Disclaimer: I don't own X-Men Evolution or its characters. Big surprise, huh?

AN: Well, I decided to give it a go as a multi-chapter affair. I'm tough, I think I can handle it...maybe.

When Scott said they got up early at the Institute he wasn't kidding. After a week Jean was still trying to get used to the early training sessions. Five thirty was a little early for her brain, if not her body. She forced herself to get out of bed and ready herself for a vigorous workout.

Jean dug around in her dresser for a T-shirt and shorts. Scott had made a passing comment about uniforms the other day, but she hadn't followed up on the matter. Jean threw her hair up into a ponytail, pulled on a pair of socks and slipped her feet into a pair of trainers. A glance at the clock told Jean she didn't have time to brush her teeth. She breathed into her hand and took a whiff. Morning breath, but not too bad; she'd just have to avoid breathing in Scott's face, which shouldn't be that hard.

Scott was actually waiting for her in the hallway, similarly dressed, although it appeared he had opted out of brushing his hair, that or he had run out of time. " 'Morning", he greeted.

" 'Morning," she replied, following him down the hall. She really had no idea what it was that possessed him to do that, wait for her so they could walk down together. It wasn't that he thought she would get lost. It was just one of those things that made him so...him. "Any idea what we're in for today?"

"Not a clue," he replied.

"What they were "in for" was a run. Jean had to keep herself from laughing when the Professor told them that. He personally had probably not run in...maybe forever, and here he was telling them to do what he couldn't. Truthfully, she didn't always see the point in these training sessions. Apparently the Professor believed that discipline of the body somehow equated to discipline of the mind. Most of the time Ms. Monroe handled the sessions, often opting for a light jog followed by yoga or Tai Chi rather than push-ups and a hard run, but she was gone. Professor Xavier claimed he was preparing them for the friend Ms. Monroe would be bringing back, who would be taking over their training.

Jean secretly wondered when the Professor was really going to address her little telekinesis problem (she was still making vases shake and papers fly). That's what he called her ability to move things with her mind: telekinesis. The Professor never called it a "problem" though; it was a "gift".

"Ready," Scott asked, doing a little jog in place.

"Yeah," she replied, and they headed off.

"Up before the sun," Jean joked, noticing the skyline was still a bright pink.

"Nah, the sun pulls an all nighter on the other side of the world and drinks a cup of coffee to stay awake for the next day."

Jean laughed but didn't say anything else, knowing she would have to save her breath to make it through the run. Sure, she was a soccer player, but the most talking she did on the field was a quick "Open" or "Behind you". The lung capacity needed to jog and carry on a conversation was something she just didn't have.

Their path wound through Bayville, past homes and businesses. Jean took note of the ice cream store's location as well as the high school. Scott had extended invitations for a tour of the town multiple times since her arrival but she had declined each and every one. It was part of her mental battle not to get attached. The more it all became a part of her life, the harder it would be to leave come fall.

And Jean wanted to go home more than anything. She wanted to see her sister; wanted to take the dog for a walk. She missed her room, her house, her family...missed James Blake, the cutest boy in school. Not that they were dating or anything, but he had invited her to a party he was throwing in July. Not wanting to kid herself Jean had called to decline earlier in the week. He wouldn't want to date her anyways. Not anymore. She had told him her family was taking a weeklong trip to New York. If he knew the real reason he'd never speak to her again. He'd probably tell her she should date other freaks.

Jean didn't know a lot of freaks like her. Well, there was Scott, but he wasn't really a freak. Sure, he had to wear those goofy glasses but so did plenty of people who couldn't read the chalkboard at school. She supposed it wasn't the same thing exactly; other people didn't have to worry about optic blasts making holes in roofs. Jean took a side-glance at her running partner. He was still keeping a good pace and...was a little bit ahead of her! He had obviously taken a run through Bayville more than this once. Jean picked up her pace to catch up with him and settled back into her stride. Scott just laughed.

They returned to the Institute tired, sweaty, and hungry just as the early summer heat had begun to set in, the sun planted in a blue sky. Jean opted to stave her hunger first. No matter how sticky and dirty she felt after that run her stomach had decided to push it's way to the top of her priority list. Scott on the other hand ran straight upstairs towards the bathroom.

Jean was just finishing her cornflakes when Scott came back downstairs, rubbing a towel against his still wet hair. "Man, you're either a slow eater or I take super speedy showers," he prodded.

"I...didn't know what to eat," Jean replied. It was true. A mansion like this with just about anything she could hope to eat and she found herself unintrigued by any and all food despite her growling stomach. The cornflakes had seemed like the compromise of the year.

"So you ate a bowl of cornflakes?"

"Cornflakes are alright," she defended. "They're high in fiber and low in sugar...they taste like...corn..."

"With that stunning review I guess I'll have the same," he replied, grabbing a bowl for himself. "So, I was thinking," he said as he poured the flakes and milk, "it's supposed to be really nice out today and I was thinking maybe you might want to go swimming. I mean, it wouldn't cost anything because the Prof has his own private pool."

Jean slowly lifted her last spoonful of soggy cornflakes to her mouth and chewed, trying to think of a lie. It wasn't that she didn't like to swim, because she really enjoyed swimming. It all came back to the issue of getting attached. If she spent more time with this boy she might actually end up liking him. Not like as in enjoyed spending time with him, she already thought he was a nice guy, but like like, as in "want to date him" like. She didn't think she could handle that. She didn't want to like like someone when she would be going back to her hometown in the fall. She didn't want to turn Scott Summers into a penpal whom she happened to find attractive. "Um," she finally replied, "I don't have my bathing suit. Didn't pack one and Mom must have forgotten to put one in the last package she sent." Truth of the matter was she had a green bikini in her underwear drawer upstairs.

"Alright," he nodded, "Well, in that case maybe you'd want to go bowling or see a movie...I think they've got laser tag at the arcade."

"Well...just because I don't have a suit doesn't mean you can't go swimming," Jean told him.

He shrugged. "I've done my fair share of swimming already in that pool. It won't kill me to wait for your suit to get sent. It's the beginning of a beautiful day, we should go out and do something."

Jean didn't know what to say except "Uh, let me go take a shower first and then we'll talk about it."

"Alright," he smiled and, as though left void of any free will, she smiled back.