Disclaimer: All the characters belong to Marvel Inc. and/or Twentieth Century Fox or whoever might claim to posses them.
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A/N: Okay… I didn't intend to write a second part, but it just… well, kinda happened. And I admit that I can't decide whether to write Erik Lehnsherr or Eric Lehnsherr; regarding his European origin it should be Erik Lehnsherr… oh to hell with it…
Sam
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A bead of sweat was slowly forming at her temple, then gliding down her smooth pale skin, over her cheeks until it rested for a second, wavering and slightly trembling, at her chin before it finished its way down the expanse of her swanlike throat vanishing under her shirt. It seemed to go completely unnoticed by her. Her eyes were looking completely transfixed into emptiness, focussing onto eternity and the now-moment at the same time, seeing everything and nothing at all.
He looked at her, staring at the fine features of her face, which had now begun to lose the innocent angelic appearance of childhood, just to gain a stunning ethereal beauty intoxicating and enchanting at the same time, surrounded by a mass of velvety auburn hair. He had tried not to see it, tried very hard simply to not see that she wasn't anymore the little girl he got to know years ago, that she wasn't anymore his little girl and since he couldn't turn back time, she would never be it again… and well, she had turned eighteen half a month ago… but it was time to admit it to himself: Jean Elisabeth Grey was grown up and she was unbelievably gorgeous in a way he had never thought possible when he first met the almost catatonic eleven year old girl who didn't speak, who didn't react, who didn't seem to take part at life at all. And now… she seemed to be life itself, filled with so much emotion and passion, incredibly beautiful and ebullient, visually extremely striking and glowing with a charismatic aura that drew all attention immediately to her. He saw the way the "boys" looked at her and he also saw the way she responded, how she smiled in this manner that sent the head of the young men spinning and made the other women around her envious. It seemed a bit like the smile of Mona Lisa, charming, enthralling and a bit mysterious and it made his heart ache, because it always reminded him of something he would, or better he could never get.
In the meantime the strain of the exercise had become clearly visible in her face, which now looked exceptionally pale, almost ill. Her concentration was wavering, her mind becoming open again when her telepathic shields faded away like flowers in the desert.
Jean, you need to concentrate.
He could feel instantly her shields snap up again when she complied to his slight rebuke, saw how much it did cost to re-establish them. Her skin even got a little paler, concentration drawing sharp edges into her normally smooth features; she looked almost like she was going to faint and her freckles seemed to burn against the white of her face.
After a relatively short time the shields again wavered and finally crumbled like a wrong constructed wall under a sudden gust of wind. Jean, concentrate. He reminded her again.
"I AM CONCENTRATING, DAMMIT!" For a brief second he had the impression to see her eyes blaze with flaring flames, her pupils completely alight with the inner fire burning in her. Her sudden outburst was accompanied by a strong telekinetic wave, knocking everything from his desk and out of the shelves at the wall, smashing vases and picture frames and even shoving him in his wheelchair some feet away. Her telekinetic power was encircling him, slightly prickling on his skin until it vanished almost as fast as it had arisen. The way her powers had developed had begun to worry him, because when she should consciously use them to move an object, such as a book it was a great effort for her, but then again, in those moments when she lost control and got carried away in the simple sensation of psionic power rushing through her body, or when emotions became overwhelming for her, her powers were disquietingly easy strong enough to wreck a whole room, endangering everybody and everything around her. Problem was, at times Jean had a very jumpy temper which tended to be highly explosive when it came to telekinetic manifestations of her emotional state.
He remembered clearly Erik's words from some time ago… he had been right of course, Jean had much more potential than anyone else of his X-Men, she had more potential than anyone would like to see. She just wouldn't allow herself to use it, to form it, to control it in the proper way, because she was simply underestimating her abilities, she didn't trust her psionic skills and she didn't trust herself. That was why she always had the impression to be behind the others, not to develop fast enough.
But she did. He knew it, he saw it; he could feel it and it downright scared him, woke him in the middle of the night his body covered in cold sweat. To underestimate Scott, Ororo, Hank, Warren, himself or the other mutants could be dangerous, to underestimate Jean was potentially deadly and this time it was her who chose not to see.
Her face displayed guilt and shame, her cheeks burned. "I'm so sorry… I didn't mean, I didn't want… I… I just…" She stammered, while she rushed around, picking all the things up her outburst had sent flying to the ground. That was what he feared most, that at some time in the future, maybe there wouldn't be anyone left to pick up the shattered pieces.
"You lost control." He finished her sentence, his voice soothing, caring. He was a bit worried about her because she was straining herself way too much while pressing matters.
Her head was lowered; her eyes avoiding meeting his glance, her movements had stopped as if she simply lost track of her actions. "Yeah…" her voice was low, almost inaudible. "I lost control."
"Jean, it's okay. Sometimes it just happens."
"But it shouldn't! And nothing's okay! I'm working so damn hard to control this bloody powers but it just won't work!" Frustration was tinting her voice, and he could again feel her telekinetic powers filling the air around them, making it seemingly thick with energy.
He interrupted her, preventing a flow of curses which would have made even a sailor blush and maybe another telekinetic outburst. "Language."
She was kneeling in front ob him, staying completely immobilized. "Sorry Professor, I was just… frustrated." Jean admitted like caught inflagranti delicto, the gaze of her greenish brown eyes averted. "Why couldn't you just block it again, like you did when I was a child?"
To be true he had pondered this possibility too, but with complete different and more or less selfish motives in his head. Yes, why didn't he just block her telepathy, making her his little oh so dependant girl again? The answer was simple and not so much founded on his ethics and morals as he had liked it but on a quite obvious fact: Jean wasn't a girl anymore and he feared he would make things worse, cause her even more instability and probably even make her powers errant. And well, though he would never admit that to anyone, he was quite certain that she herself was now so strong, though she tried so very hard not to see it, he just wouldn't be able to do it. She was stronger than him, and she didn't even have the half of the control he had over his powers; this thought really frightened him now and then when he experienced what she was able to do while her powers were consuming her.
"Jean, you're not a child anymore. And you know how essential it is for you to gain more control over your powers, before they probably begin to overwhelm you again."
He could see her jaw working, muscles at her throat and along her jaw-line clenching when she gulped. "I know…" She whispered, afraid of the possibility he had implied. Her biggest fear was to get overwhelmed by all the voices again, to get lost in them like she did when she was a child, nearly completely disintegrating herself in all those memories and thoughts which didn't belong to her.
"No need to worry, Jean." Instinctively he patted her shoulder, giving her a comforting squeeze. "You're making a great job, though there are still some problems we have to take care of, but you know, that's why I am here, to help you." He could see that she forced a smile at her lips, pretending her inner fears, which she didn't confide to anybody, weren't existent anymore. She always did this, shoving away her fears, squashing them to pieces and pushing those to the darkest pits of her mind, burying them under her cheerful appearance because they didn't fit her claim to be perfect, to please everybody; another trait that sometimes worried him a bit. Pretence was the first thing a telepath had to learn, to pretend to not know, to not see, to not hear and to not witness, though you did know, you did see, you did hear and you witnessed; Jean had learned her lesson very well, like she always did his precious model-pupil. "And I think for now, we should call it a day. Take some rest, Jean and don't stress yourself so much."
"I will." He knew she wouldn't; school was stressing her, as well as her training with the team, her lessons with him and not to forget her relationship with Scott, but he had no choice than to accept her answer. She stood up, setting all the things she had picked up on his desk again, before she bent over to him and placed a soft kiss on his forehead; he felt her breath tickling on his skin. "Thank you." She whispered, her lips brushing slightly his skin while she spoke, before she straightened again to her full impressing height, taking a step back. "And I'll take care of all the fragments." She pointed to the nondescript mass of broken glass that had once been a vase. Her hand rested outstretched, directed to the pieces, concentration again clearly visible on her face and then the pieces began to float in the air, wandering to the dustbin in the corner.
When she finally exited the room he could see Scott already waiting for her in the hallway; he always did, because he was so concerned about her, knowing very well that she didn't know when she had enough, when it was time for her to slow down, allow herself a little rest. The young man walked up to her, hugged her and gave her a short, but significant lovingly kiss. "You okay? You look so exhausted." He stroked with his thumb over her still pale cheeks, looking lightly anxious.
Again this forced smile appeared on her lips, though Scott didn't know her well enough to recognize it as such. "Yeah, everything's fine." She assured the young man, kissing him again to underline her answer and again pretending she didn't feel the sharp sting of jealousy coming from him, when her lips met the ones of her comrade. Before she closed telekinetically the door she took a short glance back to him where he sat in his wheelchair behind his desk, her thoughts this time perfectly shielded from him, but her eyes expressing some kind of guilt and remorse he couldn't decipher and interpret.
Finally he sighed into the silence of his bureau, feeling his heart ache when he thought about the young couple which was so dear to him. Yes Erik had been right, he desired her with some dark part of his being, but he loved both, Scott and Jean. In the end, it didn't matter what he felt towards her, because it would not only be scandalous, but completely wrong to act in this respect. So in the end everything would go on as usual. Everybody would pretend he just didn't know.
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Pre-thank to all reviewers!