Standard disclaimer: I don't own them; I'm just borrowing them for our entertainment.

Scylla and Charybdis

Part 6 - Sophomore Year: Into the Maelstrom

At Columbia-Presbyterian Hospital, Jean stood at the nurses station, going over the chart of her patient and chatting with Donna, the head nurse on the ward. Jean had learned that the nurses could either make a new doctor's life easy or difficult and worked hard for friendly working relationships with all the staff.

But Donna was her favorite on the ward. Fifteen years older than Jean, she had a lot of ward experience and even better, was very easy to talk to. They worked together well. Jean had even gotten past her own reserve to talk about her own life and would have been surprised to realize how much information Donna had gleaned about her from these conversations.

At the moment, Jean stifled a yawn. It had been a tough week; long hours, not enough time with the patients. She had lost a patient yesterday -- that was always gut wrenching. And she hadn't gotten enough sleep last night. If only she could rest; she was so tired ...

If the poor thing doesn't slow down, she's going to crash and burn.

Jean looked up in shock. It was Donna's voice, but Donna was looking at the patient board.

She's going to die tomorrow, I know it.

Jean's head whipped around and followed the sad faced woman as she walked to the elevator.

Concentrate, Jean, she told herself. Deep breath, concentrate. Build the wall, brick by brick...

She tried the concentrate; she tried all the tricks Professor Xavier had ever taught her. But it didn't help. The voices still came at her. Jean had no idea she had gone white and her breathing was labored.

"Jean, are you okay?" Donna asked anxiously. She looked like she was going to collapse any minute.

Jean didn't hear her voice. The whirlwind had begun. It was no longer one voice, one mind. It was all of them, everyone. The nurses, the doctors, the patients, the visitors, the custodians. Everyone in the room, everyone in the hall, everyone everywhere. She felt she was being submerged in thoughts. There was no more control She was drowning.

"No!," she screamed. "Get out of my mind. GET OUT OF MY MIND!"

She wailed and flailed about. Shocked, Donna took charge. She held Jean down while another resident readied a sedative. Jean barely felt the prick of the needle through the maelstrom in her mind. Then there was blissful silence.

x x x x x

The hospital ward was stunned. The staff took Jean to an empty room and laid her on the bed before getting her emergency contact information. Jean's "in case of emergency" file was quite clear -- call Professor Charles Xavier at the Xavier Institute, Salem Center, in Westchester.

x x x x x

Ororo Munroe answered the phone. Her eyes widened in shock. She understood the situation far better than the hospital.

"Yes, yes, I understand," she said. "Someone will be there as soon as possible."

She looked at the big clock in the hall. The Professor was in Washington with Hank and wouldn't be back until tomorrow. And even if she left now, it would be almost two hours before she could get there. But there was someone else closer. She dialed a number she knew by heart.

x x x x x

Scott had made the train to New York City with minutes to spare. He tried not to fidget on the trip. He needed to stay calm, for Jean's sake. He went as quickly as possible from the train station to the hospital. Scott made his way to Jean's ward and paused at the nurse's station. "Excuse me," he said. "I'm Scott Summers from the Xavier Institute. I've come to pick up Dr. Grey."

Donna looked up at the sound of his voice. She recognized it from Jean's conversations and knew they had gone out briefly and that Jean had ended the relationship. 'Good Lord,' she thought. 'He's twelve.'

Out loud she said, "I'm glad you're here. We don't know what happened; there wasn't anything out of the ordinary going on. I know Jean's been tired lately, but no more than usual, I thought. And I've seen her handle all kinds of chaos before; I don't understand what happened. She just fell apart."

Scott said nothing. How could he tell her that Jean's mental shields had obviously slipped, letting in a torrent of thoughts and emotions she just couldn't handle?

Donna led Scott to the room where Jean lay. The sedative was starting to wear off.

"Scott?" Jean whispered.

"It's me," he replied. "Don't worry, Jean, I've come to take you home."

"No shields," Jean whimpered. "No shields."

"Shush, shush, I know. It's going to be all right." Scott turned to Donna. "Do you know where she keeps her purse and coat? It's getting cold outside."

"I'll go get them for you," Donna offered. When she returned, Scott had Jean sitting upright. He helped her on with her coat, stuffed her purse in his backpack and held her firmly as they walked slowly to the elevator. He turned to Donna before they got on the elevator.

"Thanks," he said.

'Well,' Donna thought as they left. 'Definitely not twelve.'

x x x x x

Scott wanted to avoid large groups of people for Jean's sake so they bypassed the subway and took a taxi to her apartment. Once inside, he took off her coat and got her to lie down. Then he called the Institute.

Ororo must have been waiting by the phone; she got it on the first ring.

"Xavier Institute," she said quickly.

"Hi, it's Scott," he began. "I've got Jean back to her apartment. I don't want to take her to the Institute tonight, though -- she'd freak before we ever got there."

"It's that bad?"

"Yes, it's that bad," he said grimly. "When the Professor and Hank get back, have Hank come straight here. That'll be the best thing. I'll stay here until then."

"Are you sure you can handle her?"

"No," Scott replied. "But I'll manage. I'll see you tomorrow."

He hung up the phone and went to look in on Jean. She was huddled in a corner of her bed. He wasn't sure if the glassy-eyed look she had was the drugs or not. Unsure what to do, Scott sat beside her and took her hand. She turned to look at him, as if for the first time, and touched his forehead. "You've got a strong mind," she said, her speech still a little slurred. "A solid mind." She touched her own head and sobbed, "...broken."

"No, no," he crooned. "Not broken. Not broken." Scott pulled her into his arms and held her close. "You're going to be okay, Jean. I'll look after you."

"Don't let me go."

"I won't let you go," he assured her as he held her closer. "Not ever."

x x x x x

Close to midnight, Scott woke up. He had fallen asleep with Jean still in his arms. One glance assured him that she was now asleep; she looked almost peaceful. Carefully, he slid his arm out from under her, trying not to wake her. He figured the best thing for Jean would be to sleep.

Scott crossed the tiny living room to the kitchenette and opened the refrigerator. He hadn't had dinner and was now starving. Fortunately, Jean had food in the house. He found leftovers in neat tubs. He pulled one out, identified the contents as lasagna, and warmed it in the microwave for a few minutes.

He had just finished putting it on a plate when he heard movement behind him. Jean was up. She still looked shaky, but she was up.

"Hey," Scott said as he saw her walk unsteadily into the room. "Do you want something to eat?"

She shook her head.

"Come and sit with me," he said, taking his plate to the couch where Jean joined him. He was feeling his way through the situation.

In spite of having refused dinner, Scott knew Jean had to be hungry. He managed to convince her to eat by the simple expedient of feeding her half of his dinner like a child. One forkfull for him, one for her.

"Are you still getting feedback?" Scott didn't know the technical term for what had happened to Jean in the hospital, but she understood.

"No," she said. "I can't hear through walls unless I concentrate and there's no one else around. You're fine. You have natural shields -- a nice strong mind."

"Must be related to my hard head," he quipped and was gratified by a chuckle.

"Not quite," Jean replied. "It's happened before, you know. My telepathy going into a tailspin like that. This happened when my powers first manifested. With Annie."

Scott put his arm around her and she gratefully leaned against him. Scott knew Jean's gifts had manifested relatively young, but had never before heard the details.

She continued in a low voice. "It happened when I was ten. Annie was my best friend. We were playing in the front yard. She ran into the street and a car was coming -- there was nothing anyone could do. She died in my arms. I felt her leave."

Scott said nothing, but continued to hold Jean close.

"After that, it was an explosion of voices in my head. Everyone thought I had gone insane. My parents took me to every doctor they could. I was mis-diagnosed as a schizophrenic -- the doctors recommended a psychiatric institution. But my parents refused. My mother especially refused to give up. She took me out of school and home-schooled me for two years. My parents continued to take me to every specialist they could find. They finally found the Professor. He knew exactly what had happened, of course. He was able to lock down my powers; he said I was too young to learn to control them. I was probably too unstable by then, as well; I saw him every week for two years just as a psychologist. Later, the Professor slowly released my powers and taught me to control them. That's when we found out I was a strong telekinetic as well."

Scott closed his eyes and thanked God for Jean's parents. He knew exactly what could happen to pretty girls in a psych ward. He also found himself forced to rethink his opinion of her mother. Her tigerish protectiveness of Jean was now much more understandable.

"Is that when you came to school at the Institute?" Scott asked.

"No, that was later. I went back to school afterwards, but I never really fit in again. My mother had taught me too well; I skipped a grade and my old friends -- well, they just knew me as "Crazy Jean". I wasn't exactly popular. Finally, for my last two years of high school, my parents let me stay at the Institute and go to school in Salem, where no one knew me. Hank started coming around that time, as well, but he was already in college. Then I went to college and the Professor started finding more of us." Jean sighed, as if the burden of her memories exhausted her. "I've missed you so much. Make love to me, Scott. I need you to hold me."

Scott thought fleetingly of all the reasons why he shouldn't do this, but followed her back to the bedroom and into her bed.

He didn't think once of Emma.

x x x x x