It couldn't wait until the next morning. I had to talk to Jean that night. I got out of bed, threw on a t-shirt, and headed down to the second floor. Hoping she was still for some reason awake, I knocked on her bedroom door.
After a second, a soft light streamed out from the crack under the door. Next moment, Jean was standing in the doorway in striped pajama pants and a tank, hair pulled to the side in a sloppy braid. Understandably, she looked surprised to see me. "Scott?"
"Sorry, guess I woke you."
"Yeah, no, it's fine. Um, come in." Yawning, she shook her head as though to shake off the last traces of the sleep I'd dragged her out of and stepped aside so I could enter. As I sat at the foot of her bed, she softly shut the door before sitting at the head, hugging her pillow to her chest. "It's almost midnight, what's up?"
I ran a hand through my hair. "Listen, I'm really sorry I woke you up. I just - I couldn't sleep. I owe you an apology."
Jean's eyebrows furrowed. "Why?"
"I was a real jerk about last night - no, let me finish. I know you, and I know you probably think that happened was your fault, like you should have tried harder or something. But I know how much you hate using your telepathy, and I know how hard you try to shut everything out. It wasn't your fault." I looked down at her quilt, fingering the designs. "And yeah, there's some stuff I try to keep private for a reason. I'm just sorry you had to see that. And," I looked back up at her, "I'm sorry for the way I reacted. I never should have done anything to make you feel like you deserved for me to be angry with you."
Looking at me in disbelief, she stammered, "Wow. Um, thanks. Thank you." Her hands ran down the end of her braid, over and over. "I am sorry, though. I mean, I didn't really understand what I saw, but I knew it was something I shouldn't - I shouldn't have seen, and I'm really sorry."
I half smiled. "Well, let's just both agree to forgive each other. And I'll try to be more understanding from now on."
Jean smiled back, looking more content than I think I'd ever seen her. "Okay. And I'll try not to pry into your dreams again."
"Deal. Uh, Jean?" I hesitated. "What you saw, that was, um -"
"Scott, you don't have to -"
"No, actually. I -" I took a deep breath. "I think I do." I swung my legs up onto the bed and sat cross-legged to face her better. "When I was ten, my parents and my brother and I were in a plane that got struck by lightning. There were only two parachutes - I don't know why. My parents stayed on the plane while my brother and I jumped. My parents didn't survive the crash, and Alex -" I swallowed hard. "They never found him."
"So what I saw...that was a memory?"
"Yeah, I, uh, I dream about it. A lot. But last night, that was the first time I'd had that dream since I got here."
Jean shifted a bit closer to me. "I'm sorry, Scott," she said simply.
I shrugged. "Yeah, well..." I glanced at her bedroom door. "To be honest, I'm not really looking forward to going to sleep again," I admitted.
"Ask me something. Anything."
"Wait, what?"
She moved her pillow from her lap back to the headboard behind her. "It just doesn't seem fair, me finding out stuff about you without you wanting me to."
"No, no, I'm actually kind of glad you know now."
Jean smiled a bit, but pressed on. "Yeah, well, here's your chance to read my mind. Go ahead, ask me anything." She sat up straighter, physically opening herself up a bit more.
Chuckling, a cast my mind about for a question. "Okay, uh...how'd you find out about your powers?"
Her eyes seemed to harden for a moment, and I wondered if maybe I shouldn't have asked.
"No, it's fine, I -" Her eyes flew open wide. "You didn't say that out loud, did you? Oh gosh, I'm so sorry!"
"It's fine, Jean," I said softly, and I realized I meant it. "I could tell I caught you off-guard with that. You okay?"
She went back to running her hands over her braid. "Yeah, I just...I spent a long time here trying not to think about that." I was about to protest that she didn't have to tell me, but she continued softly, "But maybe I need to. Is it - do you still want to know?"
"Only if you want me to," I assured her.
"I do." She nodded. "Yeah, I do. Gosh, how do I even explain this? Um, last summer...June fourth...my best friend and I were heading back to my house after a party down at the lake. She was a year older than me, so she drove me everywhere and got me into parties all the time. We hadn't been drinking, but a couple of guys had, and one of them hit us." She bit her lip for a moment before continuing. "I'm still not sure I really understand what happened. I woke up in a hospital over a month later. They told me I'd been in a coma and they weren't sure why because, physically, there wasn't much wrong with me aside from a few cuts." She was fingering the scar on her left forearm. I'd noticed it before, but I'd never asked her how she got it.
She took a deep breath. "I met the Professor while I was in the hospital, and he explained to me about my powers. He told me that when we got hit, I formed a - a psychic bond. With Rachel. Like I completely connected our minds. Rachel took most the impact from the crash, and she - " Jean took a shaky breath. "She died almost instantly. I went into a coma because my mind was still connected to hers. I don't remember any of it, but the Professor had to enter my mind and help me separate from hers, or I'd probably still be in a coma." She'd been looking down at her hands in lap, but now she met my gaze. "So, yeah, that's how I ended up here."
I was shocked. Jean had always struck me as a little naive, like she hadn't really had much bad happen in her life. I never would have thought she'd been through anything that traumatic, especially not so recently. And she told me about it, willingly. Me, who'd barely known her two months.
"Jean, I - that's awful. How - How long had you known her? Rachel?"
She managed a small smile. "We lived on the same street our whole lives, up until her parents' divorce. She was fourteen, and I was thirteen. And after that, she pretty much lived at my house. Her mom moved out of state, just left her, and her dad...wasn't the best parent. So she stayed at my place a lot. She was family. We did everything together."
Looking back down at her hands, she said quietly, "My rings that I always wear, they were hers. I got one for her her thirteenth birthday, and every year after that. I can't bring myself to take them off."
Suddenly, she stood up. "Okay, I'm really hungry. Let's go find something to eat before I start crying."
We went down to the kitchen, and upon finding a bag of chocolate chips, Jean declared that she wanted cookies. We forgot to halve the recipe and ended up baking four dozen, and in the process got into a bit of a food fight so there was flour everywhere. But we had everything cleaned up by the time the cookies were done baking, and we sat on the counter and ate a whole pan between the two of us.
Eventually, we made our way back upstairs. We stopped at her doorway, looking at each other, and I felt like there was something I was supposed to say but I didn't know what.
She surprised me by suddenly wrapping her arms around me, and in that moment that I held her against my chest, I decided that maybe we didn't need to say anything.