Chapter 6
Everybody was worried about Jean. Since her telekinesis manifested, she had withdrawn completely from life in the Institute. In her lessons she kept her gaze downcast, not speaking unless asked a direct question; otherwise she was in her bedroom, or the library, avoiding the rest of the mansion's inhabitants. She had been observed, on more than one occasion, sitting in one of the library's overstuffed chairs staring unseeing at the cold ash in the fireplace for hours. She had to be coaxed down to the dining room for meals, and spent more time pushing her food around on the plate than actually eating. None of her disturbing behavior went unnoticed.
"What can we do to help her?" Henry asked. The instructors were assembled in Professor Xavier's study on a bone-chilling and rainy autumn afternoon, discussing the well-being of their only student.
"The development of her second mutation has caused her great stress. She's suffering from depression," Charles stated, not telling them anything they hadn't already deduced.
"There must be something we can do, Charles," Ororo said, obviously unsettled.
Logan paced the length of the room, growling softly to himself. "It ain't right," he announced simply. "She's just a kid. She shouldn't have to deal with any of this shit."
Charles sighed. "In a perfect world, Logan, none of us would be compelled to feel badly about who or what we are."
"She's 11 years old!" Logan snarled. "She's 11 years old, and I can smell the sadness on her. I can smell how much she hates herself. I can smell how scared she is of what she's capable of. Kids shouldn't feel that way about themselves!"
"I am very much aware of this," Charles said shortly. "In case you have forgotten, Logan, I am a telepath. I am perfectly aware of how distressed she is."
"Then why the hell aren't we doin' anythin' to help her?" Logan shouted in frustration.
"We are, but it's obviously not enough," Xavier admitted. "I had believed that she would eventually come to terms with her mutation, that we would be able to teach her to be proud of her gifts, of who she is. We obviously need to do much more."
Logan spun on his heel and stomped out of the room, muttering, "No shit" under his breath. He slammed the door shut behind him.
"He still blames himself for her telekinesis manifesting as it did," Ororo observed, staring at the closed door.
"He shouldn't, but yes, he does," Xavier agreed.
"So what can we do for Jean?" Hank asked again. "She can't go on as she has been. She's a ghost child."
"She must know that we care about her, not about what she can do," Charles told them. "We must all take it upon ourselves to make her feel loved and accepted."
*****
Several days after that meeting, Logan stalked through the halls of the Institute, searching for Jean. Charles and Hank had gone to a conference in New Orleans the day before, and Ororo had left to visit her sister's family to celebrate her nephew's birthday, leaving only Logan to watch over Jean. He couldn't believe he'd already managed to lose her. He'd checked the library and her room, and both were empty. He tried to catch her scent, but it was faint, indicating that she wasn't in the building; glancing towards the windows, he saw that the part-slush-part-rain that had plagued them for the better part of a week continued to pelt against the glass. He frowned.
Naw, she wouldn't've gone out in this weather, he thought to himself, quickly dismissing the idea as ludicrous. He continued downstairs and through the kitchen, noticing that Jean's jacket still hung by the back door. He smiled in relief, but then noticed the new pattern of raindrops almost dry on the floor by the door. Flamin' hell, Jeannie, what are ya doin'? he asked silently before grabbing his leather coat and heading outside in search of the girl.
He wandered the grounds for a few minutes before he caught her scent. "Of course," he muttered and headed down towards the lake. His breath puffed in front of his face as we walked, and he rubbed his hands together to keep them warm. His step faltered when she came into sight; she was standing waist-deep in the lake, taking tentative steps forward. The dark water was slowly rising higher and higher.
"What the hell...?" he asked aloud. Fear shot through his body and he broke into a run, suddenly realizing exactly what Jean was trying to do. He watched in horror as she continued to walk; suddenly she stumbled and disappeared beneath the black water.
"Jean!" he screamed, tearing off his jacket as he sprinted towards the lake. He saw her head pop up and could see her gasp for breath. "Hang on, kid!" he called to her, watching her flail weakly. He dove into the water, his breath catching in his chest as the intense cold hit him like a physical blow. He surfaced and looked around for her. She'd gone under again. Taking a deep breath, he plunged back under and searched the murky waters. A flash of red caught his eye and he swam for it. She was struggling, trying to make her numb limbs carry her to the surface.
With a burst of adrenaline, Logan closed the distance between them and grabbed her hand. Holding on for all he was worth, he propelled them both towards the surface. They emerged, sputtering and coughing, and Logan dragged them towards the shore. Once safely on land, Jean collapsed to her knees; her lips were purple, her skin had a bluish hue, and her eyes were glazed. She wasn't shivering, even though she was icy to the touch. Hypothermia, he thought.
"Jean? Jean, answer me. Are ya ok?" Logan demanded, kneeling in front of her and forcing her face upwards to meet his gaze. She looked at him blankly, blinking slowly. "Jean, snap out of it!" he shouted, shaking her slightly, fear as he'd never known it consuming him. Without another thought, he scooped her up in his arms and ran back to the mansion, intent on getting her warmed up.
They burst through the door and Logan considered his options. He could take her down to the med lab, but he didn't know what was there that would help. Instead he climbed the stairs two at a time and entered Jean's room. He sat her on the edge of her bed and went into her en-suite bathroom and started filling the tub with warm water. He left the tap running, and returned to the other room. Jean hadn't moved an inch while he was gone. He knelt in front of her and forced her to look at him.
"Jean, listen to me," he pleaded. "We need to get you outta those clothes, ok? I'm sorry, kid, but I don't have a choice. Can ya help me?"
She didn't respond to him, and he sighed resignedly before beginning to remove her icy clothes. She was completely unresponsive, and it made the task even more difficult. Finally he was done, and he lifted her, wearing only her cotton panties, and carried her into the bathroom. The tub was full and the water steaming -- he tested it to make sure it wasn't too hot before lowering her into it. She whimpered slightly at the first contact, and he knew how hot the water would feel to her frozen skin.
"Sorry, darlin', but we have to get ya warmed up," he apologized, completely submerging her in the water. Her body stiffened even more and he saw a flash of awareness cross her face, but it quickly disappeared. Logan perched on the edge of the tub and used one hand to swirl the water around her, the other cupping the back of her head so her face wouldn't sink below the surface. After more than 15 minutes the water had begun to cool, so Logan pulled the plug and began refilling the tub. He nearly wept in relief when she started shivering, knowing that was a good sign. Logan kept her in the bath for another half-hour, until the shivering became almost violent as her body tried to warm itself.
"That's it, Jeannie, come on back," he muttered as he wrapped her in a large towel and carried her back to her room. Keeping the towel around her, he peeled off her panties to keep her dry, and dug through her dresser drawers until he found a long-sleeved flannel nightgown and a pair of big fluffy socks. He covered her feet easily, and when he struggled to get the nightie over her head, and she voluntarily raised her arms a little, though very weakly.
Logan smiled at her. "Hey, kid. Yer gonna be ok. Let's get ya under those blankets and all warmed up. Sound good?"
She looked up at him, her eyes still cloudy, and nodded. Still shivering uncontrollably, she let Logan help her over to her bed and tuck the duvet tightly around her.
"I'll be right back. I'm just gonna go get some more blankets," he told her and slipped out of the room.
By the time he'd returned, having quickly changed out of his own sodden clothing, she was curled up in the fetal position, trying desperately to warm up. The shivering had not subsided. "Here ya go, darlin'," he said as he piled several more blankets on top of her.
"Th-th-th-thanks," she murmured through fiercely chattering teeth. Logan regarded her for a moment, then climbed up onto the bed and curled around her to add his own body heat. He wrapped his arms tightly around her and pulled her back against his chest. They stayed that way for several long hours, both of them eventually drifting off to sleep.
When Logan awoke, Jean had stopped shivering, and she appeared to be sleeping peacefully. He carefully untangled himself from Jean and the covers, and slipped downstairs to make them something to eat. Jean was still asleep when he came back, and he gently shook her awake. Bleary green eyes met his, and he smiled. "Brought ya somethin' to eat."
"Not hungry," she mumbled and closed her eyes again.
Logan frowned. "I don't care if yer hungry or not, Red, ya need to eat."
She ignored him until he pulled the blankets down from her upper body. "Hey!" she whined in protest.
Logan crossed his arms across his chest and glared at her. "Eat," he ordered, motioning at the tray on her bedside table. "And then we're gonna talk."
She shot him a nervous glance, then pushed herself into a sitting position and placed the try across her lap. The soup and grilled cheese sandwich disappeared quickly, to Logan's approval. When she'd finished, she placed the try back on the table and made to lie back down.
"Whaddya think yer doin'? We're gonna talk about what happened," Logan told her, sitting beside her on the bed, his back against the headboard.
Jean turned her head away, refusing to look at him. He sighed, knowing that avoidance was Jean's most commonly used defense mechanism.
"I'm not goin' anywhere until ya tell me what the hell you were thinking with that stunt, so ya might as well talk."
Jean stubbornly ignored him and Logan growled softly. "Jeannie," he said in a warning tone. "I want to know why you did it," he told her softly. "Why were ya tryin' to...y'know..."
"Kill myself?" she finished for him, her tone bitter.
Logan swallowed hard hearing her say those words. "Yeah."
"I dunno. I wasn't really going to, y'know. I don't think so, anyway."
"Fine then. Why were ya even thinkin' about it?"
She shrugged and looked down at the covers. "I'm a freak. I'm dangerous."
With a sigh, Logan slipped an arm around her shoulders and pulled her against his chest. "Yer not dangerous, and yer not a freak, Jean. Yer just a little girl who happens to be a mutant."
"Same thing," she said quietly. "I hate what I am."
His heart broke and he floundered, trying desperately to come up with the right things to say. He was terrified of what might happen to her if he didn't start to fix things here and now. "Aw, darlin', don't think like that. There's no reason to hate being a mutant. Listen to Professor X -- you've got gifts, and ya should be proud of that. Yer special, Jeannie, yer not a freak."
She was silent, but shook her head.
"There're a lot of people who care about ya, y'know."
She snorted in disbelief.
"All of us here care about ya. Yer parents --"
"My parents got rid of me as soon as they found out what I was," she said angrily, and the knick-knacks on her dresser rattled ominously. "They call me once a week, and they can hardly stand talking to me. They hate me."
"That's not true. Charles told me how hard it was fer yer parents to send you here. They knew that the Professor would be able to help ya -- they couldn't."
She closed her eyes for a moment and focused her telekinesis before things became air born.
"And see? You've got a handle on the TK-thing. Yer not dangerous, Jeannie. Ya just need to learn how to use yer gifts. D'you know how many people would kill to be able to do what you can?"
Jean glanced up at him, cocking an eyebrow skeptically.
"It's true. There are tons of people who would love to be telekinetic, or to be able to read minds. They're pretty cool powers," he told her.
She chewed on that for a moment. "You really think so?"
"No, I know so," he told her with a toothy grin. "Just think of all the stuff ya could do with it -- clean yer room without moving off the bed, lift heavy shi--er stuff," he faltered on purpose, and Jean let a giggle slip, "hell, I bet ya could even learn to levitate yerself."
Jean's eyes lit up at that. "Really? You mean, I could kind of fly?"
He shrugged. "Why not? If ya can lift other things, why not yerself? Why, y'think that'd be cool or somethin'?"
Jean nodded. "I could fly just like Ororo."
Logan smiled, knowing how Jean looked up to the other woman; she had once confided in him that wanted to be just like Ororo when she grew up.
"So, see? Ya really are a special kid, Jean. Never question it, ok?"
Jean smiled, but it quickly faded. "Um, you're not...you don't have to tell the Professor or anyone about today, do you?"
Logan thought about that for a moment, and he could see the trepidation on her face. "I should," he admitted. "But I won't. As long as ya can promise me ya won't ever pull a stunt like that again, and that you'll talk to me -- or 'Ro, or Hank, or Charles -- whenever ya get to feelin' bad."
She nodded enthusiastically. "I promise." Then she threw her arms around him and hugged him fiercely. "Thank you."
He hugged her back, and murmured, "Yer welcome, darlin'."
Logan knew she wasn't 100% convinced, but he had the impression that he had made some headway with her. Now, if they could all just work together to cement these ideas and make her truly believed them, he was confident she'd be fine.
~~
Coming soon, Chapter 7
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