A/N - You have permission to holler at me if I take more than a week to get the next part up. Really. Take this offer to heart, since it's probably the only time an author will ever tell you this.
Posted: Sunday, April 15, 2007
I do not own the characters or anything else you recognize in this fic. X-Men: Evolution belongs to Marvel, WB and some other people that are not me.
Nightmares
Part Seven: The Wolverine
That Logan had gone straight to the Danger Room didn't surprise Jean. The Wolverine was forever linked to the Danger Room in her mind. In part because he spent so much time there. In part because in the early days, especially, he was the one who led the exercises, pushed them all to their limits and then demanded some more. But mostly because the first time she met him corresponded with the first day she had practiced with the X-Team in the Danger Room.
It was one of the proudest days of her life.
Of course, they hadn't called it the Danger Room at the time. Professor Xavier proudly described it as a state-of-the-art training room, but that didn't trip off the tongue nearly so nicely as the "Danger Room" did. Jean and Scott eventually took to calling it that, mostly as a joke, because it was all too apt a description, but also because it needed a name that was easier to say.
But that, too, came later.
The day in question had started typically. Summer had finally arrived and the school year had ended, so Scott was on vacation. Jean, however, did not have the same luxury. Since Professor Xavier hoped she would be able to return to school with Scott in the fall, she was still receiving catch-up school lessons in addition to her shielding ones. The professor had also started to teach her rudimentary telekinesis, but that require more concentration than Jean normally had.
Still, he persisted, always insisting that control was within her reach, despite the fact that Jean often felt it was never going to happen. Other mutants may be able to control their powers, but Jean Grey was useless at that. If the professor asked her to lift a feather, she'd strip it bare. If he asked her to float a glass of water, she'd not only spill it, but she'd manage to spray the water all over the room, herself and the professor, and any paper documents he'd been foolish enough to leave sitting around.
That day was turning out to be such a day. Everything that could go wrong had gone wrong. Professor Xavier still managed to sit there patiently through everything, never faltering even when Jean soaked him—twice, the second time with water that hadn't even started out in the room.
"One more time, Jean," he said. "Let's try it one more time."
Jean did, because sometimes it was easier to try to control her telekinesis than it was to argue with Professor Xavier. Concentrating with all her might, which usually involved her holding her head at her temples and trying to push, she attempted to lift the pillow off the desk using just her mind. It didn't immediately go hurtling to the ceiling or crash down on the desk with more force than a pillow ought to have, so already it was an improvement over her last attempts. Strangely enough, it seemed to take more power to lift it only a few inches off the desk than it did to hurl it across the room.
"Very good, Jean." The professor's voice didn't cut in and wreck her concentration, but instead droned pleasantly in the background. "I want you to hold the pillow there for a little longer. The hard part has already passed. You already have it floating. It isn't any more difficult to keep stationary in the air than it is to keep it stationary on the ground."
She had been straining to keep it afloat, but at his words she realized that he was right. It didn't hurt to keep it up there. Sweat had been running down her head, but it stopped now.
"Good," the professor said. "You're doing very well, Jean. Now I want you to try something else.
"You're holding onto the pillow firmly. I want you to spin it. Just turn it slightly."
It took Jean a minute to figure out how to do it. Turn? She had only ever lifted—or flung.
"Just imagine the pillow is balancing on a narrow column," Professor Xavier instructed, recognizing the cause of her hesitation. "Turn the corner to make it spin around."
Jean tried. It was a different, but she thought she was getting the hang of it. She pictured the pillow, perched on a pivot, turning like a top.
"Not so fast. Try to slow it down." His voice was a little more urgent, a little less soothing.
Something was wrong.
Jean's eyes flew open (she hadn't even realized they were closed) just in time to see the pillow—spinning so fast that it was a roundish blur instead of a square cushion—hurl towards Professor Xavier and smack him in the face.
"Oh, I'm so sorry," Jean gasped, her hands flying to her face and covering her mouth in horror.
"That's all right," Professor Xavier said, removing the pillow with as much dignity as possible. "Nothing's broken; I'm not injured. There's a reason we are practicing with pillows, after all."
"I'm sorry," Jean apologized again. "I really didn't mean to."
"I know you didn't. But perhaps we should call it a day. Go outside, it's sunny out. You should be out enjoying it. I believe you'll find Scott at the basketball court."
Jean needed no further encouragement. She scurried away, barely pausing to throw her shoes on. It wasn't just the chance to go outside; she half-feared that if given a chance to reconsider, the professor would realize she needed to practice some more.
Scott was where Professor Xavier had said he'd be: on the basketball court. He was shooting baskets, but when he saw Jean approach, he passed the ball to her. She reflexively brought up her hands and, to her surprise, caught it.
"D'you play?" he asked.
"Not really," Jean admitting, taking a shot at the basket anyway. She missed, but not by so much that Jean felt incredibly stupid in front of Scott. While he went to retrieve the ball, she said, "I'm better at soccer."
"Really?" Scott asked, coming back over to her. He had the basketball, but was holding it under his arm. Jean was pleasantly surprised that he seemed to be taking a genuine interest in her words. But then, Scott tended not to make small talk, and didn't start a conversation just to avoid silence. "There's a nice-sized field in the back. I'm sure we could ask Professor Xavier or Ororo to get a soccer ball next time they're in town."
"Do you play?" Jean asked, exciting over the potential common interest.
Scott shook his head, disappointing her. "No. Soccer's not really my thing. But there's a team at Bayside High. They're pretty good. You should try out when school starts."
"What's it like?"
Jean was beginning to get the hang of reading Scott's body language, even behind the sunglasses. Still, confusion wasn't a difficult emotion to identify, especially when, after scrunching the corners of his mouth, he asked, "The soccer team?"
"No, the school, I mean. Bayside High. What's it like?"
Scott shrugged and took another shot. "I don't know. A school."
The shrugs were also something Jean was coming to recognize. Again, they weren't hard. They usually preceded Scott returning to the semi-taciturn state that was his default setting. Still, Jean persisted, determined to get some information out of him.
"But what are the people like? Do you like it? Do they care that you're, you know, a mutant?" She went after the basketball this time, partially because it was her turn to take a shot and partially to prevent Scott from using the activity as an excuse not to talk.
"They don't know," Scott said.
It shouldn't have been a surprise. When she thought about it, it didn't surprise her. Of the few people who knew about mutants, most of them were either mutants themselves or else were relatives or close friends of one.
"But your glasses," said Jean.
"I tell them I have an eye condition. Most people don't really care, especially if they think you're going to go into some long, boring description with lots of medical and scientific terms. If I tell them I've an eye condition, then they don't bother me about it anymore."
"So the other students are nice then," Jean said, going back to her original concern.
"They're okay. I guess." He turned his head towards the front of the property, his lips pressed together in thought. She doubted it was about school and whether the students there were nice or not. His next words proved her right.
"Do you hear that?"
"Hear what?" Jean asked, straining her ears to try to figure out what Scott was talking about.
"That noise," said Scott.
Jean heard it now. At first it was just noise, but it was steadily growing louder. It sounded like an engine of some sort.
"I think it's a motorcycle," said Scott.
"A motorcycle?"
"Logan!"
That didn't mean anything to Jean, but she didn't have time to ask because Scott took off towards the garage.
Since Scott had a head start, by the time Jean caught up with him he was in the garage, already greeting the new arrival. Jean came inside as the short, rough-looking man was taking off his helmet and asking, "Is Chuck around?"
"I think he's in his study," Scott said, looking to Jean for confirmation.
She nodded, but didn't say anything, hanging back from this wild man who drove a motorcycle and called the professor "Chuck". He was sizing her up, too, now that Scott had drawn his attention to her, but Jean didn't know what he could be thinking about her. She suppressed the urge to take a step back, confronted with his overpowering stare.
Scott noticed and remembered his manners. "Logan, this is Jean Grey. She's the new student here. Jean, this is Logan, the Wolverine."
Jean offered a small, uncertain smile as a greeting, which seemed to satisfy Logan, because he broke off the impromptu starting contest. He didn't smile, but neither did he look quite so gruff.
"I'm going to go talk to him," Logan said, hanging his helmet from his motorcycle handles. "Nice to meet ya, Red."
"Red?" Jean asked, once he'd gone inside, not sure whether she should feel indignant to be given such a nickname.
"Don't mind him," Scott said, as if he were the telepath instead of her. For a brief second, she worried that she was projecting again, but then realized that she wasn't the only one getting to know her classmate. "Logan gives everyone nicknames."
"Really? What does he call you?"
"Cyke. Short for Cyclops." Because she still looked blank, he was forced to explain further. "You know, my codename. Like Wolverine or Storm."
He started to follow Logan into the house and since Jean didn't want to be alone in the garage, she started to follow Scott. "I've never asked what my codename was," Jean said.
"I don't think you have one yet," Scott said, as they made their way through the laundry room, towards the study.
"Then how do I get one?" Jean asked. "What could I call myself?"
"Think of something that relates to your powers. Like Ororo's called Storm because she has control over the weather and can call up storms. Or I'm Cyclops because my power's in my eyes and when I wear my visor, it's like I only have one eye."
"Ah, Jean, there you are," the professor said, saving her from having to think of a codename then and there. The Wolverine stood beside him, arms crossed over his chest, eying Jean critically once again. "I was just telling Logan here that I believe you're ready to join him and the others tomorrow morning in their training session."
Jean forgot to be unnerved by Logan. Her jaw almost dropped and all she could say was, "Really? You really mean it?"
"Yes, I really mean it," the professor said, smiling at her fondly.
"You think I can actually do it?" she asked, not quite convinced.
"I know you can. Your control has improved admirably since first coming here."
"But I still listen in on people accidentally all the time. Or project when I don't want to. And half the time I try to move something, I can't. Or if I do, I send it flying across the room," Jean protested. Or, she sent it flying right at Professor Xavier. It had only been a few minutes since they finished their last lesson, so there was no way he could have forgotten that already.
"You don't give yourself nearly enough credit," Professor Xavier said quickly, before she could think of more faults. "You are much better than you believe yourself to be."
Jean tried not to look too pleased with the praise. She didn't necessarily agree with him, but it was still nice to hear him say it.
"I believe you are ready for this, Jean. I wouldn't suggest it otherwise."
"You really think I'm ready?" Jean asked plaintively.
"I do," Professor Xavier said in a voice that managed to squelch all further doubts. She wondered for a second if he was doing something to calm her fears, but realized, with a strange new confidence, that she would be able to tell if he were. The fact that he thought her capable of harnessing her powers well enough to train alongside Scott, Ororo and Logan, that made her wonder if he was not, perhaps, right. Maybe she could do it.
"Okay," she said, trying to keep the uncertainty that was threatening to overwhelm her from leaking into her voice. "I'll do it, then."
So it was decided that the next day she would join Scott and Ororo in training.
End Part Seven
