Disclaimer: The X-Men aren't mine. Should I spell that out for you? Who would believe me if I said they were anyway? No one. That's right.
A/N: This was going to be a short little Logan/Jean, but ended up being a lot longer than expected. Anyway, it's an AU set in WW2 where Jean is a nurse in a war time military hospital, and Logan is a wounded soldier she falls for. There's some Rogue/Bobby too. Some angsty-ness in later chapters. This is a fic that I started a while ago, but hadn't posted it because it wasn't finished. Now it is, so I'll post more chapters if I get reviews.
---------------
The Nightengale: Chapter 1
---------------
Jean carried the dog tags carefully, as if she was holding something of great importance. For all she knew, they were important to that whom they belonged to. She walked down the hallway, out the front doors and towards the benches where many of the patients spent their afternoons.
Jean was a nurse, a nurse in a time of war. She had been called in to the small hospital when a load of army troops were brought in after a bloody battle. This hospital was specifically for the armies and other military branches in this war time. Although Jean hated seeing the wounded men come in after missions, day after day, she felt the need to help them. Many people told her she had a gift helping people, sometimes she considered it a curse.
Jean walked over to the soldier, the one whom the dog tags belonged to. His name was Logan, he had been brought to the hospital the other day and Jean had been assigned to look after him. She glanced at the dog tags in her hand. They didn't have his name on them, but instead the name 'Wolverine' was scripted across the metal. Jean figured it must be his nickname on the battlefield or something. Alot of the soldiers had names like that. Many of them Jean herself had treated. The names of those men ran through her mind. Boomer, Hawk, Bull, Trigger, Ox. They were a few.
When she reached Logan, sitting alone beside a bench in his wheelchair, she lightly tapped him on the shoulder to get his attention.
Logan looked up at her, his steel blue eyes staring right through her almost. His face was scarred from battle wounds. There was one across his left eye which wasn't fully healed, a patch covering it up.
Jean smiled and took Logan's hand from the arm of the wheelchair. She held it gently, palm up, and placed the dog tags inside, closing his fist afterwards. Jean reached for Logan's stubbly chin so that he was looking at her face. "I thought you might like these back." She spoke slowly and clearly, emphasizing each word.
Logan looked at the tags in his hand, then pointed to his ears. Logan was deaf. It had been an injury from the battle, grenades shooting off too close to his head. Some shrapnel caught near his face and his ear drums were pretty much blown. It was nearly a miracle he survived.
Jean sighed, taking his chin in her hands again and speaking clearly. "Logan, I know you can read lips pretty good. And I know you can talk."
Logan grunted. He took the dog tags and put them around his neck carefully. "Thanks." His voice was usually clear and his words pronounced pretty good. It was a difficult task without being able to hear what you sounded like. Most of the time he spoke either too loudly or too softly. Right now was pretty good though.
Jean made sure Logan was looking at her before she responded. "You're welcome." She smiled. "Time to eat, let's go to the cafeteria."
Logan merely nodded, then Jean got behind him and started pushing the wheelchair back toward the hospital. The only problem with having Jean behind him, was that Logan couldn't tell if she was saying anything. Jean had only been taking care of him since the other night, and then he was just falling asleep so they didn't really interact. Sometimes she forgot about Logan's hearing and talked when he wasn't able to see her.
Jean started up the wheelchair ramp and into the building. She was thinking about Logan, and what he had been through in the war. Being assigned to take care of him recently, she didn't really get much of a chance to get to know him. As she was told, most nurses didn't. Logan already had four different nurses assigned to him and he'd only been at the hospital a few days. He wasn't exactly a model patient. The nurses mainly found him rude and uncontrolable. They usually said that he lacked communication skills and the want to learn. The head nurse knew the truth though, and Jean had been forewarned that Logan could indeed communicate.
---------------
As they were entering the cafeteria, Jean looked around for a place where they could sit. She suddenly heard a grunt from Logan and when she looked down at him his head was moving in a jerky motion and he looked in pain.
Jean immediately came to the front of his chair. "Logan?! What's wrong?" He was twitching in pain and his eye was clamped shut so he wasn't able to see Jean's face. She gently held his head in her hands and almost forced his good eye open. Once he was looking at her she repeated her question.
Logan's eye snapped shut again and he grabbed at his ears with his hands. Once in a while the memories of his battle flashed through his mind, he remembered his men dying, explosions all around him, and the pain from his wounds returned. Usually the pain in his ears were the strongest. This was one of those times. "Argh..m-my...ears!" Logan's voice came out in a low tone that wasn't very audible.
Jean listened to him intently, understanding the pain he was in and the inability for him to talk. She knew he didn't know what she was saying with his eye shut like it was, but she spoke anyway. Jean first cursed herself for not carrying any pain medication with her. "Alright Logan, take it easy, it will pass...just take it easy." She gently rubbed on his back, praying that his suffering would be over with soon.
When the pain finally subsided, Logan sat straight in his chair, blinking rapidly a few times. He looked around, thankful that there were too many people in the cafeteria to notice his display. He took in a deep breath and leaned against the back of the wheelchair.
Jean wanted to say something to Logan, ask him about what had happened. Instead, she just wheeled his chair over to a table in the corner of the cafeteria. She then left to go get them both something to eat.
Logan looked back as Jean grabbed two trays and got into the food line. 'God she's beautiful' He thought to himself. 'How'd a sorry bastard like me end up gettin' a nice gal like her for a nurse?' Logan turned away from Jean as she glanced toward him from the line.
Jean gave a soft smile noticing Logan staring at her. She knew she wasn't supposed to get too emotionally involved with the patients. After all, many of the soldiers healed up and went back into battle. Some even got to go home, and alot of them died. It was a terrible thing, the war, but Jean felt a need to help those men anyway.
She wasn't exactly falling for Logan. As of what she knew from him so far, he wasn't very pleasant, and he didn't seem to really like her much anyway. Jean could understand that though, after all he'd been through. She felt a sort of sympathy for him, so much loss, so much pain. But Jean told herself not to get too involved. She was supposed to get him better if possible, and send him on his way. No emotional attachments.
A/N: This was going to be a short little Logan/Jean, but ended up being a lot longer than expected. Anyway, it's an AU set in WW2 where Jean is a nurse in a war time military hospital, and Logan is a wounded soldier she falls for. There's some Rogue/Bobby too. Some angsty-ness in later chapters. This is a fic that I started a while ago, but hadn't posted it because it wasn't finished. Now it is, so I'll post more chapters if I get reviews.
---------------
The Nightengale: Chapter 1
---------------
Jean carried the dog tags carefully, as if she was holding something of great importance. For all she knew, they were important to that whom they belonged to. She walked down the hallway, out the front doors and towards the benches where many of the patients spent their afternoons.
Jean was a nurse, a nurse in a time of war. She had been called in to the small hospital when a load of army troops were brought in after a bloody battle. This hospital was specifically for the armies and other military branches in this war time. Although Jean hated seeing the wounded men come in after missions, day after day, she felt the need to help them. Many people told her she had a gift helping people, sometimes she considered it a curse.
Jean walked over to the soldier, the one whom the dog tags belonged to. His name was Logan, he had been brought to the hospital the other day and Jean had been assigned to look after him. She glanced at the dog tags in her hand. They didn't have his name on them, but instead the name 'Wolverine' was scripted across the metal. Jean figured it must be his nickname on the battlefield or something. Alot of the soldiers had names like that. Many of them Jean herself had treated. The names of those men ran through her mind. Boomer, Hawk, Bull, Trigger, Ox. They were a few.
When she reached Logan, sitting alone beside a bench in his wheelchair, she lightly tapped him on the shoulder to get his attention.
Logan looked up at her, his steel blue eyes staring right through her almost. His face was scarred from battle wounds. There was one across his left eye which wasn't fully healed, a patch covering it up.
Jean smiled and took Logan's hand from the arm of the wheelchair. She held it gently, palm up, and placed the dog tags inside, closing his fist afterwards. Jean reached for Logan's stubbly chin so that he was looking at her face. "I thought you might like these back." She spoke slowly and clearly, emphasizing each word.
Logan looked at the tags in his hand, then pointed to his ears. Logan was deaf. It had been an injury from the battle, grenades shooting off too close to his head. Some shrapnel caught near his face and his ear drums were pretty much blown. It was nearly a miracle he survived.
Jean sighed, taking his chin in her hands again and speaking clearly. "Logan, I know you can read lips pretty good. And I know you can talk."
Logan grunted. He took the dog tags and put them around his neck carefully. "Thanks." His voice was usually clear and his words pronounced pretty good. It was a difficult task without being able to hear what you sounded like. Most of the time he spoke either too loudly or too softly. Right now was pretty good though.
Jean made sure Logan was looking at her before she responded. "You're welcome." She smiled. "Time to eat, let's go to the cafeteria."
Logan merely nodded, then Jean got behind him and started pushing the wheelchair back toward the hospital. The only problem with having Jean behind him, was that Logan couldn't tell if she was saying anything. Jean had only been taking care of him since the other night, and then he was just falling asleep so they didn't really interact. Sometimes she forgot about Logan's hearing and talked when he wasn't able to see her.
Jean started up the wheelchair ramp and into the building. She was thinking about Logan, and what he had been through in the war. Being assigned to take care of him recently, she didn't really get much of a chance to get to know him. As she was told, most nurses didn't. Logan already had four different nurses assigned to him and he'd only been at the hospital a few days. He wasn't exactly a model patient. The nurses mainly found him rude and uncontrolable. They usually said that he lacked communication skills and the want to learn. The head nurse knew the truth though, and Jean had been forewarned that Logan could indeed communicate.
---------------
As they were entering the cafeteria, Jean looked around for a place where they could sit. She suddenly heard a grunt from Logan and when she looked down at him his head was moving in a jerky motion and he looked in pain.
Jean immediately came to the front of his chair. "Logan?! What's wrong?" He was twitching in pain and his eye was clamped shut so he wasn't able to see Jean's face. She gently held his head in her hands and almost forced his good eye open. Once he was looking at her she repeated her question.
Logan's eye snapped shut again and he grabbed at his ears with his hands. Once in a while the memories of his battle flashed through his mind, he remembered his men dying, explosions all around him, and the pain from his wounds returned. Usually the pain in his ears were the strongest. This was one of those times. "Argh..m-my...ears!" Logan's voice came out in a low tone that wasn't very audible.
Jean listened to him intently, understanding the pain he was in and the inability for him to talk. She knew he didn't know what she was saying with his eye shut like it was, but she spoke anyway. Jean first cursed herself for not carrying any pain medication with her. "Alright Logan, take it easy, it will pass...just take it easy." She gently rubbed on his back, praying that his suffering would be over with soon.
When the pain finally subsided, Logan sat straight in his chair, blinking rapidly a few times. He looked around, thankful that there were too many people in the cafeteria to notice his display. He took in a deep breath and leaned against the back of the wheelchair.
Jean wanted to say something to Logan, ask him about what had happened. Instead, she just wheeled his chair over to a table in the corner of the cafeteria. She then left to go get them both something to eat.
Logan looked back as Jean grabbed two trays and got into the food line. 'God she's beautiful' He thought to himself. 'How'd a sorry bastard like me end up gettin' a nice gal like her for a nurse?' Logan turned away from Jean as she glanced toward him from the line.
Jean gave a soft smile noticing Logan staring at her. She knew she wasn't supposed to get too emotionally involved with the patients. After all, many of the soldiers healed up and went back into battle. Some even got to go home, and alot of them died. It was a terrible thing, the war, but Jean felt a need to help those men anyway.
She wasn't exactly falling for Logan. As of what she knew from him so far, he wasn't very pleasant, and he didn't seem to really like her much anyway. Jean could understand that though, after all he'd been through. She felt a sort of sympathy for him, so much loss, so much pain. But Jean told herself not to get too involved. She was supposed to get him better if possible, and send him on his way. No emotional attachments.
