Bedtime
A week passed and Jean's life slipped into a more regular routine. She woke early, just at the start of classes, and allowed herself to wander out into the garden for an early morning walk. She ate breakfast alone – the odd time, Logan or the professor would wander in and join her – and was again off to her lab.
The only problem was the exhaustion she was starting to feel because of the nightmares.
She fell asleep in spurts, never for long, then wake up sharply, eyes wide and mouth open to scream. The nightmares took numerous forms. Sometimes she relived her own death, sometimes someone else's.
She took to wandering the halls, making her way to the kitchen for warm milk or tea, anything to help her settle her mind and ease the stress that was racing through her system. She met Logan there one night, already drinking.
"Why are you up?" she asked him softly, not wanting to disturb his thoughts.
"Couldn't sleep," he replied, not taking his eyes from his beer bottle. "You?"
"Same." Then she scoffed. "What else is new?"
"Since you've been back?" She thought about his question for a moment. How long had she been having nightmares?
"Since I woke up," she answered finally, her eyes focused on a spot over his shoulder.
"Always the same?"
"No." Part of her couldn't understand why she was sharing any of this with him. She'd tried since she'd met him to push him away. Then she'd come back and he was one of the only ones who didn't look at her with fear and had no problem holding her gaze. The part of her that had pushed Logan away – to keep her comfortable relationship with Scott – now wanted his attention.
She wasn't sure how long she'd lost herself in her thoughts before a mug was in front of her, the steam and smell wafting up into her nose. Logan was re-seating himself at one of the island stools.
"It's not—"
"Earl Grey or Chamomile," he finished for her. She must have looked stunned because he was suddenly defending himself.
"The professor won't drink chamomile or coffee because of his telepathy and—" Jean had zoned out, bringing the steaming mug to her lips and taking a tentative sip.
"You remembered," she stated in soft awe. She'd always had tea, even years ago, but she never thought he'd remembered, or even noticed, how she took her tea. He shrugged.
"Thank you," she said.
"You seem to be sayin' that a lot lately," he pointed out. She gave him a mock chastising look over the rim of her cup.
"I was always taught to mind my manners," she replied. He chuckled.
"You implyin' somethin'?" She smiled into her mug but kept generally silent. Conversation flowed from there and Jean realized it felt good to have a regular conversation where she was treated equal. By the time she'd finished her tea and glanced at the clock, it was well into the early morning. Jean was awed at the way the time flew by.
"Look'it the time," Logan drawled, following her gaze. She gave him a small, sad smile as she stood, putting her mug back in the sink.
"You didn't have to stay up," she whispered. "You need the sleep."
"You'll be teaching soon," he promised her, moving to rest his hand on her back, between her shoulder blades. He felt the muscles tense, then relax with an expelled breath.
"Talk to me," he urged, allowing his hand to drift up and down her spine. She was quiet for a few moments, considering how much to say.
"You're the only person who's so much as brushed me since…" She didn't finish the sentence. Her head dropped forward, red hair – she hadn't cut it since coming back – concealing her face.
"And had a conversation with." What surprised her was the lack of pity she felt from him. Either he was excellent at hiding or he truly didn't pity her.
"Come on. I'll walk you upstairs."
She woke later than usual… way later. It was always early morning, the sun just peaking over the horizon, when she first opened her eyes. When she rolled over to look at her clock, it was creeping up on noon. She all but threw herself out of bed and tossed on a comfortable pair of pants and all but raced down for breakfast, already frazzled because of her thrown-off schedule.
She literally ran into Rogue on the way down to the lab. Both stumbled, Rogue into Bobby and Jean just plain backwards. They exchanged nervous greetings before Jean was off again, tears of frustration blurring her vision. She passed Scott, Ororo and the professor on the way down and when no one reached out she only ran faster, only stopping when she reached the safety of her sanctuary.
Thus, it was with a heavy heart and a troubled brain she took the back halls to her room. Her heart leapt into her throat at the blue bear at the head of the bed, leaning against her pillows, a piece of paper sitting on her stomach.
For you. Bedtime Bear is supposed to help with sleep.
Come and get me when you get in. I know you haven't eaten – Logan
Her heart jumped, pumping in excitement. She found herself already moving through the halls, Bedtime Bear clutched in her arms.
"I wondered how long you were gonna sequester yourself," he told her, opening the door wide enough to let her in. Jean smiled sheepishly and stepped inside, allowing Logan to fine a shirt, having answered the door without one.
"It's safe down there," she defended. Logan nodded sagely.
"Reality's up here," he told her gently, returning to the main bedroom. They made their way to the kitchen where they'd spent the previous night. Once she had a plate of half decent food in front of her, a thought raced through her head.
"How did you know I'd lock myself in the lab?" Sure, it was where she worked every day, but she was out by dinner.
"I talked to Bobby and Rogue." He was watching her carefully enough to see the tension in her body and silently congratulated himself for his brilliance in figuring out the catalyst to her apparent bad day.
"Well, they came to talk to me," he amended. "She was pretty upset."
"She was upset?" Jean asked incredulously.
"Yeah. Felt pretty guilty for makin' you cry," he replied. Jean relaxed slightly and shrugged.
"It wasn't her fault," she admitted finally. "I was a little over-emotional today." Logan watched her absently play with the ear of the bear she was still holding.
"You think Bedtime'll help tonight," he inquired, meaning to change the subject. She didn't answer, nor did she acknowledge the change.
"They ignored me," she said softly. Though Logan had a pretty good idea of whom she was talking about, he asked for clarification.
"They all saw my tears… the students, Ororo… even Scott and the professor and no one did anything." Her voice cracked at the end as her throat clogged in remembrance.
"I can partially understand the fear behind the student, but the others?" Her voice dropped to a pained whisper. "I grew up with them."
Logan didn't know what to do. Most of what she was talking about there wasn't a magic cure for. It was going to be a healing process, one that every one else seemed intent on dragging out slowly and painfully.
For the second night in a row, Logan watched Jean dissolve into tears and for the second night in a row locked up his anger – regardless of the fact that he was pretty sure she'd already felt it – and pulled her into his embrace. She sagged against him easily, Bedtime clutched in her hands. After a while her sobs calmed down. When Logan decided she'd finally stopped crying, her breathing had evened out. Jean was asleep.
As carefully as he could, Logan shifted her so one arm was under her knees, the other under her shoulders and carried her to her bed. When he settled her under her covers, he noticed the blue bear fall to the floor from where it had been crushed between his body and hers. With a small tender smile, he placed the bear next to her and left, softly closing the door behind him.
