Three monosyllabic days later, Jean was on the road again, this time riding pillion on the back of Logan's motorcycle, her cast somehow cinched securely into place, and her crutches attached to one side with bungee cords.
It really is Logan's motorcycle now. Scott was no longer around to carry on the rivalry. Because of her. One more piece of the Scott-shaped hole in the universe. If she'd know she was going to lose him, her restless mind nagged at her, would she really have watched his territorial trumpeting with such a coolly laughing disdain for alpha male games? So many memories of the two of them on this bike, countless drives through the Westchester woods, 'testing' some new modification as their excuse to get away from the Professor's knowing smile. Or the victory lap taken after her medical school graduation, the wind whipping her robes and tousling her hair as she clung to him, the mortarboard cap long lost in the dust as she enjoyed the summer breeze and the love and pride and approval from him warming her as surely as the sun. Of course, that had been before the School had gotten so busy. It had been months since their last ride. But he'd still loved her... he'd just had his duties. As had she. The Dream first above all, right? Now, all she had left was the Dream. The thought seemed rather... bleak.
Dammit, why couldn't Logan have just rented a car? Although she had to admit that the image of the Wolverine queueing in line at Budget was a pretty amusing one. There. Think of laughter, even if you don't feel it. So, Logan had Scott's bike, huh? If I catch him thinking about adding Scott's girl to the collection, she mused, with sudden heat and a tightened grip, his ass is going to be in a sling. Hah. The joke fell flat, even in her head, a wrongness to the thought, a sense of empty bravado trying to counter a truth. Thinking along those lines raised other lines she didn't want to think about, so, with a slip into half-meditation, she emptied her mind ruthlessly and focused on observing the present alone.
Trees. Lots of trees. Lots of trees, a two-lane highway, logging trucks and the occasional glimpse of a lake through wind watered eyes. 'Longlac to Hearst', Logan had identified this stretch of the drive, meaningless to her mind, but accompanied by the brief explanation of 'A shortcut'.
A shortcut. Uh-huh. "Logan, is there anything out here besides trees?"
"Sure. Moose."
"Thanks, you're so much help."
"Deer too, probably bears. Wolves, foxes, lynx, beavers..."
"I get the point!" The bike's engine roared steadily. That trademark smirk hung in the air between them, despite his broad shoulders remaining steady beyond the smooth movements of steering. Much larger shoulders than Sco-- Dammit, Jean, you really are a faithless bitch!! Annoyed with herself, she huffed a little and tuned back in to Radio Wolverine.
"No people though, if that's what you're asking. I thought you wanted to run off and abandon the world, though...?"
Smug bastard. There. That was better.
"I didn't want to be totally isolated...!" she tried to explain, the words sounding more than a little weak to her ears.
Smooth, Dr. Grey. -You- spoke to Congress?
"I just... I just... Oh hell." Glaring malevolently at the back of his head, she lapsed into a ruffled silence, with "And quit smirking!" offered as a parting shot.
The road hummed onwards beneath them, and there was a moment's adrenaline courtesy of a tired truckdriver veering into their lane. Eventually, Logan spoke, the frayed velvet of his voice caught more as a rumbling against her chest and a ripple in her mind than as word whipped through the air.
"Seems to me, Jean, that you're afraid."
She made an indistinct sound of displeasure, and was about to launch a counter-argument when a gently raised hand stilled her. But only because she preferred Logan with both hands steering, of course. Of course.
"No, you don't wanna admit it," he alowed. "Hell, you've probably gone and bought into everyone thinking you're perfect, and a good little WASP gal ain't supposed to feel the way you feel, but there's nothing wrong with wanting to live, Jeannie. Nothing wrong with saving yourself."
"You don't understand."
"I think I do, Red. I think you and I have a lot more in common than you wanna say."
"No." The sudden strength of her anger at his continued thoughts that he could possibly understand surprised the both of them, likewise the shout torn from reserved, refined Jean's throat, cracking as she held off either violence or tears. "You. Don't. Understand." she bit out, hands like claws buried in the leather of his jacket. "I killed him. He's dead because of me. We had dreams, plans, a future, and I killed them all because I just wasn't... wasn't.."
Strong enough? Fast enough? Good enough?
Something.
Taking a ragged breath, she swallowed and loosened her grip, although Logan hadn't complained. Hadn't said a word, in fact. "Focused enough," she finally settled on. "Psi adepts are all about mind over matter, right? Maybe if he'd been the only one on my mind, I could've saved him. But he wasn't, and now he's dead, and that's..."
"That's why you're afraid to let yourself live without him," Logan finished for her, the smirk gone from his voice, and his mental presence almost... troubled? Logan? They drove the next two hours in silence.