NOTE: Hold on to your seats, strap yourselves in, because we're about to do a 180 at 5Gs here. FIRST, I want to thank everyone who keeps reviewing. Thank you SO MUCH! Every single one gives me a little drop of happiness! I know I don't answer every one, because that would just get redundant, but I do absolutely appreciate them all. I now have a readership of 100+ per month (gracias), so lurkers, you know what, I love you too. It's all love, zero haterade. Anyhow, for the direction of this story- I was left with a quandary. Do I continue to follow along the current 616 storyline at the pace it's going, which I think in the L/J area is probably going to be spotty and plodding (because there's so much going on with all the other characters, and the crossovers right now are kind of insane and everyone is running around like ten different x-titles all at once), or do a fly-by-night AU that could still technically be taking place in the 616? It was a hard decision. REASONABLY, as in "I don't want to get fired from my job and abandon my family because I'm writing this blah blah" I should probably just should've waited for Marvel to slowly but inevitably fuck up the really good thing they've got goin' on right now. But of course, I didn't pick that. No, I picked the impulsive, difficult, fun thing which was to AU the holy hell out of this thing and get a really good story in. Look, there's a reason I'm such a Logan fan, I understand leading with your heart. So, Anyways. Enjoy.
NIGHT 9:
I got the phone call that would change my whole life around 8pm. It was an ordinary night. I hadn't been doing anything special. I was in jeans and a sweater, drinking peppermint tea, going over paperwork in my room under the light of a desk lamp. Logan was supposed to come over later. I could hear Scott laughing next door with Emma, and honestly, I didn't even mind. I'd picked up Scott's wedding ring and, unsure what to do with it, stuck it in a drawer under a couple pairs of socks. Oddly enough, I felt some comfort. Maybe I didn't have closure, but I was moving in the right direction.
As my ringtone went off, I checked my phone, but the call was coming from a restricted number. When I picked up, I didn't recognize the voice on the other line.
"Am I speaking to Mrs. Jean Grey-Summers?" A taut voice asked.
"Yes, this is she," I answered, although a part of me wanted to scream just Jean Grey, actually through the line. "Who is this?"
There was a pause, silence on the other line.
"I apologize for calling you at such a late hour. I am a representative from the team of legal services currently working with the Krakoan leadership at the national level. I was hired by the Quiet Council to attend to a certain matter you are involved in, and unfortunately there is a somewhat urgent issue that I need to discuss with you, sooner rather than later. Would you be able to meet with me tonight?'
"I'm sorry," I said, not understanding. "You're who? Legal services for who? And meet where?"
"I know this all sounds very sudden and confusing," said the dry, professional voice on the other end of the line, "But if you're able to come in tonight I promise I can give you a much more thorough explanation. Would you be willing to meet at the Krakoan Hatchery in about thirty minutes? Again, I apologize if I'm interrupting anything important, but I think you'll see when you get here that this is a pressing matter, very time sensitive."
"I'm uh, not sure, I-" I paused, conflicted about how to answer this. Was this a trap? I should tell someone where I am, I thought, just in case. And yet, for a trap, this was certainly odd bait. And what happened if I said no? Would this little "meeting" be moved? And if so, what kind of a trap was that, when I could just say no and refuse? I was trying to think fast and instead I just felt like I was spinning my wheels.
"If this is an inconvenient time for you, you may reschedule with me through Sage tomorrow. I just think that you would be interested in the matter that is at hand, as I said, it is time sensitive."
Reschedule through Sage? If this was a ruse, it was a very intricate one, and it was someone who had done their homework. Hesitating for a moment, I grabbed a post-it note and scribbled down on it, "Gone to hatchery to meet lawyer (?)," and stuck it on the outside of my door. I mean what was the worst that could happen to me, anyway? Death, then resurrection? Not to mention one of the perks of dating Logan was that he sure as hell was not going to let someone hold me against my will without leaving a trail of bodies in his wake. And I wasn't exactly defenseless myself. The woman on the phone said she was a lawyer; or rather, insinuated it. Maybe I was being sued? Sure, why not, I thought. Just throw a lawsuit on top of the rest of the mess that was my life, what did I care.
"I'll be there in thirty minutes," I responded, before hanging up the phone and sighing deeply.
Throwing my phone on the bedside table, I reluctantly changed into my costume. At least if I was being an idiot and walking into the heart of an ambush, I'd go down looking the part.
I got there early, with a few minutes to spare. With the portals in place, everything was basically walking distance, even when I wasn't physically on the island. As I strolled toward the dimly lit hatchery I saw a woman standing there. She was somewhat short, very thin, appeared to be in her late 40s or early 50s, wearing a sensible gray skirt and suit. Her hair was tied back in a severe-looking bun, and she was holding a black attache case. She had a pair of wire rimmed glasses perched on her nose. She certainly didn't look like she was about to attempt to kidnap me. Then again, you never knew.
"Jean Grey-Summers?" She questioned, squinting at me as I approached, the line between her brows deepening, and I recognized the voice on the other end of the phone.
"Just Jean, please," I replied, and held out my hand. She stared at it with unfamiliarity, gave me a short nod of acknowledgement, turned and said curtly, "Follow me, please."
Well they sure sent a charmer, didn't they, I thought to myself. I supposed if she was about to serve me with papers, there was no reason to be friendly. Shrugging it off, I followed her through the winding rows of trees. We walked through the maze like growth of roots and branches, peppered with glowing translucent bubbles of amber where the resurrections took place. Some were empty, some filled with humanoid forms in various stages of regrowth. In the relative darkness outside, they seemed to float eerily around me. The quiet was somewhat unnerving, and within me stirred a sensation of dread; probably because I'd equated the place with my own death. I followed the small, wiry woman as she headed towards a break in the roots, and then, pushing some brush aside I hadn't noticed, she revealed a door I'd never seen before.
I cocked my head to the side, staring. It was odd, I supposed, that I really hadn't ever noticed something as out-of-place as this before. The door looked like a man-made structure built into the Krakoan natural architecture. It was smooth, white, and when she pressed a white card against what I assumed was a badge reader on the side, it opened with a soft hiss. My first assumption was definitely correct. Someone had built this here, in the heart of the hatchery. I wasn't sure why, but for an instant my blood ran cold. I gave a little start as my phone chimed again and I liked down at it. It was a text from Logan. Saw your note Red, what's up?
I quickly looked up as the woman turned suddenly, clearing her throat.
"No phones past this point," she said quickly, giving me a disapproving look.
"Sorry," I replied sheepishly, feeling somewhat like I'd just received a whack across my knuckles from a nun at Catholic school. Without answering Logan, I quickly turned off my phone, and followed the lawyer through the doorway.
"I've never been to this part of the hatchery before," I mused, although truthfully it wasn't a place I tended to visit regularly.
"Ah yes," she replied, and I realized what a flat gray color her eyes were as they flickered towards me, then away. "Not many people have. This is a restricted area."
I waited for her to say more, but she didn't. I followed her inside in silence, the only sound the sharp click of her sensible heels on what looked like white tile.
Most of Krakoa looked like exactly what it was; an organic, living being. A blossoming, growing island full of life. But as the door shut behind us I found myself sealed in a very different environment. It reminded me of a hospital, and it was definitely constructed, not grown. The floors were tile, walls whitewashed, and there was florescent lighting above. We walked forward to another set of doors, which the woman in front of me badged us in for a second time. I realized in the suddenness of all of this, I hadn't even asked for her name. I also realized how foolish I was probably being right now, following a stranger into unknown territory.
The second set of double doors yawned open, and a wide straight aisle lay before me. On either side, I saw several rows of what looked like small, partially translucent cubes, each evenly spaced apart. I stared for a moment, blinked at the odd sight before me.
"What is this place?" I asked, wonder and apprehension in my voice.
"Ah," she repeated, turning on a heel and glancing at me. "Pardon me for not explaining myself. I needed someplace quiet to talk to you, and somewhere without surveillance. Welcome to the nursery."
"To the-what?" I said, and my breath caught on the last word as I stepped forward and peered into one of the cubes. Now that I was closer, I could see much more clearly, and when I saw what was inside I gasped. It was a baby. An infant, sleeping soundly, swaddled. He or she looked very young, maybe only a few days old. I quickly moved to the next one, and again; this time it was a slightly older baby with a puff of blonde hair at the top, eyes open, sucking on a pacifier. I stared at it. It stared right back at me. I couldn't believe my eyes. Maybe I'd never left my room and this was all a dream?
"We have a nursery?" I asked in wonder. "Why didn't I know about this? What... whose babies are these?"
"Well, that's not what we're here to talk about Mrs. Grey-Summers, but as long as we're here, I will tell you that these are Krakoa's children. These are unclaimed infants. They are being raised as wards of the island."
"Wards of the island, you mean, orphans?" I asked incredulously.
"You could say that," she replied curtly.
I turned my attention back to the incubators. I noticed at the base of each cube, there was a temperature display and a small label. I read the labels out loud as I walked by, "Foxtrot, Golf, Hotel, India...these are... these aren't baby names, they're letters of the phonetic alphabet. That's military, isn't it? I don't understand, who are the parents? Where are the parents? Why don't these children have names?" I asked, confused, and now with growing alarm and distrust.
"I'm afraid I'm not at liberty to discuss that the moment. Please take a seat."
She gestured to a small conference table at the end of the walkway. I pulled out a chair and sat, still glancing uneasily over at the rows of silent infants in their cubes. Something seemed very, very wrong here. The babies didn't look hurt, they didn't look sick, they were obviously being well cared for, but- why was this place a secret? And who had abandoned these children and why? The woman sat across from me, pulled out a sheaf of papers from her briefcase and set them down between us.
"It has come to the counsel's attention that there have arisen issues of marital strife between yourself and your husband, Scott Summers aka Cyclops."
My eyebrows shot up, eyes widened. I could hardly believe what she'd just said. Was THIS why I was here? Because I was fighting with my current, soon-to-be ex husband? I almost laughed out loud. With all the secret doors and room full of mystery babies in sci-fi cubes, I was expecting to get some shocking revelation, not just served with divorce papers, or whatever else this was.
"Well, yes," I said, letting out a nervous laugh. "I'm sorry, what does that have to do with anything?"
"It has do with... everything. I know I'm being vague. Let me explain, or at least explain the Council's point of view on this matter. You and your husband Scott- you are considered pillars of the mutant community. Here, within Krakoa, as well as your portrayal in the media outside our society. Even the human perception of both of you, as a couple you have great importance not just socially, but politically as well. The nation of Krakoa is still in its infancy. It is a very vulnerable time. There are people in the Council who are very interested in maintaining all the correct players in the correct places to ensure its survival. That's where I come in."
"Wait...what... did Scott hire you?" I asked, narrowing my eyes and looking at her suspiciously. "Am I being sued? Divorced?"
"The answer to all of those questions is no," she answered dryly. "Quite the opposite. The powers that be have interest invested in Marvel Girl and Cyclops, the married couple. That's what I've been trying to explain. Now please pay attention, as I have a contract here to discuss with you."
"A contract?" I said, perplexed. "What kind of contract?"
She pushed the papers towards me across the table, licked one finger and turned the page.
"There are several clauses built in here," she said. "First, the Council is aware of your current romantic relationship with James 'Logan' Howlett. Do you confirm or deny this?"
I felt my face turning several shades of red and I'm sure the annoyance was plainly visible on my face. "I don't know why my personal life is suddenly everyone's damn business, but yes, Logan and I are in a relationship. Scott is aware. In fact, he's in his own relationship with Emma. Look, I don't know why you care about Logan and I, or why anybody else does, but it's nobody's, and I mean nobody's personal concern except mine," I said with a little bit of acid seeping into my voice.
"Clause one of the contract," she continued, unphased, as if she hadn't even heard me. "You will immediately cease and desist all romantic or inappropriate contact with said James Howlett. Clause number two. You are not obligated to engage in any romantic or sexual contact with Scott Summers, but in public, you will appear as his wife. You will appear affectionate, you will appear supportive and you will play the role of loving partner, publicly. Third and final clause. You are not to discuss this with anyone outside of this room, especially Mr. Howlett. If you break any of these obligations, it will end in termination of the contract, and the protections wherein will become null and void. If you understand what I've told you, will you please sign here."
She pointed to a blank line on the paper as I stared at her with disgust and disbelief.
"Now, I'm sorry, excuse me, but what in the hell is this?" I demanded angrily, standing up from my chair and pushing it back so violently it almost fell over. "I don't know who put you up to this kind of bullshit but this is insane. This is my personal life. It is not anyone's business, I don't care how 'socially' or 'politically' relevant my marriage is, when I decide it's over it's over. Krakoa and the rest of the world can get the hell over it just like I did. That's final. You can take your contract and shove it, I'm finished here."
The woman continued to stare at me, emotionless throughout my outburst, peering over the wire-rimmed glasses with her flat gray eyes. She didn't have a hair out of place. She was so still I wouldn't have known she was alive, except for when she spoke.
"I suggest you sit down," she said calmly. "And I suggest you sign."
"No," I retorted. "This is absolutely ridiculous. I don't give a damn if the Quiet Council- which I am ON, by the the way-did this, or Scott did this, I don't give a damn. I'm not interested. This is a violation of my rights, and I'm leaving now," I said, fuming, turning back towards the double doors.
"Very well," the woman replied quietly, reaching into her briefcase. "Before you go, however, there may be something else you want to see."
She took out a manila envelope and placed it on the table between us.
I stopped just shy of the door. Part of me thought about just turning on my heel and leaving. Part of me wishes I had. But there was something about this whole setup that didn't sit with me right, some piece of the puzzle that was obviously missing, and in the end curiosity got the better of me. Carefully, I sat back down, avoiding the lawyer's gaze. I unwound the string binding the envelope and opened it.
Inside, there was a set of large, glossy 8x10 photos. I shuffled through them, looking them over
They were photos of me. Specifically, they were photos of my autopsy.
I felt my stomach turn and I swallowed hard, again.
"What is this. Where the hell did you get these?" I whispered.
Her voice came out in the same flat monotone. "The autopsy is standard medical procedure after death. They are performed on every mutant prior to the resurrection process being initiated. Please, take your time."
Eyes wide, breath catching in my chest, I looked at the photos she'd handed me one by one. There lay my own body, mangled, splayed open. My lungs, my spine, visible through a gaping y-shaped incision. I shuffled the photos, looking through each one, equally horrified and fascinated. Each organ had been photographed, measured, weighed and categorized in a cold and clinical manner. And then I came to something different, and my breath caught in my throat.
"What is this?" I demanded, pointing to a photograph. I couldn't tell exactly what was in the photograph, everything looked like a bloody meat locker. But there was a photo that had clearly been magnified in order to better identify an object. It was something small and almost translucent, that caught my eye; foreign, and yet hauntingly familiar.
She looked up at me, with an unreadable expression of calm. "It's an embryo," she replied. "Very, very early. Definitely less than six weeks, so the report said."
I felt the world swimming around me. I thought I was going to faint for a minute. I put my hands to my mouth.
"Oh my god," I said quietly. "It was mine? This was in me?"
"Yes," she replied.
I was willing tears away from my eyes, trying not to cry in front of this emotionless stranger, this hostile woman who had led me to this strange place only to show me...
"I was pregnant?" I whispered. "I was pregnant when...oh my god. Oh no. I didn't know. I didn't have any idea."
"You wouldn't have," she replied. "Far too early. It was only found due to autopsy protocol. According to the autopsy report, the area near the implantation was severely lacerated but the embryo itself was missed, and still viable."
"Viable?" I asked, wide eyes turning to meet her gaze, mouth slack.
"Mrs. Grey-Summers, I'm not aware of how much you know about the resurrection process, but it works to bring back any intact genetic material. Most of those who pass through the hatchery are grown adults. However, occasionally, this has been known to happen. We do rescue the embryos if they test positive for the x-gene."
"So... so... "
"The child was was sequenced prior to the resurrection- or in this case, more of an ontogenesis. You are the biological mother and James Howlett is the biological father."
"Logan and I have a child?" I breathed, unable to process what I was hearing. "And it's alive? It's a... it's a baby? Is it.. is it here?" I looked around, suddenly frantic. "Is that why I'm here? You took me here because my baby is... here?"
"Yes," she replied.
"Which one?" I asked, still stunned, pushing my chair out and running over to the square isolettes, peering inside.
"Echo," she said again, flatly.
I ran down the alphabetic incubators, until I found Echo, and I pressed my hands against the glass, staring into it. There it was. There was a small face with a dark black shock of hair. The body was swaddled, only the little fingertips of one hand sticking out.
"Oh my god," I said, looking down at the sleeping baby. "Oh my god, oh my god. I can't believe this is happening. I can't believe it," I murmured to myself. I looked up again, pleading, to the nameless woman who still sat motionless. "Are you lying? Is this.. is this some kind of sick joke?" I asked, feeling queasy.
"It's not," she replied casually. "I assure you, everything I've told you is the truth. I do have the sequencing results to back up these claims if you'd like to look through them?"
"Can I pick- can I pick it up?" I asked.
"Yes," she replied. "The gender is female."
"It's a little girl?" I asked, still feeling breathless.
"Yes," the woman replied, sounding exasperated. I didn't care. This was my daughter. This was my infant daughter. I pushed the keypad at the base of the incubator and a screen came up. There were green and red icons displayed.
"Press green," the woman commanded me, as if she were giving me directions to the supermarket.
Finger shaking, I tapped the green icon, and all at once, the glass ceiling retracted on the small box and the sides sunk into the base. Hands shaking, I picked up the baby. The motion must've awoken her, because her eyes blinked open, slowly, and fixed on me. They were an icy blue.
"Hi baby," I said quietly, unwrapping the top of the swaddle and letting one small, waving arm roam free. She caught my finger and held it tight. "Hi sweetie," I said again, voice quavering, holding her against my chest as her eyes roamed over my face. She had plump little cheeks and a small, pointed chin. She did look like me. She looked like Logan, too. This was real. This was really happening. My mind felt like it was suspended, unable to fully comprehend the reality of the situation.
"I'm sorry I didn't meet you sooner. I'm your mama," I said, rocking her back and forth as she gazed at me. "Ahh!" she replied, grabbing a small fistful of my hair.
I looked back towards the woman with tears in my eyes.
"Can I... can I take her home?" I asked. Her warmth already felt familiar in my arms.
"It depends," the woman answered, as I walked back towards her holding the baby in my arms.
"Depends on what?" I asked, the steel creeping into my voice. What they had done, without telling me... without informing me... it felt criminal. It was criminal, I was sure. This was a violation of the highest order. That had been my body. This was my baby. Logan's baby. How could they have kept her here without asking me, without letting us know. Who was running this sick show, allowing these atrocities to happen?
"She stays here, for now. And you sign the contract. You'll be issued a badge and you can visit her whenever you like. When you've passed a six month probationary period, you'll undergo a battery of tests and if you pass, you may take her home at that time."
I held my daughter tighter, outraged. "What kind of bullshit is this?" I asked. "What kind of blackmailing, piece of shit deal is this supposed to be? This is MY daughter. You said so yourself. I'm taking her home with me, and I'm raising her, we are raising her, not this- facility, whatever the hell this place is. Does Xavier know about this place? Does Magneto? Apocalypse? Dear God, SCOTT doesn't know, does he?"
She ignored my questions, and instead gave me a pointed look.
"I feel I need to remind you of something, before you choose to... go the route that you are currently threatening to go."
"And what's that?" I asked angrily. The baby let out a little cry and I shushed her, re-swaddling the little waving arm. I already felt a love for her that was pushing against the waves of anger I felt staring at the lawyer, this ghastly, impassive woman trying to force me into some kind of marital servitude for reasons I didn't understand.
"If you break any of these obligations, it will end in termination of the contract, and protections will become null and void. Do you understand what that means, Mrs. Grey-Summers?"
"What does it mean?" I asked, throat suddenly dry. "And stop calling me that. My name is Jean Grey."
"If the contract is terminated, so is your daughter. You will be resurrected. She will not. She does not yet officially or legally exist in this world. She has no social security number, no birth certificate, no identifying markers save the labs we ran to determine her biological makeup."
I sat there, literally speechless, my mind wiped blank by this statement. My throat was dry. Fear surged inside me like a razorblade in my stomach.
"Are you telling me that if I don't sign that piece of paper, if I don't follow your rules, you're going to kill my daughter?" I replied in disbelief.
"That is not the language I would choose to use, but in essence," she replied. "Yes."
I sat there, perfectly still. The baby in my arms had drifted back to sleep. I couldn't imagine letting her go. I had just met her, but now that I knew she existed, now that I held her in my arms, I loved her. And I was all she had; I couldn't let her go. I couldn't let her come to harm. And I couldn't let this evil personified sitting across from me get away with any of this. But most of all, I needed my daughter safe. I needed to buy time. This was too much. Keep her safe. Keep her safe. Buy time.
Without so much as making eye contact, the lawyer handed me a pen.
Barely glancing at the paper, I signed it, letting it drop with a hollow clunk on the table.
She handed me a white badge, which I snatched from her and held close.
"Thank you for your time, that will be all," she said, gathering her things, patting her hair with one hand. She gestured to the card she had given me. "You can use this to get in. Please be discreet. I'll leave a copy of the contract for you here; be mindful that you don't leave it lying around carelessly. We've already discussed those consequences."
She packed her papers into her briefcase, locked the top, and without a word or glance towards me, left.
I sat there, holding my baby. Our baby. Our infant daughter. I watched her sleep. Her sweet face. Her smell, her- actually, her smell wasn't great right now.
"Hey, hey, hey," I said softly to her. "You need a change, yeah?"
I walked back over to her incubator, and found a pull out drawer underneath, filled with diapers and formula. She woke as I unswaddled her, undid the diaper and cleaned up the mess. It had been so long since I'd done any of this, but I guess it was like riding a bicycle. As I put back the baby wipes, and put on a fresh diaper she started crying, tiny face turning bright red, mouth open wide.
"All right, okay, I got this," I mused to myself, humming gently and wrapping her back up. I opened a bottle of formula, screwed the nipple on top and popped it in her mouth, holding it gently at an angle. She immediately stopped crying and started vigorously sucking, staring at me intently with those clear blue eyes. She took four solid ounces, unceremoniously spit up over the front of my costume, and immediately passed out again.
"You're Logan's girl all right," I murmured to myself, holding her close. The mix of emotions I was feeling right now was surreal. Anger, shock, hate, wonder, love. I needed time to process this. I needed to come up with a plan. And it was all on me, I was on my own. There was no else I could tell, no one else I could count on right now without endangering her. I watched as her eyes blinked open momentarily, then closed sleepily while I rocked her.
"I'm not going to let them hurt you, I'm going to get you out of here, okay?" I whispered. "It might take me some time. You just hang in there. I love you. You dad loves you too, even if he doesn't know it yet. We're going to be strong for you, little one. Just be patient. Be patient, baby."
She settled back into slumber, leaving me holding this warm bundle in my arms, feeling numb. I sat down heavily in the chair, sighing. I needed to stop feeling, and think. Think logically. I needed to go back home. I didn't want to, I wanted to stay here, and hold her, and love her. My child. But I couldn't, I would be missed. Logan would be wondering where I was. Scott would probably be prying around somewhere, wondering where I was too, and the last thing I wanted was the two of them having a conversation nevermind searching for me.
Putting the baby back into her isolette and leaving was one of the hardest things I'd ever done. I stood there, face pressed to the glass for what seemed like forever, just watching her sleep. I was so afraid that if I left I was never going to see her again, and I didn't even have anyone to grieve with me, no one who would even believe me. It sounded preposterous. But here she was, in front of my own eyes. Part of me wanted to rage, to cry, to wallow in self-pity, but I knew I couldn't. Not now. The baby needed me, and I wasn't going to mess this up. I was going to be who she needed. I was going to get us out of this mess.
I walked home in a daze, totally unaware of my surroundings. As I made my way back towards the door of my room, I saw a familiar figure slouched in the shadows.
"Hey Jeannie. You look beat, what happened?" Logan asked, putting a hand on the small of my back in a familiar gesture.
I jumped away like I'd been burned, "Don't touch me!" I snapped, backing away from him, heart pounding.
Logan looked at me with an expression of incredulity, and then confusion.
"Was it somethin' the lawyer said?" he asked, sounding puzzled.
"How did you know about a lawyer?" I asked in a panic.
Logan held up the yellow sticky note between two fingers, still giving me a hard look of suspicion crossed with concern.
"Okaaaay," he said slowly, holding up both hands. "Sorry darlin'. Obviously somethin' went down. You're upset. And," he sniffed, made a face, "Did somebody vomit on ya? Ugh, doesn't smell quite right though," he said, eyes narrowing, staring at the spit up stain on the front of my chest.
I stared down at the spot of curdled milk on my costume too, my thoughts darting here and there. I didn't have anything to explain this. Nothing that Logan would believe anyway, except the truth, which was far too hot to touch.
"Who were you with?" he asked me curiously, sniffing the air again and looking incredibly confused. Jesus Christ, the last thing I needed him to do was pin me down with the smell of a newborn baby.
"No one! I wasn't with anyone," I snapped. "Don't ask me again."
He didn't reply, just looked at me again like I'd lost my mind. Maybe I had. But I had one goal, and I would sacrifice anything that stood in its way, no matter how much it hurt me to do it.
"Listen...Logan," I said, slower this time, staying several feet back from him, but making eye contact so that he knew I was being serious."First of all, stop that. Stop that... smelling thing you do, quit it. I'm serious. Don't come near me. Don't pursue this. Don't ask questions. I need you to listen to me. I need you to trust me. Do you trust me?"
"Well...sure Jeannie. Yeah, I trust ya."
"Okay. Listen. I cannot talk about anything right now. I know this looks- bad, looks like something bad happened. But I need you to trust me. We can talk tomorrow. But you can't stay here tonight. We can't... you can't touch me. Do you understand?"
He stared at me, expression searching, then blank. I stared back, willing him to understand.
"Okay," he said finally. "Okay. I got it." He took a step back. "I don't like it, but... I trust ya. Listen, if you're in any trouble..?"
"I won't be," I said, taking a deep breath and gulping in air, "I won't be if you leave. I need some time. We can talk tomorrow, I promise."
"All right," Logan said softly. He looked confused, a little hurt. More than a little suspicious. But Logan was a man of his word, and if he promised me this, I knew he would let me be.
"I'll see ya tomorrow then. Love you, Jeannie," he said to me.
I stared back, eyes full of fear. I opened my mouth, closed it.
Without responding, I turned away from him, quickly shut the door behind me, and sat down in my bed, in the dark. I sat there, staring, trying to make sense of everything that had just happened. I realized I was shivering, but I wasn't cold. What I was, however, was tired, bone-tired. I could barely keep my own eyes open. Without getting undressed, I curled up into a ball there and fell into a fitful slumber.