The Lady, the Leader and the Bump in the Road

Part Eight/?

Author: Nefret24

Disclaimers and notes, see part 1.

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"You've finally returned," Jean remarked upon seeing her fiance enter their room. She finished tying her lavender robe tight across her waist and placed her hands on her hips. "I'll order a new bag tomorrow."

"No need," he grunted, shedding his sweater and undoing the top two buttons of his shirt. He had chosen to work out his anger on tweaking some of the additions he had added to his motorcycle. It hadn't been nearly as satisfying but infinitely less destructive.

"Good," she said, lowering her arms and sitting down on the edge of the bed. "I didn't want to do it anyway."

She watched him as he took off his shoes with intense concentration.

"Scott," she sighed impatiently. "We need to talk."

"There's nothing to talk about."

"Don't be an ass."

"You mean to tell me that I was walking in on something other than a harmless conversation?" he asked with forced surprise, a hand pressed against his heart. "I'm shocked, I tell you. Shocked."

"To find gambling going on in this establishment?" she feebly joked, curving her lips slightly. "Really, Scott. I have no intention of insulting your intelligence. Logan is a very handsome man."

"Really? I hadn't noticed."

"Don't be childish. It's not like you're blind when it comes to pretty women. Logan's been that way all day, you know. Flirting with me."

"Well, then, that's it. Pistols or swords at dawn- your choice."

"Flirting with a pretty woman's not a crime."

"It better not be."

"He knows I'm with you."

"He does," Scott said pointedly as he pulled off his sweater.

"I suppose you reiterated that for him once I left?"

"Of course. I left out the pistols thing, I hadn't known the scope of his offense. Perhaps I should go and issue my challenge now. Or should I get one of the students to carry it in letter form to him?"

Jean grimaced and contemplated her hands folded on her lap. After a long pause she spoke in a soft voice. "He asked me to read his mind. I did."

I could do that and I'm not even psychic. And what was she doing fooling around with that stuff, anyway? He frowned and merely continued to stare off into the opposite corner of the room.

"Oh Scott, for heavens' sake," she shifted on the bed, reached up a hand to his chin and turned his face to look at her. "I read his mind and it terrified me."

"What," Scott had to lick his dry lips before he could continue, unsure of himself and now, since her last statement, of her, "what did you see?"

Jean closed her eyes tightly, pressing her lips together hard, remembering the intensity of the pain. Her body involuntarily shuddered as Jean felt as if every square inch of her skin was being pricked with needles. Her bones ached

A hand touched her face, hesitantly at first, and then a more reassuring caress. She knew that touch. "Scott," she managed his name as a whisper.

"Jean, stop it. Stop it, you hear me? Come back to me. I'm right here," he held her awkwardly, one arm behind her supporting her back and the other still on her cheek. "Look at me, Jean."

"It hurts"

"Look at me, Jean. You're okay, you're okay"

Her eyes flew open, wide and with irises startlingly opaque next to her pale skin. They closed almost as quickly as they opened and her hands made a grab for him, clutching and pulling. She held onto him as if her life depended on it.

"It's okay, it's okay, it's okay"

Slowly her grip loosened and she wiped her eyes with two fingers under her lashes. "I'm alright. I haven't gotten the hang of disassociation with the subject yet. The professor says that in time"

"Dammit Jean! I don't care about your telepathy lessons!" he shouted and turned away from her, lowering his head into his hands. "I care about you," he mumbled to his knees. "I don't know why you do this to me."

She glared at him. "I spent a whole week trying to come up with ways to make you miserable," she remarked nastily. "I am so glad that my evil plotting has come to fruition."

"Don't play with me."

"You think I'm joking? Logan is actually a member of a New England dinner theater- I asked him to come to the institute and pose as a new recruit just to get your goat."

"Dinner theater," he repeated hollowly, struggling not to laugh.

"Dinner theater. Does a mean King and I."

At this, Scott could finally take no more. He burst out laughing, uncontrollably, until his sides hurt, falling backwards onto the bed. Jean had begun to titter as well.

"I hate you, Jean. You always make me laugh."

"So much for the reputed Summers poker face."

"Seriously, though," he propped himself up slightly on one elbow. "This Logan"

"Something horrible happened to him, Scott," Jean said in a quiet, very serious voice. "When I when I looked into all I saw was fragments, but it, it was awful." She shivered as goose bumps broke out on her forearms. She rubbed at them distractedly as her eyebrows knit together in thought. "He was a victim of some kind of experimentation but I can't make it out. All I see is pain," her voice quivered slightly. "So much pain."

"What does he remember?"

"Nothing. Or maybe the same things. Uncontrollable pain inflicted by shadowy figures and green bubbles."

"Did you just say green bubbles?" he managed with a snicker.

"Scott, it's not funny. I think he was immersed in something."

"Something green?"

"Yes."

"Was it jello?"

She glared eloquently at him again, still rubbing her arms.

"You're scaring the hell outta me, you know that?" he remarked, flopping onto his back again.

"Scott, I-"

"It wasn't nothing, what I walked in on."

"I know," she admitted, idly running her fingers through his hair, spread out on their bedspread like a miniature brown halo framing his head.

"You know this isn't about him, right? I mean, you know that I trust you--"

"With other men's bodies, but not with their minds." She pulled her hand away and shook her head. "If anything happened to the Professor, we'd be helpless. No one would be able to work Cerebro--"

"You have a rare gift but what use will it do anyone if you can't control it? If it destroys you?" He sat up quickly and placed his hands on either side of her face. "What if something happened to you? How would any of us know what to do- you're the damn doctor- how could I save you then?"

"What if I don't need saving?"

"Everyone does. I did, once, remember?" Remember that frightened boy that couldn't see, that was so angry and miserable and lonely that all he wanted to do was curl up in the darkness and die? "You, Jean, saved me from myself."

"It wasn't me," she whispered as tears began to run down her cheeks. He smoothed them away with his thumbs.

"It was always you, you idiot. From day one until the day I die- a date which perilously creeps closer as the stress of living with you mounts up. I swear, I bet I have gray hairs."

She smiled and gave the top of his head a vigorous rub so that half of his hair stood on weird angles. "You can't see gray, Slim."

"I can differentiate tints and that's all I need. Light, dark, mmph!"

She hit him with a pillow. "Idiot."

"I pour my heart out and now I'm getting abused. Is it any wonder that my nerves are shaky?"

They grinned goofily at one another from opposite corners of the bed, their former harmony restored. Jean crooked a finger and urged him closer.

"Bring your shaky self over here and let's see if we can't calm you down some."

TBC

A/N: In reference to some questions regarding the last chapter: My memory of the movie dialogue can get sketchy between viewings. For any dialogue that was mangled, I apologize and list the offence under "artistic license." Whichever dialogue you prefer, I suggest you visualize the scene with that selection.