Sorry this took so long, school has taken over my life again. I realize the flow of plot is not entirely logical, but figured it didn't matter so much for this fic – and least I got it written, in the end. I am still working on the final part of this and the twelfth chapter of Powerless! You might also want to check out Your Peace, which is bleak for a while too, but not devastating like this is turning into (whatever happened to me!?). That said...

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Ask not for pity from Dark Phoenix, my love. There is none in her.

--Uncanny X-Men 135

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And so here you are.

With every moment that passes you're more in tune with the world. You know from the cool, sterile air and quiet purring of familiar machinery that you're in the infirmary, but more than that, you can feel it, you know what it is.

They brought you in, changed you out of the suit for who-knows-what-reason, hooked you up to a couple of things, and then they left when they grew tired of waiting for something to happen. Only Logan's left now, and you can hear his heart pounding, feel the tightness in his jaw.

He squeezes your hand gently. Sighs. And then says, quietly, "Jean, stop pretending."

You're still suppressing the device that's measuring your pulse, among others. It hums contentedly.

"Jean, if you can hear me, say something."

No.

"Please." He swallows. "Jean, we can fix it. We can make it like it was..."

"I don't want to fix it!"

You've opened your eyes and released your hold on the machines. Out of the corner of your vision, the flat lines on a display screen spike and jump.

Logan reacts in the same way. "Jean!?"

Behind him, you see Scott lying motionless on a bed like yours. Still asleep.

You're sitting up slowly, with a coquettish smile on your lips. "Hey, Logan."

He frowns, wary.

"Remember when we first met?" you say, amused. "I was in your place and you were in mine..."

"Dammit, Jean, stop playing games," he cuts in. "Something happened back at the lake. I can smell you all over Scott. You shouldn't even be alive right now."

"Oh, but I am." You touch the side of his face, and he shudders.

"Jean... this isn't you."

"Yes, it is," you whisper, and draw him up against you, pressing your lips to his. He groans but only leans in closer, deepening the kiss. His hands encircle your waist, slipping beneath the fabric of your top, and you pull back slowly until he's directly on top of you, skin grinding on skin.

The stimulus flushes the last awkward questions from Logan's mind, his doubts consumed by a lust like wildfire. You're beginning to lose yourself beneath his touch – like I wanted from the beginning – when he's suddenly pulled roughly away.

Scott. Glasses in place, though askew. Breathing raggedly.

"Logan," Scott spits. "You take your hands off her. I swear I'll kill-"

It happens so quickly that the thought of doing it doesn't even flicker across his mind; his instincts are purely animal – an animal protecting its territory.

Snikt.

"...you." The word dies on Scott's lips. He chokes, blood foaming out of his mouth.

Snikt. Wolverine retracts his claws. Scott pitches foreword, cracking his head on the shiny metal tiles.

Oh, God... you never saw it coming. You can't predict what he'll do next, unlike everyone else, because his mind doesn't work like everyone else's.

That terrifies you.

And a spell is broken, and you're suddenly conscious of how you feel, and oh, God, Scott! There's a chasm in my mind suddenly, a gap, a silence; years, memories, and love!

Scott, what've I done?

Too many thoughts. Drowning.

Shut it off...

Some device beeps frantically, climaxing, and then stops. You exhale.

Logan, who's been frozen, numb with shock, gets down and turns the corpse over, checking foolishly for a pulse. It brings you back to your senses. No one could ignore this...

Now you're sensing something new. Someone. The professor. He's caught on to you.

Before, you're certain you could've gotten away with half a dozen mental smokescreens and excuses. He doesn't intuitively know you as well as he likes to think he does, and besides, who can plumb a mind?

That is, who but you?

Jean! He's yelling. Don't do anything until I get there! Approaching only fast as he can with two hands and two wheels.

There's blood on your hands now; its stink hangs in the air. No one could fail to spot that something's amiss. Arriving now, the professor could change everything.

And you don't want the cure whilst you're enjoying the disease.

You run from the scene while you still can, paying no heed to Logan's yelling. It's not your marks they'll find on the body. Who's the crazy one now?

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I know this is going to be an unpopular chapter (it's too horrible to even consider it could happen), but I'd really love to hear what you thought of it. Please review, I love getting reviews, I add shamelessly. (!!)