xavier."

"It's my secret to keep, Logan! My body, my pain, my decision!" she yelled, open palm slapping the plastic console between them loudly.

His lips parted to argue further when she cut him off again.

"Besides, the Professor isn't someone who should care about secrets, is he?" she quipped sarcastically.

Logan formed an angry reply, but Jean continued without pause.

"He didn't bother to tell me or the other students that Mystique was, in fact, our Principal - and now I hear, from the most unlikely source, that he and Magneto were once the best of friends. What else hasn't he told us that might be helpful to know, hmm? And you think I should just open up the floodgates and pour out my innermost thoughts when I haven't even begun dealing with them myself? To try and say the words I can't even think let alone form with my mouth? Talk to him about feelings I can't begin to define? To hell with that, Logan - it's not happening," she swore, the smell of her anger overpowering all of her other scents, making Logan's sensitive nose twitch.

She gave him an icy look after she'd taken a breath. "And just so we don't have any misunderstandings, remember your promise to me, Logan. You swore you'd never tell anyone about what happened. I'm trusting you to keep your word."

Logan shook his head in exasperation, hurting to hear the fear in her voice, but managed to mutter an affirmative.

When she'd come to him after arriving home from the Brotherhood house the morning after her ordeal, she'd only asked one thing of him: to keep her secret. He would have promised her anything, obeyed any request she might have made - whatever it took to try and make reparation for what had happened, to make her smile again. But all she'd wanted was his vow of silence, an oath to never mention what he knew to anyone unless she said otherwise.

He'd agreed without hesitation.

But how binding was his word if it meant he was protecting her by breaking it? Or protecting the team? Was it worse to hold his tongue, if by doing so brought greater harm - or loosing it and hurting Jeannie, even though it might help her in the process? What reasons could be considered worthy? Was letting Magneto fill her head with doubts and suspicions cause enough to worry about her mental state - or was he just overzealously concerned?

His mind flew over such thoughts as he turned the SUV onto the road that meandered through the heart of Bayville, and would ultimately bring them home.

---

The door to the mansion opened soundlessly as Jean pushed it inward, stepping across the threshold to escape the rain and dampness without. Once inside, the warmth of the house enveloped her reassuringly, like an old friend welcoming her back. She kicked off the black boots she wore with her uniform, toes scrunching in the soft carpeting as she sighed, before shivering as a blast of cold air swept past her as Logan entered the foyer, shutting the door behind him.

Barefoot and without a backward glance, she padded towards the stairs, a hot bath the only thing on her mind - when she heard a voice calling from deeper within the house.

"Logan, Jean! Finally you're back, and safely at that," Xavier said, obviously relieved, his wheelchair rolling into view at the end of the hallway. His eyes swung between her and Logan curiously. "Did everything go well?" he asked, fingers making a steeple beneath his chin as he appraised them.

"Yeah, Chuck. Peachy," Logan muttered just as Jean said "Absolutely, Professor."

"Why don't you both come into my study and give me a full report? After you get changed into something more comfortable, of course," he said, amending his invitation at seeing Jean's longing look dart towards the stairs.

"I won't be long, Professor," she said wearily, gratefully, having imagined sinking into a steaming hot tub since escaping the government base and all during the drive home. Not only would it chase away the rainy chill that had seemingly settled in her bones, but she was covered in splatters of mud from her journey through the forest. She couldn't relax until she was clean, warm, and dry - in that exact order.

"Don't worry, Jeannie. Go up and have yer bath, I'll keep the Professor company until yer done," Logan said as he pulled off his own boots and tossed his leather jacket to the floor.

She caught his eyes when he looked up at her, her gaze piercing and insistent. One quiet thought was sent to echo through his head.

Remember...remember what you promised me...

As he nodded to her telepathic message, eyes downcast, Xavier waved for Logan to follow him.

Jean continued up the stairs, leaving the two men below.

"I'm sure you have a lot to tell me, Logan," the slender man was saying as he wheeled himself towards the brightly lit study.

Logan, with one final look at Jean's retreating figure, shook his head, torn.

"You have no idea, Chuck."

---

Jean let her head fall back against the porcelain rim of the bathtub, eyes closed, the calming scent of sweet sandalwood rising from the water with the steam. Experimentally, she stretched her legs, sighing when she felt her taut muscles loosen, the heated liquid and fragrant oil helping to ease away the tension in her battered body.

Her headache had even begun to dissipate - aside from a slight tingling sensation that had just started.

It's just the aspirin working - finally...

She sunk low in the water, up to her chin, and stared sleepily at her unpolished toenails as they peeked out at her from the other end of the tub. Studying the pinkness of the flesh that surrounded them, Jean pondered what Magneto had said to her at the government base for yet another time. Her brows drew together in irritation as she thought.

It was maddening. How could she be entertaining anything that man had said to her, let alone allowing his words to cast doubt on the Professor? So what if they had been friends before - the Professor was entitled to his own life, his own problems, his own past...wasn't he? What he'd done prior to assembling the X-Men wasn't any of her business, just as she was free to keep her own counsel on certain issues. Sure, knowing about his prior relationship with Magneto might have helped her and the others understand the animosity between them, but what else would it have accomplished?

Nothing... she told herself resolutely, splashing her face.

Her motions halted for a moment as her mind sorted through her thoughts.

Why was there animosity? She wondered as slender fingers wiped rivulets of aromatic water from her eyes. Was it because they shared different opinions about mutants? About how to best use their powers? Or was it because of something else entirely?

She reached past her knees to pull the plug and watched as the water began swirling down the drain.

Is that why the Professor assembled all of us? Her mind asked unbidden, the question making her blink. Not to train us so that we could live with humans in peaceful coexistence, not to better the world...but to use us to help settle the score with his former friend? To serve as pawns in his plan for revenge?

She bit her lip as she reasoned the facts out a little further.

If any of that is possible...then chances are he could have helped create the Sentinels...but for what purpose?

Jean took a deep breath before climbing out of the now half-empty bath, grabbing for a large, white towel without seeing it. Her eyes scrunched closed as she tried to banish such treasonous, unworthy thoughts from her head.

All Magneto has to do is open his mouth, and I fall for his garbage like the worst kind of idiot... she scolded herself roundly, rubbing the soft fabric of the towel along the length of her body viciously. The Professor is one of the few people I genuinely respect and admire - I love him as much as do my own parents. I owe him my faith and trust regardless of what I may hear, especially considering the source...

Wiping the steam-clouded mirror with the end of her towel, she stared at her reflection sternly when she could see it.

"No more crazy thoughts, no more analyzing the man you've known nearly half your life. He's never done anything even remotely circumspect before, never caused you to question his actions. He deserves better than this," she murmured to the girl staring back at her from the polished surface.

As she slipped her nightshirt over her still damp hair, she realized that her headache was totally gone - warm tingle and all.

---

Logan was leaning against the Professor's large mahogany desk, watching the flames that crackled fitfully in the fireplace, a glass of whiskey in hand, when Jean opened the door. He looked up as she entered the room, his eyes guarded. Before he could say anything to her, Xavier motioned her over to where he was sitting.

She walked over to the overstuffed chair that was opposite her mentor and sat down gingerly as if stiff, tucking her bare legs under her body a second later.

Logan watched Xavier as the other man regarded the newest arrival, raising his glass to his lips and taking another mouthful of the liquor. The liquid traced a burning path down his throat, but he paid it no mind. His heart was pumping too furiously within his chest for him to notice anything else.

The Professor favoured Jean with a concerned look before speaking.

"Logan tells me you've had quite an adventure this evening, Jean. Are you alright?" His cultured voice floated about the room.

Jean ran a distracted hand through the damp tendrils of her hair, eyes downcast. "Yeah, it was...pretty intense, to say the least. But I'm fine," she replied.

Xavier nodded slowly, as if not quite satisfied, and then glanced over to Logan as if asking a question without words.

Logan let out a quiet breath and let his head fall forward, unable to keep his eyes from skipping away from the Professor to stare at the carpeted floor.

"Jean," Xavier spoke again, hesitantly, turning back to her. "You're among friends, now. You can tell us the truth."

Jean bit at the end of one of her fingernails distractedly. She flashed Logan an anxious look, one that he couldn't meet, before starting to speak - recounting how she and Logan arrived at the base, how they became separated, her meeting with the Sentinel, and Magneto's timely interference. All during her report, Logan noticed how she refused to return Xavier's steady stare.

Xavier waited for her to finish before taking a sip from the cup of coffee that rested behind him on the desk, using the minutes he took to drink to seemingly absorb the information that had been presented, but Logan knew otherwise.

The Professor was just searching for the most delicate way to proceed with the next round.

During the uncomfortable silence that endured during this time, Logan allowed his gaze to wander over Jean, distancing himself from what was transpiring.

He wasn't surprised that she was as beautiful as ever, even in the recently dimmed lights of the study - the soft, smoky glow radiating from the massive hearth, and a faraway lamp now served as the only illumination in the library-like room. The play of firelight was reflected in her eyes as she continued to stare at the floor, it caught in her water-darkened hair so that it shimmered, blood red and alive, it warmed her cream-coloured skin to a velvety, honeyed amber. Over the faint smell of wood smoke, his nose was assailed with the sweet, heady fragrance of whatever oil she used in her bath, urging a swell of heat to slowly begin pumping through his veins.

He had to fight to make the quivering breath that escaped his lips as he inhaled her in sound like a tired sigh. Thankfully, neither of the room's other occupants seemed to notice his strange gasping.

"Jean," Xavier finally began, voice sounding tortured. "There's no easy way for me to say this, but skirting the issue isn't going to lessen the difficulty in bringing it up, nor is it fair to you."

His eyes managed to capture Jean's, and, after he set his mug back on the desk, one of his hands reached out and covered one of hers. Logan winced internally as he saw her flinch from the contact, watched as the Professor drew away slightly without changing expression. But what really made Logan worry wasn't that Jean didn't seem to be amenable to Xavier's fatherly overtures, but the strange, fixed mask her face had become at his statement.

"You mean my little chat with Magneto," Jean supplied suddenly, tone higher than usual in her nervousness, fingers smoothing over her robe where it pooled in her lap.

Logan felt a hot flush crawl up his neck as the young telepath favoured him with a blank stare and rigid smile before she turned her attention back to the Professor.

"It's really nothing to worry about, Professor," she insisted, twisting the fabric with hands that had gone white at the knuckles. "The lies that man concocts and tries to pass off as the truth are comical." She gave a weak laugh that trailed off into silence as she read the look in the eyes of the man before her.

"Logan shouldn't have bothered telling you about that, it's not important," she murmured a second later.

Xavier sighed, head dipping forward a fraction, a hand going up to smooth over the hairlessness of his scalp. And then he was collected again, facing his charge with a seriousness that seemed to take away from the concern he was exhibiting.

"It must have been important in some way, or you wouldn't be struggling with the inner turmoil that I've been able to sense since you returned home. You wouldn't be doubting yourself - or me," he challenged.

Jean's fidgeting stopped, the robe falling from her nerveless fingers. "W-what do you mean?" Her voice was barely above a whisper, blood draining from her face in shock. "How would you know what I've been..." Her words died mid-sentence, her eyes widening in incredulous disbelief as she realized what Xavier was alluding to. It took a moment, her lips struggling to move past the numbness that seemed to have taken over.

"You know because you...you went into my head," she whispered, hand touching the side of her face as she remembered the odd tingling sensation that had plagued her during her bath.

It hadn't been the medicine - it had been a skillfully administered assault on her mind.

"Jean?" Xavier queried when she fell silent.

She looked up slowly at the sound of her name, the reflected glow of the fire not detracting from the iciness that slowly filled her blinking green eyes.

"How could you do something like that?" she asked breathlessly, her question directed to the Professor even as her eyes shifted to Logan.

"You know I consider the practice of entering a person's mind without their consent abhorrent, Jean, but in this case I felt it a necessary evil. I couldn't be sure that you'd agree to an evaluation in your...current frame of mind," Xavier said in a reasoning tone.

Jean's lips compressed into a thin, white line. "What do you mean, current frame of mind?"

Logan's stomach lurched as Jean asked the question that would bring everything out into the open. He scrunched his eyes shut, a lock of unruly hair tumbling over his brow as he turned away from the two telepaths. His guilt was nearly unbearable, making it hard to breathe, kick-starting his heart rate into overdrive as he waited for the Professor to answer her. He tried to remind himself that no matter how wrong he might be feeling, the end results - like Jean getting the help she so desperately needed - were what were most important.

Some secrets were just too dangerous, too harmful, to be kept.

Jean, taking note of Logan's slumped frame and obvious unhappiness, merely nodded before the Professor could admit to knowing what she already knew he'd been informed about. "He told you, didn't he?" she asked softly, her trembling chin the only outward sign of emotion.

Xavier couldn't hide the pitying expression in his eyes as he watched the student that was like a daughter to him seem to wilt at his nod. "Yes, Jean, he did. Not to cause you pain, but out of concern - because he cares about you like I care about you," he replied.

Logan's eyes opened to meet Jean's, not bothering to hide his plea for understanding - trying without saying that what he'd done had been for her regardless of what she may think - that after considering the options, he'd decided that by breaking his word he'd be able to help her more than the depth of his feelings ever could - and though both of them suffered now because of that decision, he willed her to believe that it was the only avenue left open to him.

Because he loved her.

Jean stared at him for what felt like an eternity to Logan, her face revealing nothing, before she got up from her chair in one fluid motion, the folds of her robe tumbling down around her legs like a curtain. She didn't say anything as she made for the door, hand reaching blindly for the knob.

"Jean, please listen to me. I want to help you work through this - we both do, but we need your co-operation to do so. If this is too overwhelming tonight, I can understand that, but if not now, then when?" Xavier asked while wheeling his chair after her.

Jean's hand fumbled at the doorknob as she regarded the approaching man with a look that suggested she was looking right through him. A vague smile clung to her lips as she nodded at the Professor, not giving any kind of coherent response, but before he could press the matter, she'd managed to pull the door open and escape through to the night-darkened hallway beyond.

Xavier propelled himself forward as if intending to follow her, but Logan stepped over to him and placed a hand on his shoulder.

"Leave it for now, Chuck. Let her sleep on it. I don't think she's up to anything else tonight," he muttered in defeat.

Xavier patted Logan's hand reassuringly. "You're probably right, however much I wish to it to be otherwise. I'm probably not in the best frame of mind to be handling such a delicate matter right now, either...still too shocked. Maybe the morning will clear her head some - help improve her outlook on the situation, and she and I can begin some much needed therapy sessions."

Logan grunted noncommittally and started to make his way out the room when Xavier cleared his throat.

"And Logan," he said when the other man paused. "I appreciate you telling me. Someday, Jean will return the sentiment."

Logan's mouth twisted sardonically as he shook his head, hands stuffed into the pockets of his jeans.

"I wish I could believe you, Charles, but after the way she looked at me tonight, something tells me that hell will freeze over first."

He left the room after that, leaving his friend to the solitude of the fire and his own thoughts.

---

Logan caught up to Jean as she reached the top of the staircase.

"Jean, wait a second," he called, attempting to put himself in her path so that she'd have to listen to what he had to say. "I want to explain - "

Jean's head slowly raised to stare at him.

Logan's entire body froze mid-stride.

The look on her face, so devoid of human emotion, so blank, was almost eerie in its steady calm. It took him aback and caused his voice to waver, well-meaning words dying in his throat unspoken. Her green gaze, seeming nearly black in the shadows of the corridor, was empty, as lifeless as a doll's. Logan suddenly felt himself wanting to take a step away from her when he saw those eyes - they disturbed him like nothing else had in long, long time.

"Jean?" Her name was little more than a whisper in the darkness.

She continued to regard him for the space of several heartbeats, face unchanging, before turning around and silently treading down the hall.

Logan watched as her bedroom door swung outward before she'd even reached it, mouth working soundlessly as he tried to think of something that would get through to her, bypass whatever barricades she'd thrown up to protect herself with.

She stepped into the room, beginning to disappear inside, the door closing quietly behind her...

"Jean - I had to tell him, I had no choice!" He finally blurted out, rewarded when he saw her pause as if waiting to hear what else he had to say. Logan swallowed once, his chest tight, thoughts reeling. "And he was right," he heard himself say. "I did it because I do care about you...more than I believed possible."

His words hung in the air between them, pregnant with hidden truths, holding them both where they stood. Logan knew that he'd finally given her the opening she'd been wanting for so long, an obscure invitation to share in the feelings that she'd brought out in him, emotions that, up until recently, he'd denied existed.

He hoped it would be enough.

Jean's face appeared in the crack between the door and the wall, pale, beautiful...unyielding.

Logan held his breath, expectant as she appraised him.

"No," was her monotone response. "I don't think you ever did."

She closed the door...and shut him out.

Logan couldn't turn away from where he'd last seen her face, even as the brightness began to fade from his eyes, leaving him cold with anger once again. He remained standing at the edge of the hall a few minutes longer, hands clenching and unclenching at his sides, a bitter taste filling his mouth, before seeking out his own bed.

He knew that sleep would elude him that night, though, and for many nights after, he was sure.

Despair had a way of doing that to a guy.

---

I was stained, with a role, in a day not my own
But as you walked into my life you showed what needed to be shown
And I always knew, what was right I just didn't know that I might
Peel away and choose to see with such a different sight...

The rain was stronger now.

It pelted down from an uncaring sky the colour of soot, adding to the thickness of the night and the chill in the air. Heavy, fat droplets joined those that had fallen before them, forming large, dark pools where natural depressions in the ground allowed them to, the soil too saturated from the day's previous downpour to accommodate any more liquid.

And I will never see the sky the same way and
I will learn to say good-bye to yesterday and
I will never cease to fly if held down and
I will always reach too high cause I've seen, cause I've seen, twilight...

Betrayed.

The mud squelched beneath her bare feet as she walked, pushing up between her toes, only to wash away beneath the constant, steady drizzle.

She should have been cold, shivering within her sodden clothing, trembling from the damp and wet, but she wasn't.

She should have been concerned about the dirt flying up at every other step, splattering the hem of her nightgown and the backs of her calves, but she wasn't.

Nothing could touch her.

She was already numb.

Never cared never wanted
Never sought to see what flaunted
So on purpose so in my face
Couldn't see beyond my own place
And it was so easy not to behold what I could hold
But you taught me I could change
Whatever came within these shallow days...

Lied to.

With an unhurried gait she continued to walk, eyes forward, not looking back at the sprawling house that loomed over her shoulder. She knew that if she did, if she hesitated for even a second, her nerve would dissolve and she'd be lost.

Approaching the stand of trees that announced the beginning of the forest that surrounded the estate, she stopped, not needing to turn around to know he was there.

She wasn't sure how, but she knew that he would be.

And I will never see the sky the same way and
I will learn to say good-bye to yesterday and
I will never cease to fly if held down and
I will always reach too high cause I've seen, cause I've seen...

Strangely, his presence reassured her, prompting her to speak first.

"You said that you'd show me the truth...when I was ready." Her voice was soft, but she knew that it had carried over the sound of the wind and rain, knew that he'd heard.

"Yes," the figure behind her replied, a shadow within the shadows.

She half-turned to face him, not surprised to see him only a few feet away.

She could feel his eyes on her, could feel the weight of his power pressing against her like it was a tangible thing.

She walked over to him so that she could see his face, staring at him intently.

As the sun shines through it pushes away and pushes ahead
It fills the warmth of blue and leaves a chill instead and
I didn't know that I could be so blind to all that is so real
But as illusion dies I see there is so much to be revealed...

Deceived.

Unloved.

Broken.

"I'm ready."

And I will never see the sky the same way and
I will learn to say good-bye to yesterday and
I will never cease to fly if held down and
I will always reach too high cause I've seen, cause I've seen, twilight...

Magneto nodded, as if he expected nothing less, and extended his hand to her.

Jean looked at it without moving, watching how the rain slid over the glove that he wore, knowing that this was it.

The point of no return.

I was stained, with a role, in a day not my own
But as you walked into my life you showed what needed to be shown
And I always knew, what was right
I just didn't know that I might
Peel away and choose to see with such a different sight...

She placed her smaller hand into his larger one, and felt the magnetic field that encompassed his hovering form stretch and expand so that it included her as well. Her body rose into the air, feet dangling over the puddle she'd been standing in, water dripping from her toes to fall back down to earth.

She allowed him to pull her closer as they lifted away from the ground...

Away from the mansion...

And away from the life she was leaving behind.

And I will never see the sky the same way and
I will learn to say good-bye to yesterday and
I will never cease to fly if held down and
I will always reach too high cause I've seen, cause I've seen, twilight...

---

Author's Notes:

Just a short point - I know that 'modern' Sentinels have been created without much metal in them, but in early days, Magneto was able to pretty much tear them apart like he does everything else. I'm sticking with that angle for the time being.