My first ever attempt at ff; kindly let me know what you think! I have the plot line set up for this story, but am still crafting the chapters, so any suggestions for what you would like to see clarified can probably be accommodated. The real meat of this story should start to emerge around chapter four, but why not have some fun and foreshadowing until then, ja? J
Chapter One: Sunday by the Shore
Dragging a blue finger listlessly through the water, Kurt Wagner watched the morning light dance upon the rippling waves of the lake. It was early, much earlier than he was used to rising on a Sunday, but sleep had been hard to come by, and he had left the Mansion in desperation shortly after dawn. Retreating to the edge of the property, to the shore of the lake that usually soothed him, Kurt had lain on his stomach in the shade of a towering old oak tree, trying not to dwell on the previous evening's events. Trying, in particular, not to dwell on one specific event that was the cause of his current state of distress.
"Kurt?"
Kurt started at the unexpected sound of a voice behind him. He whipped around, anxiously searching for the source, and allowed a small, slightly embarrassed smile to escape having found her. "Jean," he breathed, putting a furry hand over his heart. "You scared me, mein friend. Vat are you doing up so early?"
Jean Grey stepped into the clearing, smiling at the irony of the question placed before her. "I could ask you the same question," she quipped, "I was out for my run, and nobody is ever awake before I get back. Well, Logan sometimes," she amended, "but never on the weekend." As she sat down beside him and teased her long hair out of its elastic hair band, Kurt shook his head in dry amusement. As much as the mansion's occupants, chiefly Rogue, teased Jean about her inclination toward perfectionism, he sometimes took it a step further and wondered if Jean Grey's mutant abilities had manifested themselves in a third form besides telepathy and telekinesis. Because only Jean could go running through a forest on a reasonably warm spring day, in white cotton shorts no less, and still appear before him perfectly immaculate, not a drop of perspiration or a stray hair to be seen. Amazing.
She smiled at him, tilting her head to the side in a slightly inquisitive manner. "And now," she teased, "I am going to ask you the same question. Because the mansion is about a mile behind us and it is 8 a.m. on a Sunday morning. Not that I'm not thrilled to see you before the mad pancake rush hour begins, but why are you out here so early?" Kurt shrugged his shoulders and gazed out across the lake, deliberately avoiding meeting Jean's eyes. "I couldn't sleep," he murmured. "Because of last night?" she asked him, lowering her voice to match the softness of his tone. He didn't answer, but the waves of guilt and shame emanating from the young teleporter, the ones that had distracted Jean from her morning ritual and drawn her to the clearing by the lake in the first place, increased substantially, taking her breath away momentarily and bringing tears to her eyes. "Kurt," she started softly, but he cut her off.
"Don't tell me that it vasn't my fault, Jean. It vas. I vas supposed to protect her, ja? I failed, and she is hurt, all because of me." Unbidden, the scene from the Danger Room played before his eyes, as it had been doing ever since its occurrence. The mission was fairly simple: rescue their teammates, who were being held captive by Magneto. If they failed to make the rescue within fifteen minutes, their time was up and the simulation was over. Cyclops was in charge of distracting Magneto, while Kitty was to locate the hostages. Kurt's job was to provide backup for them both, until the hostages were located, then he was to teleport them out while Kitty switched to backup for Cyclops. The mission had been going well enough, until the war zone they had been fighting in had exploded. In all the noise and haze, Kurt had lost sight of Kitty. He found her within seconds, but not in time to rescue her from a wooden spear that came flying out of nowhere. On feeling the barb pierce her shoulder, Kitty had instantly begun to phase, but not before the spear had sliced through uniform and skin, drawing enough blood that Logan had immediately stopped the simulation and rushed her to the infirmary. Though the others had followed the pair, Kurt had ported away, horrified at what he had done.
"Kurt, this wasn't anyone's fault," Jean said, breaking him away from his thoughts. "It was an accident. They happen. Nobody blames you for what happened, least of all Kitty. In fact," she continued, smoothing the sand from the shore out of his fur as she spoke, "she was wondering where a certain fuzzy blue elf was last night right before the sleeping pills Dr. McCoy gave her kicked in." Jean bit her lip before pressing on with her argument. She had expected some kind of reaction from Kurt to the pet name Kitty had playfully given him, but he stoically continued to avoid her gaze, his projected emotions as heavy as before. Stubbornly, Jean changed tactics.
"Kurt, imagine the situation were reversed. If Kitty was watching your back, and something slipped by her and got to you, you wouldn't be angry, would you?" Kurt slowly shook his head. "Kitty's going to be ok; just a couple of stitches and some bed rest and she'll be as good as new. She's not upset with you, just like you wouldn't be upset with her. It's no different."
"Ja, but it is different, because--"
Kurt cut himself off as sharply as he had begun. He loved Jean fiercely; he looked to her as an older sister and true friend, and he trusted her more than he trusted almost everyone else he knew. But he couldn't find the words to tell her his biggest secret, the one he had trouble admitting to even himself. She saved him the trouble.
"It's different because you love her," she said gently.
Kurt looked up sharply, meeting Jean's eyes for the first time since she had joined him by the lake shore, suspiciously searching for any sign that she had intruded into his mind. Finding nothing but compassion and sincerity, however, Kurt sighed with guilt and let his guard drop. Of course she hadn't, this was Jean, she would never enter uninvited into someone's thoughts. And he was terrible for even suspecting that she would.
"It's confusing," he admitted, absentmindedly tracing a circle in the dirt beneath him. "I zhink I know how I feel about her, but zen, I don't know if it is vhat I zhink it is, and zen I see her and I zhink maybe I vas wrong vhen I say I don't know, and…" He trailed off, exasperated. Jean tried not to laugh as she took his hand. "Kurt," she said kindly, "It's ok. You don't have to know exactly how you feel. Everyone gets confused about stuff like this. It's not just you." Kurt looked up, almost shyly. "Even you?" He asked, a hint of incredulity in his voice. "Even me," she assured him. "And don't worry, I wont say a word. Even though I think the two of you would be ridiculously cute together." A hint of a smile played at the corner of his lips, and Jean was relieved to sense that his bad feelings were quickly ebbing away. "Hey, it's almost time for breakfast," she pointed out, knowing instinctively that the mention of food would instantly make Kurt forget his troubles. "What do you say we head back to the mansion?" Kurt squeezed her fingers in thanks before grinning evilly. "Ze last one back, as you say, is a rotten egg," He laughed, and quickly scampered off, clearly back to his old self again.
Smiling as she watched Kurt happily leap from tree to tree, Jean reached past him with her telepathy to cast a mental net over the mansion. She felt the serene presence of Ororo in the kitchen, momentarily distracted from her task of mixing pancake batter by the gentle breeze blowing through the window, gently tousling the leaves of the plants sitting on the sill above the sink. Logan had gone down to the infirmary to check on Kitty, who Jean was pleased to discover was feeling vibrant as ever, her charismatic psyche clearly distinguishing herself from those of Logan and Dr McCoy on either side of her. All around the house, minds were slowly becoming louder as they reached a state of consciousness, mental flowers opening in the morning sun. Jean smiled. Being a telepath was best done from this distance: close enough to sense the minds of others, but far enough away that she wasn't caught up in the violent torrent of thoughts and emotions.
Suddenly Jean paused, feeling a buzzing in the back of her mind. She shook her head, letting the mental net disintegrate in favor of trying to decipher the whispers. Though they grew louder, they were no more discernible than when they had begun. Jean grew afraid, remembering the incident a few months back when her powers had begun to evolve, shattering her near perfect control of the forces inside of her. She had been working with Professor Xavier every day, trying to keep in command of her abilities so that the devastating damage she had caused, both physically and mentally, would never be repeated. Was this the first sign that her control was weakening, and that her powers were slipping from her grasp?
Jean closed her eyes, breathing deeply. Clenching her fists, she concentrated on closing her mind. "Stop. Stop it," she whispered through gritted teeth. Slowly, the voices subsided, leaving Jean alone. Cautiously, she relaxed her mental barriers to their previous state. Still nothing. Jean breathed a sigh of relief. The wind blowing off of the lake, though a mere 'gentle breeze' by the time it reached Ororo, whipped the young telepath's hair around as she slowly began the walk back to the mansion.