Chapter 14

"No…no…No!" Logan screamed. Why was she doing this? No! Oh, Jesus Christ…Jean! Don't do this! His mind begged her. He unbuckled his harness and ran to the exit, his mind racing. He had to stop her. Jean! She wouldn't listen to him. She thought she was being noble. It was just like her to put everyone else's needs before her own. She was so goddamned determined to save the fucking world, she didn't give a second thought to him and their future so bent she was with purpose. He tried to open the hatch. The veins bulged in his head and neck as he strained with the door; he had to get to her, but it wouldn't budge. Cold sweat speckled his forehead and dripped down his nose from exertion as he tried again. Damn it! This could not be happening to him! He couldn't lose her. Not now. Not when they had just found each other.

Not again. Not again? How did he know that? He didn't know how he knew; but instinctively he knew it was true. It had happened before, long before. The tattered memories started flashing before his eyes…an innocent smile, lilting laughter, freckles that sprinkled across the bridge of a nose and cheeks like sweet brown sugar, long wheat colored hair so shiny you could almost see yourself in it, and full rosy lips that curled up into a teasing smile…lips that suddenly lost their warmth as the blood drained from them: Rose. Rose! He hadn't been able to help her either, he suddenly remembered. Funny how the subconscious mind chose inopportune times to dredge up random tidbits of his past. He felt like someone had just given him the one-two punch. It was a low blow. Goddamn it! He wouldn't let it happen again!

His mind was racing with possibilities, adding and discounting them just as quickly as they came to him. It was too late for many of the options. Damn it! Had he known she was even thinking of something so dangerous he would have stopped her somehow- but he hadn't known. None of them had, until it was too late. He balled his fist in frustration slamming it into the wall with all his strength. The pain didn't faze him.

Time seemed to stand still in that moment, motionless and stagnant as a lily pond without the benefit of a summer breeze. Logan felt like the lone mosquito on that pond; with no one to take a bite out of, he was impotent with fury.

"There's nothing we can do! She won't let us!" Scott hollered with frustration.

"No!" Logan yelled in denial, grabbing Scott by the arms and shaking him hard. "It's not going to end like this!" His nostrils flared as his insides twisted into knots. He felt it, the empty, hollowed-out sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach. He couldn't feel her anymore…Jean was gone. He'd lost her.

He shook his head in denial. It was not going to end like this. He would not let it end like this. This wasn't over, not yet. He whirled around and bellowed at Nightcrawler, "You! Get her, now!"

"I told you before, she won't let me…" Kurt said remorsefully, his arms wide.

"She can't stop you now!" Logan argued with him, the exasperation heavy in his voice.

Dawning registered on his intricately tattooed face. In a twirling flash of smoke Kurt was gone, instantly reappearing with an unconscious Jean held tightly in his arms. They were soaking wet. Rivulets of water dripped down their faces, creating tiny rivers heading south to pool at their feet. Jean's head was bent backward as she lay limp, in his arms. Her thick hair plastered around her face, clinging to her like seaweed; her lips parted innocently, as if in sleep, making her look very young and vulnerable: angelic.

No. No angels. She can't be dead. Logan thought. She just can't be.

Logan quickly gathered Jean in his arms. He looked down, studying her face, looking for signs of life. "No!" He cried. "No!" She wasn't breathing. He hurriedly placed her on the deck. One quick look at her pale face and the tightening leather constricting her body and his decision was made, snikt, the blade unsheathed and he sliced her uniform from neck to abdomen, and immediately started chest compressions. "I will not give up on you Jean. Do you hear me? Do you?" he yelled at her. "Goddamn it Jean…don't you give up." He willed her to live as he got to work: alternately placing his lips on hers, breathing precious air into her oxygen depleted lungs and applying timed chest compressions in an effort to resuscitate her.

Jesus, baby…don't leave me. He thought as he continued working on her. He wouldn't let her die, damn it.

His life had changed immeasurably in such a short period of time, he thought as he continued counting – he looked down at her - one one-thousand, her face looked waxen, two-one-thousand, she was so cold, three-one-thousand, her lips were blue, four-one-thousand, her body lifeless, five-one-thousand, he pressed his mouth to hers and breathed for her once, then twice. His love, his life. Again. He would not give up.

Automatically he continued the chest compressions, sweating in his heavy leather while his damp hair dripped salty tears into his eyes, stinging them. His lips pressed tight against his teeth as he worked over her, breathing heavily, yet never faltering in his task. No signs of life yet. Dear God. He continued.

In less than 24 hours his life had turned upside down. He looked down at Jean's chest, his large hands one on top of the other, pressed against her sternum, jerking up and down in a savage rhythm as he tried to save her. Was it truly only 12 hours ago he was lying in bed with her suckling those soft white globes? Now he was giving her chest compressions, trying to force life back into her. No signs of life yet. He continued.

"C'mon, Jean." He pleaded with her as he leaned over her yet again, taking a deep breath, pressing his lips to hers; breathing for her, once, twice. Her lips were so cold. No signs of life. Please, baby. He continued.

"She's gone." Scott cried, already succumbing to his grief. He acted like she was already dead. How could he say that? Logan thought angrily to himself as he kept on with the CPR, his muscles straining against his uniform. How could he give up so easily? She wasn't gone, not yet. Not if he could help it. He checked her pulse. No signs of life. He continued.

How long he knelt over her, rhythmically working her chest, he didn't know. He didn't care as long as she came back to him, but time was running out. That much he knew. He renewed his efforts.

"One-one-thousand," he counted aloud as anger poured through him, "Two-one-thousand," he continued as tears clouded his eyes, "Three-one-thousand," he said forcefully as he started to shake, "Four-one-thousand," his heart broke as he looked into Jean's lifeless face.

"Logan," the Professor said quietly. "It's over."

Deep from within the denial started low until it roared, "Noooooooooo!" He couldn't go through it again. He wouldn't do it. He would not be left behind…not again. "Jean…!" he screamed as he balled his fists into his chest. The blades sprang forth, snikt as they rammed deep within him. Jean… wait.