Champ
Jean was extremely relived that the school had not reverted back to they way they'd acted upon her original return. Instead, most of the students had been remarkably supportive, as if they'd already known about her alter ego.
On her part, Jean worked during her preps and through her Saturday mornings on gaining more and more control over her mutation. Sue, she was never angry and therefore had infinitely more control, but it was the practice she craved.
The downside was the resulting exhaustion.
She napped through Saturday afternoons and rarely stayed up past nine during the week. Sundays she marked and prepared. It was a self-imposed isolation. She didn't eat meals with anyone and the most contact she had with people was through her classes.
Logan, however, still haunted her thoughts.
It was a highly amusing cat-and-mouse game, really, pitting Jean's telepathy against Logan's enhanced sense of smell. She knew when he was coming and he knew when she was running. For Jean, the worst part came when she could feel his hurt.
In all honesty, she was surprised at how acutely she heard his thoughts these days, his emotions overwhelming hers sometimes. It had never happened before and there was no solid reason for it to happen now either. However, she eventually figured he'd given up on her.
Therefore, it was almost a surprise to find a new Care Bear on her desk one morning in June.
Champ's real message is sportsmanship, but that just doesn't seem to fit for you. I know you've been working hard on that control so let's say Champ is for overcoming fears and embracing who you are, the good and the bad.
Logan
Jean sat on the roof that night, in her favourite pair of pyjama shorts and a t-shirt, up late for the first night in a long time. She hadn't practiced at all that day and found she wasn't all that concerned about it. When Logan ventured up to her place, for the first time she didn't move.
"Evenin' Red," he said carefully.
"Hi Logan," she responded softly, not looking at him. They sat in silence for a while, comfortable to be in one another's presence for a while after being so long without.
"Seen Phoenix lately?" Logan asked finally.
Jean smiled. "Not since I started exercising," she answered truthfully.
"Progress."
She nodded. "Yeah."
"You don't sound enthusiastic."
Jean shrugged. "I don't know what to think," she began and Logan could smell fear in her blood. "Yeah, I'm excited about not seeing Phoenix, but I have questions too. Not to mention the fact that my isolation means that I haven't been exposed to outside stresses. What happens when I stop avoiding everyone and try to go back?"
"You're afraid of Phoenix popping out again."
"Of course I am."
"But we got her under control the first time."
"But I don't want there to be a 'next time'," Jean protested. Logan didn't respond.
"I'm sorry," she said after a while, her gaze out on the darkened grounds.
"I get it," he waved her off, but she knew and could feel his lack of understanding.
"I didn't want to risk seeing other people because I was tired and cranky," she tried to explain.
"You're terrified of it," he growled softly.
"Shouldn't I be?"
"Jeannie, Phoenix is part of you. Its like bein' afraid of who you are."
"Are you?" she asked, her tortured and pain-filled gaze finally meeting his.
"Not as much as I could be," he revealed.
"Why?" The question came out frustrated and harsh.
"I can't hate myself forever." They dropped into silence again. She shuddered as his thoughts jumbled with hers and his presence calmed and relaxed her mind and body.
"Cold?" he inquired softly.
"I can hear you think," she whispered in answer.
"What?" He unconsciously moved his body away from her slightly.
"It's how I've been avoiding you," she told him. "I can hear you louder than anyone else." She sensed his confusion and fear, but also his curiosity.
"How?"
She shrugged. "I don't know any better than you."
"Have you talked to the professor about it?"
She sighed in heavy frustration. "Why does everyone insist I go to Xavier?"
"Hey," he tried to soothe, "I didn't mean it like that."
"I'm sorry," she said, dropping her face into her knees.
"A lot of us don't understand your telepathy, just like we are around another mutant's power in general. The professor on the other hand…"
"I don't know if I've forgiven him… If I can forgive him."
He raised an eyebrow. "You're angry?"
"Don't I have the right to be?" Then after a heartbeat, "I don't know."
"Is it worth locking him out for?"
Suddenly, Jean smiled. "When did you become all insightful?"
Logan shrugged, not really sure himself. His speech to the professor about Jean's abilities, his conversation with her about alter egos and animals and now this… It surprised him as much as it did her.
"It's nice," she whispered, her eyes focused across the grounds again.
"Yeah well…" He shrugged again, feeling his cheeks heat up in embarrassment. She giggled quietly.
"Did I make the great Wolverine blush?" she asked rhetorically, a real smile stretching her lips as she turned her head to him. Giving into the urge, he gently ran the back of his hand over her cheek. Her eyes brightened with the touch, reflecting the moonlight. He leaned towards her and for a second, she thought he was going to kiss her. Instead, his cheek brushed against hers.
"We'll keep it our secret," he whispered, his hot breath caressing her ear and fanning down her neck. She closed her eyes and suppressed a shiver. It was the first honest-to-God move he'd made since she got back. He pulled away from her, lying on his back and looking up at the stars.
"I missed you," she admitted finally. "This past while, I mean."
"Then tell me, why the avoidance tactics?"
"It seems stupid," she warned. "I didn't want people continuously harassing me about how I was doing or feeling."
"How many times were you alone?" he pointed out without malice.
She smiled softly. "I know you wanted to talk, Logan, but I wasn't sure I was ready." She could feel his confusion as clear as a sunny day. What she said hadn't made sense, but she really didn't want to clarify it.
"I didn't train today," she confided. "I couldn't."
"A lotta negatives've found their way into your vocabulary, you know," he countered. The comment had come from left field and Jean's brow knit in confusion.
"Huh?"
"Can't, won't, couldn't, wouldn't," he listed off. "There weren't many of those before."
"I found the world has limits," she shot sullenly.
He shrugged. "Helluva role reversal we've got goin' on here too, Red."
"What the hell is that supposed to mean?"
"Look at us. Here I am bein' brotherly, nice with all the confidante stuff and you don't know which way's up and which way's down."
"Logan…" she growled.
"You're lost, Jean, confused, like I was three years ago. I've found home." For a reason she couldn't pinpoint, especially with her churning brain, hope uncurled in her heart.
"Home?"
Logan shrugged. "Seems like it. Can't find it in me to leave this place."
"It's special," she agreed.
"Never thought I'd bee thankin' Scooter, you know, but he 'n Storm are the reasons I'm here."
"But why did you stay?"
He met her gaze squarely, his hand under her chin. "You know why I stayed."
"But you stayed after I was gone," she pointed out smartly.
"Rogue was still here. Someone had to keep an eye on her." A smile blossomed over Jean's face, a genuine smile that warmed her insides as much as his. Suddenly, her mouth opened in a wide yawn. She slapped her hand over it in embarrassment.
"I think we should head in," he suggested, standing and offering his hand. She took the offering and he pulled her up. They made their way inside as quietly as possible, saying a brief good night before heading to their own rooms.
Jean bolted awake later that night from one of the worst nightmares of her life. It was as clear as crystal in her mind, as if it had actually occurred and she couldn't stop it.
She'd killed Logan.
Tears sprang to her eyes as she leapt from her bed and raced through the corridors to Logan's door. Her rational mind was screaming at her to get her act together and go back to bed.
I want to make sure he's alive.
She opened the door as quietly as she could, for his neighbours more so than for Logan. He slept lightly and shot up as his senses caught wind of her.
"Jeannie?" he whispered.
"Yeah," she replied softly. She moved inside and closed the door but leaned against the hard support of the wood.
"What happened?" he asked.
"Nightmare," she responded with ease. "Just wanted to make sure it wasn't real." He nodded but neither of them made a move to alter where they were situated.
"Did you want to talk about it?" Logan asked finally, shifting so he could lean against his bed's headboard. He saw her eyes close, his having adjusted to the darkness quickly, and could smell the salt of the tears. Still, she didn't move. Finally, she shook her head.
"It was just a dream. It wasn't real." It sounded like she was trying to convince herself just as much as him. He sighed.
"Come here," he encouraged, patting the spot beside him on the mattress. She hesitated, but gave in, climbing in to sit beside him. He arranged her stiff body against his until they both shared the same pillow, his arms attempting to brush the tension from her back.
"Who did you kill?" Jean shot upright at his whispered words, staring down at him with surprised and terrified eyes.
"What?"
"You're nightmare," he clarified, his eyes shining in understanding.
"Logan, I don't want to talk about it," she said stubbornly, moving to get out of the bed.
"The first time is the worst," he told her softly. She was surprised by the vulnerability in his voice for a few minutes. It had stopped her cold where she sat, facing away from him.
"The first time?"
"The first time the nightmares come, when you can't figure out if they're real or not," he answered. It dawned on her that he'd probably experienced the same thing.
"Do they go away?" she asked, after a thoughtful silence.
"For a while," he said honestly. "Sometimes they come back."
"Worse?"
He shrugged. "Eventually, that blurred line between your dream and reality starts to get clearer and the dreams don't scare you as much."
"Is that a polite way of saying I'll get used to it?" she asked, and he could hear the slight amusement in her voice.
"Probably," he admitted, but he knew her pulse had settled and the fear he'd been able to smell on her when she first entered his room had faded.
"Logan," she said finally.
"Jean."
She took a deep breath, preparing herself. "Can I stay here with you?"
"Of course."
"Will you hold me?" she whispered, settling beside him. His arms immediately curled around her body, pulling her snugly against the hard wall of his chest. Logan was sure she'd drifted off the next time she spoke.
"You," she breathed and the fear was back in her voice.
"Pardon?"
She swallowed. "I killed you." He pulled her face into his neck and she grabbed the edges of the white undershirt he was wearing. Finally, she let herself go, sobbing until she thought she'd choke. Eventually, since the adrenaline had worn off and she cried herself out, she drifted off to sleep, feeling safe in Logan's arms.
Okay, I'm sure in the original version, I had an author's note here explaining away the unexplanable, but I don't remember what it was and I deleted the original before uploading this one, so I have no clue what it was. Quite obviously, it wasn't that important. I found typos in the original I wanted to correct before posting it...
I'm hoping to have the next chapter up by the end of the week, give or take. Probably Sunday at the latest I'm hoping.
8 chapters left.
