Disclaimer: I don't own any of them. Duh.

Author's Note: This story is set in the same universe as First Sight (which is also the early universe of Snow). This universe inspired by the wonderful stories by joanofarc15. Read her stuff – it's all great!

Chapter 1

Hundreds of faceless voices swirled around her, creating a vortex of confusion. She huddled in a tight ball, head resting on her knees, hands pressed tightly to her ears in an attempt to block out the incessant noise. She didn't know how long she'd been there, or even where there was. All she knew was that she was confused and scared and that the voices wouldn't stop, wouldn't stop, wouldn't stop. She wanted to scream at them, she wanted to fight them, but she couldn't – she wasn't strong enough, she didn't know how.

Wait. It was back – the Good Voice, the one that seemed to be able to drown out the others, to drive the others back, if only for a while. It called to her, kind and strong, reaching out to her. It was louder than before, and this time she could understand what it was saying.

It's all right. Let me help you, the Good Voice implored.

How? she called, searching for the owner of the voice. I don't know what to do!

Just clear your mind. Focus on my voice. I'll do all the work, you just have to let me.

She hesitated, scared to trust, but scared of the alternative.

Don't be afraid. I want to help you; let me help you. Trust me.

The voice faded as the others once again grew stronger, louder, and the confusion began to creep into her mind again. NO! she screamed, searching frantically for the Good Voice. Come back, please! Don't go! Help me!

The voices swarmed her, making her dizzy. She tried to do as she'd been told, to clear her mind. But it was so hard, and there were so many voices, so many voices, so many voices! They crashed over her in waves, coming faster and growing louder, dragging her under, making her gasp for breath. She was drowning.

Time passed, but how much, she didn't know. The voices continued to assault her, to overwhelm her. She listened for the Good Voice, waiting and hoping for it to return. And it did. This time she was able to focus on it, and latched onto it in desperation. She cleared her mind, tried so hard to keep it clear and to focus on the Good Voice. The other voices oh so slowly faded until they became a distant buzz. Then finally blissful silence. She wept in relief, and let the quiet envelop her in its velvet warmth.

In the bright hospital room, Professor Charles Xavier opened his eyes and wiped the perspiration from his brow. He smiled gently and looked down at the 10-year-old girl lying in the bed, wires and tubes running from her body to a number of beeping and pulsing machines. Her red hair fanned out on the pillow, and the peaceful expression on her face gave no indication of the inner turmoil, of the battle he had just helped her win in her mind.

"Thank you, Jean," he murmured, "for allowing me to help you find your way back."

*****

A week later, Professor Xavier was back at the hospital, this time with his associate Ororo Munroe. They were there to collect Jean Grey, to take her to Xavier's School for Gifted Youngsters. There, Charles would teach Jean to develop and control the powerful mutation that had kept the girl in a coma for almost two years, since the day she had witnessed – felt – the death of her best friend.

Charles was speaking with John and Elaine Grey, finalizing the details and signing the papers that would provide Xavier legal guardianship of the young girl. Jean sat on the edge of the bed, dressed to travel, staring out the window; she was trying to ignore the adults' conversation while fighting back tears.

Her parents were giving her away. Or at least, they might as well have been; Professor Charles Xavier was her new guardian, and she would live with him and his colleagues on his estate in Westchester. And she knew why – because she was a mutant. Her parents didn't want a freak for a daughter, so they were sending her away to live with strangers.

She shuddered with self loathing, wrapping her thin arms around her even thinner body. Even with the daily physical therapy they'd performed on her while she'd been unconscious, her muscles had withered during her extended hospital stay, and she was barely more than skin and bones. She was so weak she could hardly walk to the bathroom without having to stop and take a break.

"So, Jean, are you ready to go?" the Professor asked, turning kind eyes towards her. She met his gaze briefly, then dropped her eyes to stare at her hands, now clasped tightly in her lap.

"Yes, sir," she replied quietly.

She didn't see the look exchanged by her parents. "We're trying to do what's best for you, Jean. You understand that, don't you?" Elaine asked as she approached the bed and rested her hand on her daughter's head.

Jean nodded silently.

"Sweetheart, we love you very much. We just want you to get better," her father told her, hugging her and kissing her cheek. Jean fought against the tears that burned so hotly behind her eyes. She blinked furiously, and kept her head stubbornly down turned, refusing to look at her parents.

"We'll call later to see how you've settled in," Elaine said as John ushered her out of the small room. Again, Jean nodded, biting her lower lip in a combination of anger and fear; anger at her parents for abandoning her, fear of what the future held for her at Xavier's.

"Charles?" a warm, soft voice called from the doorway. Jean glanced up at this new voice to see the most beautiful woman she'd ever seen: tall and elegant, coffee colored skin, white hair, blue eyes, regal features. Jean stared at her in awe.

"Jean, I would like you to meet Ororo Munroe," Charles introduced them.

"It is a pleasure to meet you, Jean." Ororo smiled kindly at her, and Jean felt much of her trepidation disappear. Pushing a child-size wheelchair into the room, Ororo approached Jean's bed. "Would you like me to help you into the chair?"

Jean shook her head and slid off the bed, took three hesitant steps and lowered herself into the chair. Xavier smiled at her, motioning to his own wheelchair. "Well, we're a matched set then." Jean felt her lips twitch and fought back a smile as they left the room that had been her home for two years.

The drive to the Institute wasn't as long as Jean had expected, only a couple of hours. She stared out the window the entire time, allowing the Professor and Ororo to talk. It seemed like forever since she'd seen the world; everything seemed crisp and new, the colors more vibrant. Jean's jaw dropped as they approached the Institute - it was a mansion. She'd had no idea what to expect, but she certainly hadn't been prepared for anything quite this grand.

"Welcome to your new home, Jean," Charles said to her, amused by the stunned expression on her face.

Ororo helped get Jean settled in, then left the girl alone to take a nap. Professor Xavier had called a meeting to brief the remaining "faculty" on Jean's situation.

"She's scared," Ororo said softly.

"I think that would only be natural," Henry McCoy, the Institute's physician and resident mad scientist, observed. "This must be a tremendously traumatic experience for the poor girl."

Logan sat sprawled in one of the chairs in Xavier's study, taking in everything being said. "Why's she here, Charles?" he finally asked. "She's just a kid. Whaddya really think you'll to be able to do fer her?"

"Jean has the potential to become a very powerful telepath," Xavier explained, as he had when he'd first told them of his plans. "She could one day become even more powerful than me. She needs to be taught to control her abilities, to use them carefully. As you all know, there is a great deal of responsibility that comes with being a mutant. When our existence is revealed, we will be met with fear by the general population. There will be some mutants who will hope to capitalize on that fear, to start a war between humans and mutants, in an effort to created a world where mutants are superior. I see Jean, and every other student who finds a place here, as simply the means to a harmonious existence between humans and mutants."

"That's a lotta responsibility to be layin' on a kid," Logan grumbled.

Xavier nodded solemnly. "Yes, it is. Which is why we are here - to help her, support her. To train her, to prepare her for the future."

After the meeting, Logan wandered the Institute, hands in his pockets, mulling over what the Professor had told him. A flash of red caught his attention at the end of the upstairs corridor.

So that's the kid, Logan thought to himself, watching as she tentatively made her way down the hall towards the staircase. He took a deep breath, steeling himself, and headed towards her.

"Hey," he said when he was closer.

Startled, she spun around to face him. He took in her pale face and huge, frightened green eyes as she plastered herself back against the wall.

"Relax, kid, I'm not gonna hurt ya," he told her, raising his hands to show he meant no harm. He spoke to her in a low, calming voice, like one would use with a spooked horse. "I'm Logan, I'm one of the...instructors here." She relaxed somewhat at that. "You must be Jean." She nodded, and Logan smirked. "What's the matter, kid? Doncha talk?" He chuckled as her eyes narrowed slightly in what he assumed was annoyance. He figured she might not be so bad after all. "Come on, Red, let's go downstairs. You can meet Hank - he's the other instructor."

"'Red'?"she asked, eyebrow raised.

He grinned. "Ya do talk," he said in mock amazement. He watched as she fought back a smile. "And yeah, 'Red'. It's as good a nick name as any fer ya." Jean rolled her eyes, and Logan laughed.

"Do you have a nickname?" she prodded shyly.

"Not really. Sometimes people call me Wolverine," he told her with a shrug. Jean giggled and grinned, and the paternal instincts that swelled in him both surprised and annoyed him. She was a cute kid, and Logan decided right then and there that he wanted to hear her giggle and see her face scrunch up with laughter as often as possible.

"Ya think that's funny?" he asked, eyebrow arched as he gazed down at her. She covered her mouth with her hand to hide the smile, and shook her head in denial. "Yer all right, kid. I think we'll get along fine," he told her, reaching out to ruffle her bright hair.

That night Ororo tucked Jean into bed. Jean had come out of herself a bit during the day, even laughing a couple of times, but was still primarily reserved and shy. Now Jean was lying in her new bed, in her new room, clutching an old battered teddy bear to her chest. Ororo sat on the edge of the girl's bed, and smoothed out the wrinkles in the blanket.

"I know how strange this all must be to you," Ororo said gently. "I know you must be confused and a bit frightened – this is a lot of change to absorb in just a day."

Jean nodded and turned her head to the side, staring at the base of the lamp on her bedside table.

"I want you to know that if you need to talk, about anything, I'm here for you," Ororo continued, reaching out and taking hold of one of Jean's small hands. She nodded again, and swallowed loudly; Ororo noticed that her eyes were bright with unshed tears. "Oh, Jean," she whispered sadly, reaching out and brushing a gentle finger along the child's cheek. "What's wrong?"

"They didn't call," she said. "They said they'd call, and they didn't."

"Who, your parents?"

Jean nodded. A single tear escaped and ran down the side of Jean's nose; her hand came up and angrily brushed it away. But another tear fell, and another, and Jean couldn't stop them. "They don't want me anymore," Jean choked out in a broken whisper.

"Oh, child, that's not true," Ororo told her, gathering the fragile girl into her arms. It was like a dam had burst; Jean's body was wracked by heart-wrenching sobs. Holding her tightly, Ororo murmured soothing words, stroking her hair and rocking gently. "Your parents love you, Jean. You must believe that. They know that the Professor can help you in ways they simply cannot. They love you enough to let you go, to let you come here." Though deep down, Ororo wondered. She'd seen the relief on Elaine Grey's face when Charles had made his proposal to them; was it relief that Jean would be helped, or relief at not having to deal with her mutant daughter?

Jean cried and cried, until finally she had no more tears to shed. Comforted by Ororo's embrace, by the gentle hand rubbing her back, she closed her eyes and fell asleep.

~~

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