**********

When he entered the hotel lobby, he immediately felt her presence with a strength that shocked him after this time apart. He longed to throw himself at her, to feel that lovely hair tangled up around his fingers once again, but he managed to pull himself out of it and only send one, very fierce, thought: *Call me Simon. Keep calm, and call me Simon.*
Jean's voice said from another part of the lobby, where he knew there were some armchairs. She walked towards him, quickly, but not too quickly.
Raven's arm stiffened in the grip of his arm, and he pressed it gently, urging her to move forward, play along.
he said. I'm glad you came. We'll join you in just a second. You remember Betty, don't you?
Of course, Jean said, and he knew she had recognized Mystique. *Scott, what's going on?*
The thoughts flooded his mind, and he felt her stopping them, telling him to calm down, so he just told her the most urgent. *The police are after us. We broke Sabretooth out of jail, and we have kidnapped a woman.* They moved towards the elevators, and soon the familiar tinkle announced that it had entered their floor.
*WHAT!?* He honestly hoped the shock in her mental voice didn't show in her expression.
*I had to do it. She was one of the doctors.* He didn't have to explain what doctors. *I couldn't let them go through with it again. Not even with Sabretooth.* He couldn't explain why, it was too messed up even for him to understand, and after the death of those cops he wondered if this had really been the right thing to do. It didn't matter if it wasn't, he couldn't have done it differently.
Jean didn't argue, and he had a felling some of the messed up thoughts in his mind had been broadcasted as well. All three of them got out of the elevator and into the suite.
So, Jean Grey, Raven said sarcastically, how did you find us?
The professor used Cerebro. She turned to Scott. Did you really think I believed what you told me? Even without the link, I know a blatant lie when I hear it.
Well, you have to decide, Raven said. Are you with us or against us? And remember, this time your own lover will be busted.
With you, obviously. *And I trusted you not to get arrested,* Jean chided him. Is she in there?
Raven said. She was already fixing up their stuff, and didn't stop to ask how Jean knew about Dr. Finn. She was an intelligent woman and had probably figured it out.
Scott followed Jean into the bedroom and stopped behind her. She was standing by the door, staring at the doctor. She didn't say anything, and he tried looking into her mind to see what she was thinking. What he got was a mental smile followed by an image, and he suddenly realized that it wasn't just Raven being dirtyminded, the entire situation actually looked a bit kinky.
I'll take off the gag now, he said, moving past Jean to the bed. *Turn on the TV, see if you can find an action movie.* Jean obeyed him, and deliberately turned up the volume enough so that any cries from Dr. Finn would be thought to be part of the show. He put the key to the manacles on the nightstand, where the first person entering the room was sure to find it, and then removed the gag. It was wet from tears. Despite his loathing for the woman, he actually felt a little sorry for her. Xavier had always said information would change the public opinion of mutants. Kidnapping sure as hell wouldn't, and he knew what she felt like.
We'll be leaving now, he said, in a kinder tone than he had ever used before. It was easier dealing with her now that he never had to meet her again. Someone will find you soon.
Who is she? Dr. Finn whispered.
My girlfriend, Scott said shortly. He turned to leave, and his fingers brushed against Jean's arm. You coming?
She followed him outside. That woman... She was so small.
Dr. Finn was a rather tall woman, but he knew what she meant. He had realized the same thing when he ran off from the doctors in the first place, when Rogue stopped to talk to Dr. Sawyer. All those fancy words and screwed up ideals aside, Dr. Sawyer had just been a man like anyone else, someone who had made a terrible mistake and was trying to make up for it. The only difference between the two doctors in that respect was that Dr. Finn had never admitted her own imperfection. Never would.
I put the sign on the door, the cleaning woman won't skip us this time, Raven said. All finished.
They left the room and locked it, and they were halfway to the elevator when Scott felt Jean's sudden concern.
What's wrong?
Is there some other way down? There are people heading this way. Looking for us.
Scott let a curse escape his lips, and Raven provided them with more than one.
There must be something, she said, looking around. Wait a second.
She took a few steps away and there was a short pause. Of course, there had to be a map showing the exits, in case of fire. This way.
They hurried down the stairs, several stairs, and Scott had a distinct feeling Jean was giving him some telekinetic help, because at this speed he should already have bumped into something or missed a step. Jean's tension was always in his mind, but not until they had already passed by several floors did he actually hear any followers. He stiffened, and Jean pressed his hand. *We're almost down.*
Raven was ahead of them, and her steps slowed down. They couldn't come rushing out like a bunch of fugitives, even if that was what they were. Scott could hear the clatter of metal utensils telling him they were approaching the kitchen.
Guests aren't allowed in here, someone told them as they passed through the crowded room.
It's an emergency, Raven said. We have to get to the hospital right away.
The man's voice immediately changed from irritated to concerned. Is there anything I can do?
No, thank you, we'll manage.
People let them through, thank God, this would actually work out, and the pursuers were still far behind. By the time the door to the staircase opened again, they were already close to the next one, the one leading outside. They started to run again, until a car stopped with screaming brakes and Sabretooth roared: Get inside!
There wasn't enough time to get inside in a sane manner, they just jumped in with bags and all, making it rather crowded and uncomfortable. The important thing was to get the hell out of there.
Another X-man, Sabretooth complained, and Raven snapped at him:
What do you suggest, that we drop her somewhere?
He growled at her, but even if he might have found the suggestion tempting, he didn't act on it.
Scott listened anxiously for followers, but in a town like this, the sounds were soon inseparable from the rest of the traffic, and he chose to trust Jean's mind instead, listening to her anxious feelings. It took a long time before she relaxed, but finally, she leaned back.
They're gone now.
Sabretooth grunted a little. Get that stupid blonde off your face, he told Raven. In spite of the serious situation, Scott had to smile. It seemed like Dr. Finn wasn't quite Sabretooth's type of woman.
What are you going to do now? Jean asked after a while.
I don't know, Raven said, sounding rather surprised at the question.
Well, they're not looking for me, and I could change Scott's looks a little, but I don't see how Sabretooth could hide.
Always worked before, the big man pointed out.
He seemed rather calm, now that they were no longer in immediate danger. For Scott and Jean, this was the first real trouble with the police. Even though the law had never been on their side, they had tried stay within its limits. The Brotherhood, on the other hand, had been criminals for years, and visibly mutated for even longer. They were used to staying hidden, and knew every way of doing so.
Should we drop you off somewhere? Raven asked. The airport?
I think... a hairdresser, Jean said thoughtfully. Scott didn't like the thoughts she broadcasted very much, but he had to admit they made sense.
Okay. Victor...
...get down, Sabretooth filled in. Like that alien on TV, he informed the others before he stopped the car and allowed Raven to trade places with him.
Hey, Cyclops, he called from his position on the floor. (*That must be incredibly uncomfortable*, Scott thought.)

Thanks. I know I would have healed if they had started cutting me, but I wouldn't have liked it.
He certainly hadn't expected any courtesy from Sabretooth. You're welcome.

**********

Although he didn't actually need to hold on to her arm, he did it anyway. After everything that had happened, it was her closeness he needed, more than her physical support. The mind link comforted him even more than her arm, since it told him exactly what he wanted to know -- there was no one looking for them here. He had never thought it could be so lovely just to *not* be chased by the police. That would have made him a lot happier if his head hadn't been so uncomfortable. Dying his hair had been a sensible precaution, and it wasn't that he objected to it not being a necessary one, but... well, he just didn't like it.
Jean snickered a little.
he asked, following the stream of feet moving towards the boarding gate.
She silenced for a while, but soon she snickered again.
That bad huh? Scott asked.
Well, no... I just never imagined you as a blonde.
He sighed a little. Usually, his hair fell down over his forehead, almost reaching his eyes. Now that it had been cut, the breeze felt strange around his head. As for the dye, it stung his head a little, and smelled rather strange, but that would wear off, he guessed.
So, how do I look? Like that guy on Buffy?
I'm afraid not. More like that guy on Ally McBeal.
He groaned.
Her mind told him to cheer up. *At least I don't think anyone would recognize you.*
*I hope you're right.*
They got closer to the boarding gate, handed over their tickets, and finally the plane arrived, the one that would take them back home. When they sat down in the plane, Scott felt Jean relax, body and soul both. Not until then had he realized how tense she was. What kind of low-life was he, dragging her into this? It wasn't a justified cause by any of the X-men standards, letting innocent people die just to get one psycho out of trouble. If it had been one of those hypothetical quizzes they handed you in school, he would have branded his actions as wrong. But this wasn't hypothetical, this was real, and he couldn't have done it any other way.
Can I take your cane, sir?
He jumped a bit when the voice addressed him. It took a while before he remembered to add thank you. Why did they even ask that? In spite of all that food serving and cute legs thing, stewardesses were there to help out in case of an emergency, right? Well, if the plane went down, he wanted the cane with him, not stuck away somewhere. He chided himself for being so edgy. Public airplanes had never been his favourites, he used to prefer to be his own pilot, something he'd never do again. That certainly added to his bad mood, but not enough by itself to make him snap at the woman like that. It was this entire mission. Now, when it was over, it was getting to him.
There had been a dream once, something to believe in. Sure, some of him had wanted to believe because it was Xavier's dream and he'd do anything for Xavier. But that wasn't the whole truth. He had honestly believed in the dream, he had struggled not only to know what was right but to do it as well. He had never been prepared for a situation when there was no such thing as the right choice. When there was no room for love between hatred and indifference.
Jean's hand caressed his cheek, softly, and he knew he had been broadcasting.
*Sorry,* he sent her, enjoying the possibility to talk to her like this. Missing her had been hard, and the hardest part was missing the link.
*It's okay.* She leaned over to kiss him, lightly bringing up the lesser problem to keep him from thinking of the bigger. *Maybe you should get a foldable cane instead.*
He was grateful for this. Deep brooding was one thing when they were alone, at home. He didn't want to get started on it here. *You were the one who said one-piece is better for beginners.*
*But you're not a beginner anymore,* she reminded him. *I didn't realize it myself until at the hotel. The moment you entered I could feel all your stress and mixed up emotions, but it didn't show. You were so graceful, clearing the path to the left as you were taking a right step, and then the other way around.*
He shrugged. That was the natural way.
*Don't you remember how clumsy you were at first?*
She reminded him teasingly, and he had to laugh, but soon the laughter died.
*I was better off then.*
She put her arms protectively around him, telling him that was not true. He let himself be carried by her touch, to forget about the guilt and the desillusion that weighed on him as heavily as fear had done before. Nothing was ever quite wrong when Jean was with him. She was the only one who could take the weight of the world off his shoulders, like Hercules had done for Atlas, but unlike Hercules, she was willing to hold on.
Are you falling asleep? She spoke out loud, but very softly.
I think so, he mumbled. He lifted his head from her shoulder. Do you mind?
No, I could use some sleep myself.
She let her head rest by his, and soon they were both sleeping, uncomfortably seated, but comfortably close.

**********

The nap lasted almost all the way to NYC. Scott was the first one to wake up, and he mentally nudged Jean. When she only drowsily turned around in his lap he shook her gently. Finally, she gave in and seemed to wake up completely in a second, just like a cat.
Before long, the plane landed, and they got their stuff together. Although neither of them said anything even mentally, Scott knew Jean felt just as excited to come home as he did. It was a good thing they were seated so close to the exit and didn't have to wait to get out.
They walked quickly through the hallways leading from the airplane to the main building. Scott already heard the sounds of an open area by the time he felt Jean stiffen. His first instinct was to run, but the crowd behind them was pushing them forward.
FBI. Can we have a word with you, sir?
The words were spoken aimably and low, but Scott had no reason to felt reassured by that. There was no way he could run from the feds, and he mentally told Jean not to fight them. He didn't want her involved in this, things were bad enough as it was.
Of course.
A hand took his arm, and he knew there was no use in telling them he preferred it the other way around. They may want it to look like they were doing it for support, but that wasn't the truth. Scott tried not to panic, but couldn't help but wonder what would happen with him. Thank God he was no longer in California, they would have fried him instantly there -- unless they found too much pleasure in keeping a mutant criminal alive. New York State was more moderate, but with the things he had done, there were prison walls at the end of the road anyway. He was grateful Jean was just coming along without causing any trouble. Whatever happened to him, he wanted her out of it.
They did keep up the almost-friendly act though. Compared to the over-pitying attitude strangers used to give him it was practically the cold shoulder, but it made him feel more at ease during the car ride to wherever they were going.
He was lead into a building and asked Jean through the mind link what it was like, but from her description it was as anonymous to her as it was to him.
You will have to stay outside, ma'am.
Even though he was now separated from Jean, Scott felt relieved that she was allowed so close to the room where he was seated. He would be able to keep at least some mental connection to her. The chair was hard and uncomfortable, and it creaked a little when he sat down.
You were travelling as Scott Summers, the one remaining man said. His voice was low and calm, like a psychiatrist on TV, and from the height of it, he was even taller than Scott. Is that your real name?
What was the point in lying?
The man sat down opposite him. Well, Mr. Summers, earlier today a dangerous mutant escaped from a prison in San Francisco, California. Three policemen died, a fourth is still in critical condition. His accomplices had also kidnapped a Dr. Elizabeth Finn, and one of them had somehow managed to take her appearance. The other one fits your description. Obviously, we also have witnesses that could confirm for certain that you were there.
They would have. I'm entitled to a lawyer, aren't I?
The man sighed. You're entitled to one, but we would prefer it if you didn't have one.
Scott frowned. He didn't understand what they were getting at.
Mr. Summers, in spite of what you may believe, you are not under arrest.
Then what's this all about? He tried to keep calm.
We have a proposition for you. There was a short pause as the man waited for an answer. When he didn't get one, he continued: Dr. Elizabeth Finn was part of a research group that last summer tried to find ways of eliminating mutant powers. The project was supported by concerned authorities, but recently evidence has come forward that indicates that the official records were not entirely truthful. The man paused, moving about on his chair. It seemed like Scott wasn't the only one who was uncomfortably seated.
Were you one of the subjects to this project?
Scott didn't answer, and the man took a deep breath, rising from his chair and walking up to the wall. There must be a window.
We want to know what happened during that project, Mr. Summers. So do the people who authorized this. If you do have any information on that project, we want you to tell us everything you know. Furthermore, once you have done that, we don't want you to ever bring it up again. If the press, or the law, or anyone else asks you about this, you have never heard of such a project. Am I making myself clear?

If it got out that high authorities, whichever they could be, had supported violent experimentation on mutants, it would ruin their credibility. Claiming that they hadn't known the truth wouldn't help, that would only make them look like easily fooled morons. Scott had no problem understanding why they wanted to cover things up.
Good. In return for that testimony, we have never heard of you, Scott Summers. We never had this conversation. The person we're looking for was never caught -- maybe he was killed in the chase. How does that sound?
Scott's expression turned into stone. It was incredibly tempting. All they really wanted to do was cover their tracks. They were dead scared of what the public would have to say about them. Maybe they feared that if the truth got out, it would swing the public opinion in favour of mutants. The only problem was, he couldn't believe he and Rogue were really that important. There had to be more to this. More mutants harmed, probably. Raven had picked up a few clues from Dr. Dean, but if they made any sense to her, she hadn't told him about it. All he knew was that something awful had been going on, and they wanted him to help them cover it up. He shouldn't accept the offer, but could he afford not to?
I don't really have to tell you what the consequences of your actions would be if you dealed with this the legal way, do I?
Scott shook his head numbly. New York State wasn't quite as anti-mutant as California, so he might have some chance of getting a fair treatment. Trouble was, even a fair treatment wouldn't prevent him from spending the rest of his days in jail. That was what made him suspicious about this deal. Things had to be pretty bad if they were willing to put him back on the streets.
What did they do? You won't make me believe that you're going through all this trouble for my sake. Who else was hurt?
A long silence. The man's voice was kind as he finally replied: I'll tell you everything we know, but not until after you have given your testimony.
That made sense. The only way they could tell if he was lying was by comparing his statements to what they had already found out. Fortunately, he had another way, and he gently reached out to Jean, asking her to check if they were honest. The answer was swift: they were. His mind screamed at him to take the offer, to find out what had happened and then finally rest. But that was the coward's way out. These people, these doctors, were still walking the streets. How could he betray their former and future victims just to save his own skin?
If I tell you what I want to know, what are you going to do with it?
The FBI man seemed to ponder that for a few seconds, then he answered: The New York project didn't last long. There has been plans to start similar projects in other states. Those plans will obviously be abandoned now. I can also guarantee that none of the doctors who took part in the original project will ever practice medicine again.
That was a lot less than perfect, but it was probably the best he could get. Maybe he could get more by allowing himself to be a martyr, spreading the word around to every reporter who wanted to listen, but he doubted it. And those doubts spoke to the coward inside him, the one who was much bigger than he wanted to admit.
You don't have much of an option, Mr. Summers.
There was a doctor who helped us, Scott said, lifting his head up, testing the man. Dr. Sawyer. Why don't you get his testimony?
The man cleared his throat. We have... located Dr. Sawyer, at an institution in New Rochelle. However, he had been drugged down for more than six months and did not seem to understand our questions.
Scott lost his breath. They had turned on their own, just as Raven said. He wondered if she had known this.
We treat this very seriously.
Well, of course you do, he whispered, his mouth and voice not quite obeying him. When they do it to humans, it's just not acceptable anymore, even to you. Is it? He couldn't stop the sarcasm from entering his voice.
A cold passionless voice. Will you cooperate?
Scott leaned back. He could have been a hero once, but he certainly wasn't anymore. The dream wouldn't lead him, he was on his own.


**********

The tapping of a pencil to the table was the only sound in the room for minutes after Scott had finished his story. Tap. Tap-tap. The rhythm was almost musical.
Good enough for you? Scott finally asked bitterly.
The tapping stopped, then there was another sound. Skin to skin -- the man was rubbing his forehead. Godless shit, he muttered under his breath. Scott probably wasn't supposed hear that, so he pretended he hadn't.
Then will you tell me what else they did?
The very deep breath coming from the man told him that whatever was coming up wasn't something he'd appreciate hearing.
We don't have the whole truth, obviously. But from what we have, the official records seem to have been less than truthful, to say the least. He started tapping again. You were considered a success, for one thing. You were their first subject -- well, you and the girl.
He had suspected that much. The doctors hadn't seemed very prepared for failure.
Dr. Finn left right after the experiments were finished on the third subject, a young man with an electric field around him. They managed to eliminate the field on the second try. First time around he got electric shocks from his own body. It's not quite clear how much damage that did, but the inofficial notes do indicate that he recovered.
That's all you've got? Scott asked.
That, and people telling of peculiar kidnappings and disappearances. Also, some of the equipment left told us something -- well, those of us who understand that sort of things.
No witnesses?
They induced amnesia on all their subjects, and the doctors refuse to admit anything. He gave a snorting laugh. Guess in a way it's a good thing you released that psycho.
Scott didn't answer. He was still thinking of the previous sentence. If he and Rogue hadn't run away, they would have been drifting around without any memories of themselves, just like Logan. Even if the professor had found them, they wouldn't have remembered him. And Jean... he wouldn't even have the memory of her face.
The man started to speak again. Fourth subject was a middle-aged woman with chilling breath, literaly. She was married, we found her family. They had reported her missing. Doubt that they'll ever find her. She was alive when she left the clinic, after a double lung transplant that was successful from their point of view. The notes said she was asthmatic afterwards, so I don't know if she's still alive.
Scott closed his eyes instincively to stop the tears. The man's voice was getting rougher.
Fifth was the first death. A junkie, apparently. He had poisonous spikes that came out at will. They tried to pull them out one by one. The unofficial notes say he died before the experiments were completed, but they don't say why. He seems to have been in a bad condition, so it may not have been their fault. Still, Dr. Duke left after that. He tried to make a joke. This is beginning to sound like 'And Then There Was None'.
Scott didn't smile. A person had died at that place. If the doctors were leaving because they actually had some sort of conscience, great, but that didn't help anyone but themselves.
The man cleared his throat. Sixth was a telepath. Her we have actually found, at that institution in New Rochelle. They did some sort of lobotomy on her. She's not a vegetable or anything, but she's most definitely half-witted.
The closed eyelids didn't help now, tears came trickling down Scott's face.
How many more? he whispered, not certain he could listen much longer.
Just one more. There was no coldness in the man's voice anymore. A baby born with gills. The project was originally intended for adult, dangerous mutants, but they decided to expand.
Scott knew what was coming before the man even continued, and he prayed that he would be wrong, that it was not so.
It died.
Scott let out a quiet sob.
There seems to have been internal strifes already, and after that, the project was closed. The leaders haven't been on speaking terms since. Of course, all that was told in the official records was that the expansion idea had been abandoned.
Anyone could have figured out the truth, Scott knew that. The authorities had just decided not to ask. Don't ask where the mutants came from, don't ask what happened to them afterwards. You don't want to know.
I hope our agreement still stands.
No, he thought, no it doesn't. He wanted the whole world to know about this. But what was the point? A handfull of mutants, only two of whom had actually died, and a young doctor. What was that to a world that couldn't even be bothered to care for long about Israel or Balkan?
It stands. He wanted to stand up, leave this room, but he didn't know if he was allowed to. Also, he didn't quite trust his legs. Can I leave? he asked -- no, pleaded. He hadn't meant it to come out so pathetic.
The man came up to him and grabbed his arm again, and this time he knew it was meaningful to argue.
I'd prefer it if I could take your arm.
Before they came to the door, the man said: Mr. Summers.

That mutant you released was a killer.
I know. What was he supposed to say, that he was sorry? He wasn't. Maybe he should be.
I'm an Amnesty guy, I've been arguing for years that you can't do any sort of things to a person just because they're bad. So I guess I understand why you did it. It's still stupid, though.
It wasn't much support, but Scott appreciated it never the less. Thank you.

**********

Scott shuddered a little when he stepped out of the taxi. Snow was falling on his face, and after this time in San Francisco, it was a strange feeling. He guessed it had been cold before, when the FBI tok him away, but everything had been so chaotic then he hadn't really noticed. At least it hadn't snowed back then, he was almost certain of that.
He waited for Jean to get the suitcase out from the trunk. In spite of the cold, he was certainly not in any hurry to get inside. How would he ever be able to face the others? Before, he used to think he had lost the ability to fight with them. He knew now that it wasn't so. It was even worse. He had lost the *right* to fight with them. He didn't belong in the team anymore, and that hurt, because they were the only family he had.
Rogue's voice, followed by two pair of feet running in his direction. Jean's warm hand slipped into his. So far she hadn't reproached him once. It surprised him a little, but he was entirely grateful for it. How to handle Rogue was another matter. Out of all the people at the mansion, she was probably the most likely to understand what he had done. That didn't mean he had the right to mess up her mind when she had only recently come to terms with herself.
Her voice was warm, and she gave him a big hug, careful not to touch anything uncovered. I'm so glad you're back.
She's speaking for both of us. Another voice from behind Rogue, and Scott managed to smile.
Hi Bobby. Thanks. He wrapped his arms around Rogue. Okay, don't squeeze all the air out of me.
She finally let go, and they all began walking towards the house. You've been gone for so *long*.
I know. I meant to come home earlier. Conversation was painful, but he kept it up for her sake, because he had really missed her. Her overwhelming welcoming surprised him. They were close, but this had a touch of desperation. The leader inside him told him to find out if something was wrong, but he was so tired, he couldn't bear anything else. It was only Jean's mind embracing his that kept him going as far as to their room.
He didn't know if Rogue left because she sensed all this or if it was actually true that she had math class. In a way, he was relieved that she was gone, and that made him feel guilty.
he asked, when the boy had already turned to leave him and Jean alone. Is Rogue okay?
I think so. She's just troubled over Logan. Sabretooth escaped from prison yesterday, it's been all over the news. Logan has been wrecking things all day.
Scott didn't know what else to say. Although Logan's memory was still jagged pieces, he had found out months ago that he hated Sabretooth with a passion. If Logan ever found out Scott was responsible for this, he'd beat him into a bleeding pulp.
Yeah, well. Whatever made him feel better. Whatever made them both feel better.
Jean closed the door behind them and put the suitcase down on the floor. I'm taking a shower. Join me.
It wasn't even a question, it was an order.
Jean, I'm not about to...
You're about to rest. Lord knows when you last did it. If we take a hot shower first, it will be easier for you.
Her voice was determined, and he slowly took off his jacket, not sure if he intended to continue with the rest of his clothes. Counting the hours, he realized it was about nine o'clock in the morning here. Definitely no time to go to bed. Besides, they had been sleeping on the plane. He should get things ready. Unpack, for one thing. Not that he much cared about the things in his suitcase the way things were. But even if he let that be, which was sloppy in itself, there were other things to do. He should talk to the professor. God, he *really* didn't want to do that.
So his hands didn't stop moving when his jacket and shoes were off. His feet proceeded to the bathroom by their own free will. And when the hot shower was over, without his permission, his body curled up to Jean's in their bed and had its pleasure. It refused to listen to him anymore. It was tired of him. And so he surrendered and gave up his broodings for a few hours, traded it in for the softness of Jean beside him.

**********