A/N: Okay, I know some of you would like Scott and Jean to just confess their feelings and get together, and I'd like to tell you that they'll just realize their flaws straight away, but to quote Peter Pan "then there would be no story."

Disclaimer: I own absolutely nothing except for any changes to the plot that you don't recognize.

"Normal speaking"

'telepathically speaking'

thoughts

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Beams of sunlight danced across the blue coverlet, tiptoeing playfully over Jean's eyelids. Cracking open one eye, she nestled deeper into Scott's chest, blocking her face from the light. Once again she was amazed by how perfectly her small frame fit into his form, almost as though they were made to be together . . .

Scott felt his stomach tense as Jean burrowed her face into his chest, breathing the heavy scent of his laundered clothes. Gently, so as not to wake her, he slipped his arms around her, embracing her slim body. Fingers playing on the hem of her night-shirt, he softly pressed his face into her hair, inhaling the sweetness of her shampoo. Smiling slightly, he kissed the crown of her forehead, his lips lingering in her hair. He knew she was just here for support, for someone to hold her while she was scared; to embrace their friendship, but Scott couldn't help feeling as though maybe something good would come from this. True, once she woke she'd stumble back to her room and never breathe a word of Scott's comforting to anyone, but for now, she was his . . .

Jean smiled in spite of herself as she felt Scott's lips brush her forehead; he didn't know she was awake. He was so protective of her, she almost giggled as his hands gently caressed her back. She knew he'd be mortified if he knew she was awake, so she lay there as still as she could manage, indulging in the peacefulness of Scott's arms. She knew she should get up soon, that the professor and Logan would be calling them for school, but for now she would live in the moment. Jean felt that what she was doing was wrong; somewhere inside of her she knew she shouldn't be here, but another thought playfully tickled her mind. What if we are meant to be?

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"I don't see what the big deal is! I told you that I'd get a ride home with someone else and you seemed fine with it, so I did."

"The big deal is that you went home with Summers!"

"Yeah, I went home with Scott, it seemed like the logical choice, we live in the same flippin' building!" Jean was losing her temper now, and her voice was slightly rising with each word, oblivious to the stares she was receiving.

"I don't care, get Sandy or Taryn to take you next time, I don't want you riding with Summers again." Duncan's steely gray gaze was fixed on her blushing cheeks.

"Duncan! Scott's my best friend; I'm not going to stop hanging out with him just because you say so!"

"And why not?" Now Duncan was angry as well, "I'm your boyfriend, not him. Besides, I've seen the way Summers looks at you, I don't need you to make is ambition to steal you away from me any easier!"

What is Duncan talking about? "Scott and I are just friends, Duncan! Stop being so paranoid!" If we're just friends, why am I blushing?

"I don't care, Jean, I want you to stay away from him!

"No," she whispered fiercely, her suppressed rage beginning to envelope her logical reason.

Duncan's hands tightened around her arms, furious to her answer.

"Stop it, Duncan, you're hurting me!"

"No, not until you promise to stay way from Summers!"

"Duncan!" Jean gasped, surprised by the pain soaring through her arms. They've got to be bruising, what will Scott say when he sees my arms? What if he connects it to Duncan? That'll only create more animosity between them.

Almost as soon as she'd had the thought, a fist came flying out of nowhere, and the next thing Jean knew she had slipped to the floor, opening her eyes to see Duncan sailing backward into a wall of lockers. Strong arms embraced jean, easing her to her feet.

"Are you all right?" Scott whispered, concern lilting his voice. "Did he hurt you?"

His soft breathing warmed her face and her heart began to beat erratically, suddenly all too aware of how close they were standing. She pulled her hands out of his and took a step backwards, feeling as though all her breath would be stolen from her lungs if she didn't' distance herself from Scott. "I'm fine," she muttered shortly, brushing off her jeans.

Scott looked down the hall, his gaze trailing where Duncan had stormed off. "Jean-"

"Scott," she cut him off, "Drop it, okay?"

He frowned deeply at the sudden malice in Jean's usually optimistic tone. He tried to open his mind to her, hoping she'd send him some emotion, hoping she'd let him on to what was bothering her, but he met nothing but a void of silence. "Jean," he murmured, only slightly ashamed of the hurt evident in his voice. But she just shook her head and turned down the hall, leaving him to stare blankly after her.

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Stretching her mind out, Jean glanced up and down the hallway. It was four p.m. and she had managed to avoid both Scott and Duncan all day, opting to sit with Rachel and her friends form NHS rather tan endure a lunch hour with sullen X-men or gossipy cheerleaders. She'd even managed to catch a ride home with Lance and Kitty rather than either of the two men that irked her most. Neither she, nor Lance, were too pleaded about the arrangement, but jean wasn't about to pass up the opportunity, and Lance was all too willing to oblige to Kitty's request. So fifteen minutes and a headache's worth of heavy rock music later, Jean made it safely to her room, undetected.

She was just about to begin her calc. homework, when someone knocked cheerfully on her door. "Come in, Kitty."

"Hey, Jean," the freshman bounced in happily, "Can I borrow some lip liner? I accidentally left mine in the sun and it's totally melted. I'd ask Rogue, but, y'know, it'd probably be all black or purple or something, which is all right for some, but-" the girl shuddered.

"Go right ahead," Jean laughed, waving her to her vanity drawer, "Take your pick. Oh, by the way, thanks for the ride today. I hope Lance wasn't too mad about it."

"He'll get over it," Kitty waved her hand dismissively, scanning through a draw of brightly colored lipsticks. "Besides, you looked like you needed someone to rescue you."

Jean gave a wry smile, turning her eyes back to her worksheet, but her eyes continued scanning the same sentences, never comprehending it.

"What's wrong?" Kitty crossed the room and took a seat beside Jean on the bed.

"Nothing," Jean answered quickly, shuffling papers as she sat up.

"Yeah," Kitty murmured softly, "but nothing's right either, is it?"

Jean glanced to the side, silently appraising the girl. "When did you become so deep?"

"Oh, I've always been deep," Kitty scoffed, trying to hide her laughter, "I just use the ditzy cover-up so that the rest of you don't bombard me with pleas for advice."

Kitty spoke so sincerely that Jean couldn't help but laugh. Kitty was so pleased to see Jean out of her miserable state that she lapsed into giggles as well.

"Seriously, though," Kitty straightened her face, trying once again not to smile, "I'm here if you need to talk."

"Thanks, Kitty," Jean smiled, "I'll keep that in mind."

"No problem-o," she jumped off the bed, giving a short wave. "I'll see you later."

"Bye, Kitty," Jean whispered s her door gently shut. The soft click of the door's bolt sliding into place made Jean shudder, an overwhelming feeling of apprehension washing over her. Why did she suddenly feel as though a part of her life was ending?

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Groaning, Jean rolled over to consult her luminescent alarm clock. 12:04. She'd been trying to sleep for two hours now, using all the remedies she recalled from her childhood; reading until her eyes were too tired to move anymore, reciting all the state capitals in alphabetical order backwards, warm milk, yet sleep did not feel the need to grace her with its presence. Muttering incoherently, she rose to her feet and dressed in a thick pair of boots, black cargo pants, and a midnight blue hoody. Pulling the hood over her vibrant red hair, she crossed to her balcony window, surveying all possible ways of descending to the ground. She knew she could always use her telekinesis to lower herself, but she wanted to do this the "normal way". She wanted to escape into the night and forget that she was Jean Grey, second in command of the X-men, straight A student at Bayville high, MVP of the varsity soccer team, girlfriend of Duncan Matthews, and best friend of Scott Summers. Tonight she wanted to just be Jean, the seventeen-year-old on a verge of a mental break down, a typical teen filled with stress who wanted to run until she had no strength left in her legs, who just wanted to escape her life, if only for an hour or two.

Reaching out, she allowed her fingers to grasp the thick vines that had entwined themselves about the drainpipe. Using each new stem of the vine as rungs of a ladder, she carefully climbed down the wall, every now and then using the drainpipe for support. The soft squelch of her boots against the damp grass sent satisfying shivers up her spine, for the first time in her life she felt as though she'd truly accomplished something worth celebrating. A small smirk curled about her lips, if only the Institute could see her now. Good little Jean Grey had successfully snuck out, and she was relishing her new freedom. Why haven't I ever tried this before?

Crossing to the garage, she deftly dialed the code that allowed her access to the Institutes many vehicles. Her eyes trailed across the choices before her. X-van? Too bulky. Scott's car? Too conspicuous. Jamie's bike? Not likely. Logan's motorcycle? She didn't have a death wish. Finally her eyes landed on a small motorbike in the corner, tucked neatly between discarded bicycles and old security systems. It was one of Logan's older motorcycles, one that he'd eventually out grown and discarded when he purchased his new red one. (A/N: I'm having a mental block and can't remember which motorcycle came first, red or blue, so I'm just going to assume it was the blue.) He still wouldn't be too happy with her if she took out his old baby, but if she brought it back unscathed, would he even notice? Her fingers traced the deep blue chrome covering, fingering the corrugated groove where his claws had made contact with the bike. She could easily operate such a simple machine, and the fire in her veins made her body ache in anticipation. She needed to go now, before she lost all her nerve. Making up her mind, she swung her leg over the bike and gently revved the engine, praying that the sound wouldn't wake any of the Institute residents. Luckily for her, Logan had spent so much time tuning his bike that it purred softly beneath her touch. A determined glint flashing in her eyes, she stepped on the gas and sped off into the night.

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A/N: So, Jean may have been a bit out of character, but you have to understand she's not quite sure what to think of anything any more. She just needs to escape her life.

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DOJ