The Lady, the Leader and the Bump in the Road

Part Seven/?

Author: Nefret24

Disclaimers and notes, see part 1.

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"There. Happy now?" Jean displayed her dish, clean with the exception of crumbs and a gooey puddle of mayonnaise in the upper left corner.

"Immeasurably," Scott smirked back at her, shoving the last potato chip into his mouth. Both too tired to join the students in the cafeteria, and both not really wanting to in the first place, they had snuck into the kitchen to make themselves a couple of sandwiches and get some peace and quiet.

Which would have happened, if it had not been for the students who didn't want to go to the cafeteria either (which if it wasn't a majority, sure seemed like it to them).

Logan had walked in as they were cleaning up. "Hey- Jean, was it? Professor X wants me to get settled in," he said, leaning up against the refrigerator. "Guess I'll be staying around for a little bit."

"Be still my beating heart," Scott mumbled sarcastically from the sink, low enough for only Jean to hear.

Or so he thought.

"I'm happy for you too, cupcake," Logan rejoined, forcing Scott out of sheer shock to drop the dish he was drying back into the soapy sink with a clang. Jean hid her laughter, turning her face into her shoulder. "So, do I get to sleep in the infirmary again or what?"

Scott was about to tell him exactly where he could go, but Jean's hand on his forearm silenced him. "I'll show him upstairs."

"This way," she said, brushing past Logan through the tight space between the countertop and the fridge. His eyes widened and his lips formed a salacious "o" shape. Waggling his eyebrows at Scott, he followed behind her obediently, leaving behind one very irate mutant to deal with the dishes.

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"In here," Jean said, opening the door to a corner bedroom. Logan raised his eyebrows speculatively and entered the room before her, enjoying the second moment of the night wherein he had gotten to brush by her in extreme proximity. He surveyed the room, shoving his hands into his jean pockets and rocking ever so slightly on the balls of his feet. It was serviceable enough, he supposed. A lot nicer than some of the dives he had formerly stayed in, that was for sure.

She moved to a cupboard to show him sheets, clothes and extra toiletries like toothpaste and shaving cream. He wanted desperately to say something, to make her stay in the room longer than her cursory walk-through, just to smell her expensive perfume.

Jean for her part was torn. The man Logan was regarding her with intense curiosity, an occurrence she was familiar with what with the raging male hormones of certain students. But he was far from a fledgling schoolboy with a crush on a teacher. This was a fully-grown and fully formed, strapping bulk of a man, not too hard on the eyes (except for the hairy bit) the intensity was unnerving.

Extremely flattering, intriguing even. Tempting to a certain degree.

Unnerving in the extreme, to be sure. She was on her way to a hasty exit when the cockiness resurfaced and he asked her, as she knew he would, where her room was.

"Down the hall with Scott."

He didn't seem too impressed by the delineation laid out for him and continued to hold her in conversation, inquiring after her mutation.

She slammed the cabinet shut behind him and was gratified by his shocked swivel backward to marvel at what she had done. "I can move things with my mind," she replied, a bit cocky herself, feeling her lips curve into a smile. "I also have some telepathic ability."

"Like your professor?"

"But nowhere near as powerful," she demurred, looking down and remembering her previous conversation with Scott about Cerebro.

Logan smiled and she felt her stomach clench, her breath momentarily lost in the awe of his face, insufferably smug and yet so appealing

"Read my mind."

He stared her down, willing her to look at him and she felt her cheeks suffuse with heat under his gaze. She didn't need to be telepathic to read what he had in mind.

"I can't."

"Come on, try it," he egged her on huskily, stepping forward, closing in, getting strategic inches closer to his goal.

Jean would not be forced into stepping back or of hiding from confrontation. Nor would she give up a genuine opportunity to try her hand at what she had been determined to do for the longest time- hone her telepathic skills. And here was a mind, willing and open

"You might like it," he said, grinning down at her, the space between them practically closed.

She began to think that this was a dangerous business for completely different reasons than those she had discussed with Scott.

"I really doubt it," she feebly rejoined, unable to stop the smile and blush of her cheeks. He seemed utterly serious- all cockiness aside.

Okay, Jean. You can do this. You're a professional. It's professional.

Licking her lips and raising her hands to the sides of his face, she steadied herself and took a deep breath.

Pain. Mind-exploding pain.

Every limb on fire, screaming, screaming. Somebody's screaming.

Is it me? Green liquid swirls, bubbles fly past my nose. How can I scream in water? Is it water?

Distorted masks skulls? Zombies floating in and out of my vision white hot pain, all the colors of the rainbow but mostly green

Pulled in ten directions at once- my bones are breaking zombies cackling pain, so much.

She forcefully broke the connection, her eyes flying open, scared, breathless, recovering from the all-too real nightmarish vision. She tried to speak but found no voice, still feeling choked by green bubbles.

Logan clasped both of her hands in his, warm, comforting, so large in comparison. Genuine concern writ across his face. "What did you see?" he asked, not sure if he really wanted to know the answer to his question, frightened by her reaction.

She looked at him, her eyes slightly teary, wide-open and disoriented. It was too much- she looked away.

And saw Scott in the doorway. Oops.

"Scott," she managed somewhat breathlessly, and pulled her hands away from Logan's reassuring grip.

Scott said nothing, just stood there, dumbly staring, arms folded like he had caught a student defacing a mansion hallway.

Jean hastily made a retreat, heading to her room, hoping that Scott would follow her example. After she had turned the corner and had found herself to be alone in the hallway, she cringed, feeling slightly ashamed and slightly pissed off. What right had Scott to make any assumptions about her and Logan anyway? It wasn't like she was kissing him or anything (although there's a thought)

She waited in their bedroom for him to come and admonish her but he didn't appear. She pulled her hair out of its ponytail and combed it through, counting the minutes. She didn't hear screaming or ambulance sirens- always a good sign.

She tentatively reached out telepathically and found him on his way to the gym. That bad, she winced, thinking that this time she really would have to order a new punching bag.

TBC.