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Chapter Eleven: Hedging Bets
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Jean pressed a hand to her mouth. It hurt to look at this room. She wasn't the naïve girl who lived in this recreated room any more than she'd been the woman who'd shared this room with Scott this morning. This place didn't fit her anymore. It seemed that no place fit her anymore. She didn't fit.
A hot rush of frustrated anger spiked through her. Nothing fit. Her eyes caught on the painting he'd rehung. Scott was right. It was awful - and a painful reminder of a person she wasn't anymore. Jean violently jerked the painting from the wall with her mind and tore the canvas in two and then again and again and again until it was in tatters. The loud ripping was immensely satisfying and then suddenly, heartbreaking as the shredded remnants floated to the ground, like so much discarded confetti.
Haphazard bits of color littered the floor. She felt like it looked. Torn. A thing once whole, once so carefully arranged, now torn up into a million disjointed pieces. The proverbial Humpty Dumpty. Broken, with too many pieces to ever be put back together again... and this time the king wouldn't be there to pick up the pieces because she was in love with one of his men. Suddenly, the childish nursery rhyme didn't seem quite so funny anymore. Jean fought the urge to be sick.
She couldn't go back. She didn't want to go back. She wasn't that person anymore. The problem was she didn't know who she was now. It wasn't because of Scott. Or Logan. It was because like Scott, she had been pretending too long. And now in the silence, a fiery voice whispered strange seductive things that made her question everything she'd worked so hard to be. Was she a doctor or a predator? Healer or hunter? Cultured and disciplined or wild and animalistic? One or the other? Both? Neither? Some of each?
Will the real Jean Grey please step forward?
She swallowed a bubble of insane laughter that bordered on hysterical tears. She wasn't at all sure if she started she'd be able to stop. How can a woman with such determined will and such a strong sense of self suddenly not know who she was? It was terrifying.
Jean took a deep breath and her stinging eyes swept the room. She knew one thing, though. It felt wrong not having any of Scott here. He'd been her best friend and lover for the better part of a decade. His presence in her life had helped shape the person she was today -whoever that may be. She could no more strip him from her room than she could from her past. He was a part of her. And for whatever the future had in store for her and Logan, he'd just have to accept that.
She knelt before the 'us' box. Before he left, he'd simply told her to take what she wanted from it and he'd take care of the rest. She removed a few treasured items; a book of poetry he'd broken the 'law of window-shopping' to buy for her on a whim - a teasing reminder that practical as he was - he didn't always follow the rules. Next, she removed a stone he'd once skipped nine times with unerring precision. She remembered smiling at the look of amused outrage on his face when she plucked it from the lake with her mind right before he could break her record of ten skips. That was the first time she'd managed such fine control of her 'gift' and she'd kept the smooth, gray stone to remind herself of what was possible on the days when that fine control had eluded her imperfect fledgling abilities.
Sighing heavily at the memory, she removed a few more mementos; the note he'd left on her pillow the morning after they'd made love for the first time, the tickets from the opera he'd taken her to on the night he proposed, a photo he'd taken of her the autumn he'd moved in. Her red hair was loosely twisted up, her cheeks were pink and her eyes were glittering. She was wearing a burgundy coat and standing under a tree with crimson leaves. The wind had kicked up just as he'd snapped the picture and the bright red leaves were dancing around her wildly. He'd kissed her right before taking the picture. Even her lips were red.
Jean smiled sadly and trailed a single fingertip over the cool glass. All those reds. It had been one of their little jokes. Everything Scott saw was red, but in this picture everything really was red. It was actually this photo that had started the tradition of her wearing red for him. They might be over, but it was a memory worth keeping.
She pulled out a few other things and then rose from her knees to redistribute those carefully chosen items throughout the sterile, empty space. She sank down on the bed and looked around the room. It still looked bare, but it was better now and in all honesty, Jean had no desire to wipe away every trace of his existence from her life.
Although the room was warm, she shivered and rubbed her cold hands together to warm them. Her brow furrowed. Something felt wrong. She held out her left hand. As much as she knew it was for the best that they were finally, officially over, she felt naked without his ring on her finger. Her hand felt strange, too light without the thin circle of gold and although her skin was fair, there was an even paler band where his ring had rested for the last three years. An echo of what might have been. Mocking her.
God, she wasn't even wearing his ring anymore and she was still marked. She felt like she was going to go mad. Despite the personal nature of the items she'd rescued from the 'us' box, she suddenly had the urge to wipe away any lingering intimate presence of him from both her body and her room.
Hastily stripping, she took a long, hot shower. She closed her eyes under the scalding spray and wished it could wash away the pale mark from her finger as easily as it washed away the tears from her face. She felt uncomfortable in her own skin, like nothing would ever be right again. Everything was too new, too different. There were suddenly so many more choices open to her, so many she never even thought she'd have to consider. She found herself overwhelmed by the myriad of possibilities.
It didn't get any easier when she dried off and looked for something to wear to bed. Everything reminded her of Scott. It was either something he'd given her or something she'd bought because she thought he'd like it or it was red. So much red. She'd always liked red, but suddenly she never wanted to wear that color again. No, no more red. Not for a long, long time. She wrapped her arms around her slender naked form as she took a step back from the dresser. Her lingerie drawer was awash in a sea of reds. Every shade under the sun, from bright fire-engine red to the deepest crimson. Like fine wine. Or old blood.
She shivered and emptied the drawer with her mind before shoving it closed. The bang resounded audibly in the silence and she came to a decision. Tonight she'd throw out both her red lingerie and she'd also throw out that nagging voice in her mind that sounded so much like her mother, whispering that good girls - nice girls - didn't sleep naked.
To hell with that.
Jean was feeling anything but nice tonight. She was tired of trying to please everyone, even behind closed doors. She'd always wanted to sleep naked. It seemed deliciously wanton and so risqué in the face of her proper upbringing. Nobody would ever believe the demure Dr. Grey had always longed to cast aside all the strict rules she lived by and simply luxuriate in the sensual feel of crisp sheets against her bare alabaster skin. There were so many rules she wanted to break and she was determined that this one would be the first. Jean smiled for the first time since she'd walked into her room tonight.
It faded when she turned around and saw the bed. The coverlet was a soft muted green, much the same tasteful-yet-conservative color scheme Charles favored for the rest of the school, but like a lot of things in her life - and in Scott's - it was red underneath. Or at least, it had been red this morning. Jean whipped back the covers with her mind, exposing the red cotton jersey sheets. A small part of her wondered if he'd honestly forgotten them or if he'd deliberately left them behind. Most likely the former, men didn't pay as much attention to bed linens as women, but either way, she was determined to finish what he started. She had no desire to spend another night surrounded by Scott's red.
Jean jerked them from the bed roughly, beyond caring if they tore. She couldn't sleep in them one more night. Couldn't stand the color. Couldn't stand the reminder. Couldn't stand Scott's scent lingering on the sheets. They joined the pile of discarded lingerie and canvas scraps in the corner of her room. She would dispose of them tomorrow and another piece of her old self would be gone, ready to be replaced with something new - just as soon as she figured out exactly who Jean Grey was when she wasn't trying to please everyone else. The possibilities were staggering. It was incredibly liberating to have so much freedom.
It might be liberating, but thought of rediscovering the real Jean Grey frightened the daylights out of her. It was like the picture of who she thought she was had suddenly vanished, leaving in its place an incredibly intimidating white canvas for her to fill. Taking a deep breath, she made first one decision and then another. A paintbrush touched that pristine canvas, hesitantly at first and then with bolder strokes she began to replace that old image with something new.
With someone new.
She remade the bed with a new set of satin sheets she'd bought on a whim but had never used. Scott didn't like satin. He said it snagged the rough skin of his hands. Well, she didn't have to worry about that now, did she? Feeling very smug, she smoothed the sheets down and finished remaking the bed. Her mother would find the very idea of her daughter sleeping naked in satin sheets horribly trashy. Hell, they were even black. She couldn't remember why she'd bought them, only that she'd felt incredibly naughty doing so. How pathetic of her to feel like such a rebel for something as mundane as buying linens. Jean resolved to do more things she wanted to do, regardless of how other people felt about it. She was so tired of trying to please everyone but herself.
She flicked off the light and slipped into bed. The sheets were silky and cool against her soft skin. It was new and different but it definitely felt good - not just the physical sensations, but the fact that she'd made a decision based solely on her own personal desires. It felt good to discover something new about herself. It felt even better to act on it.
In all honesty, it was a huge relief to reclaim even just that tiny bit of herself. It was a small step, but a step nonetheless. For once, she wasn't her mother's daughter. Wasn't Charles' soldier. Wasn't Scott's fiancée. Wasn't the woman Logan lusted after. She was simply Jean. And for the first time in longer than she could remember, she fell asleep without Scott and Logan haunting her thoughts.
~*~
Several weeks later
~*~
Charles replaced the cup carefully back into its saucer and rubbed the bridge of his nose. He'd never cared for uncertainty. It went against his thoroughly British upbringing. A place for everything and everything in its place. Unfortunately, ever since the break up, he was aware Jean had felt out of place. Despite the strained atmosphere whenever Jean and Scott were together, they others were adjusting to the changes rather well. It was in no small part due to the fact that Scott and Jean had made an effort to retain both a strong working relationship and a cordial but cool friendship.
He was aware they were both getting used to the newness of living apart after so long, but they'd done a remarkable job of presenting to the team a united front. In truth, he was proud of both of them for dealing so well with such a difficult situation and not allowing it to disrupt the team, regardless of their personal feelings towards each other. He knew it wasn't easy for either of them. New beginnings never were, no matter how warranted they might be.
Charles turned his chair toward the window and let his thoughts drift to Jean. He had been meeting with her a few times a week since the break up. Not to discuss her failed relationship, but to discuss the manifestation of Phoenix. The sessions had been difficult to say the least. He was reluctant to encourage her to open herself fully to the awesome power she harbored inside her while she was still rediscovering herself. He felt she was simply not ready, not stable enough to control so much raw power while she was still so uncertain of who she was.
It was hard for him to watch someone he held dear to his heart struggle so. It was never overt, of course. Jean was far too cultured and well mannered to make a spectacle of herself. She hadn't discussed the particulars with him, but he had both eyes and ears. There wasn't much that happened under this roof that he was unaware of, including the struggle for dominance, both sexual and otherwise, between Logan and Jean.
In all honesty, he was surprised that Logan hadn't immediately pursued Jean. Logan had never let her relationship get in the way of his desires in the past and Charles wasn't at all certain why her lack of a relationship would give him pause now. Perhaps his odd self-imposed code of honor demanded he give her time. Whatever the reason, Logan had spent as much time as possible away from the school, returning only for missions and Jean had spent the time simply enjoying being Jean.
She was different. He couldn't quite put his finger on it but it was there just the same. The differences were subtle. It wasn't as if she'd changed into an entirely different person. She hadn't truly lost her sense of self. She'd just spent so long pleasing everyone else that she'd lost a little of herself along the way. She was as graceful and genteel as always, yet there was a new spark burning just behind those cool green eyes. She'd never been weak but she had a new strength now that gave her a harder edge both during missions and here during her regular life as well. She didn't go out of her way to be contrary, but she'd stopped bending over backwards to please everyone. Charles smiled wryly. The new changed suited her.
He wasn't too sure if the others had noticed it. It was subtle. They might not have noticed that, but everyone had noticed that since Scott had moved into his own room, Jean had stopped wearing red. It wasn't as if that was the only color she ever wore. It had always been tasteful. An accent rather than a statement. A tailored red silk skirt, a ruby pendant, a sheer crimson scarf. Charles could only guess at her more intimate apparel. He imagined that a great deal of that had been red as well, judging by the amount of Victoria's Secret bags she'd brought into the mansion recently. Lately, she'd taken to wearing black. Oddly enough, it only served to enhance the natural red of her hair and lips. Charles smiled. Some things would never change. Jean was an incredibly lovely woman and some reds would stay no matter what her feelings for Scott.
A knock at his door ended his musings and brought him back to the present. He turned away from the window and with calm precise motions settled himself behind his desk before he invited the two men in. He wasn't looking forward to this conversation any more than they were, but there were matters that needed to be settled - primarily how to handle Jean's training in regards to the recent addition to her 'gifts'.
A great mind knows its limitations. Charles might be able to do unimaginable things with his mind, but even he knew when to ask for assistance. However awkward it might be, he needed council from both Logan and Scott in this matter. Scott, because he was the field leader and had an understanding of not only what was needed in battle but because he also had an intimate understanding of Jean's mind and Logan, because he'd been the one overseeing the team's combat training and if anyone knew her physical limitations, it was him.
It had also not escaped Charles' attention that the Wolverine probably had a far deeper understanding of the Phoenix than any of them - including Jean, and he was curious to see what light that unique perspective would shed on the situation.
Charles took a deep breath and let it out slowly as he waited for Scott and Logan to settle themselves. "Gentlemen, I believe you are both well aware of why I called this meeting." Two curt nods followed his words. He'd spoken of his concerns to each man privately and asked both of them to give the matter some thought. Charles wanted to hear each of their opinions and wished to share his own ideas on the subject. He was well aware the situation was delicate, but he thought it best to hold the meeting jointly to give each of them a chance to respond to each other's ideas.
Over tea, he shared with them his views and opened the floor for discussion. An hour of intense conversation followed. Each of them brought valid points to the table, and predictably, each of them had a different opinion on how best to continue Jean's training. It all boiled down to two very opposite views. Scott believed it best for Jean to continue her sessions with Charles so she could explore this new facet of her 'gift' in a carefully controlled environment while Logan favored a more direct approach.
He argued that Charles had been aware of her latent power for some time and had already begun preparing her mentally. The groundwork was already there. Logan felt it best to begin urging her to let it fully manifest. Not just mentally, but physically as well. Furthermore, he argued that Jean feared what was inside of her so much, feared losing control to such an extent that he believed she wouldn't ever let it out unless pushed to do so.
The bottom line was that Scott didn't believe Jean was ready to handle the vast power she harbored inside her and Logan did. He may not understand her as intimately as Scott did or have spent the time with her that Charles had, but he understood something of her nature, something Charles and Scott would never understand simply because they didn't feel the wildness inside them the same way he and Jean did. She was ready. He was certain of it. He couldn't explain to them how he knew. It was just something he felt instinctively.
Both plans had drawbacks. The war with Magneto was coming and they needed Jean to be able to use her 'gifts' offensively. Something she still didn't do to either Scott or Logan's satisfaction. Scott's idea was sound, but they didn't have the luxury of waiting years for Jean to feel comfortable enough to let it fully manifest - if she ever would. Logan's idea had its drawbacks as well, namely the danger both to himself and to the rest of the school if he was wrong about Jean being ready to handle it on her own.
"So what you're saying is that you want to pick a fight with the express purpose of forcing her to use her 'gifts' offensively?" It was clear from his tone of voice that Scott didn't think that was a good idea.
Charles was leaning towards Logan's idea and he waited to see how he'd respond. So far, Logan had argued all his points logically. If he'd lost his temper or failed to think before answering, Charles would have dismissed Logan's idea outright, but he was well aware that Logan understood Jean in ways he and Scott never would. Logan might be abrasive and coarse, but he was highly intelligent and he had a knack for reading people. He didn't often have much to say, but when Logan talked, Charles made a point of listening.
"Hell, we both agree she hasn't been comin' up to scratch, offensively speakin'." What he said was true. Jean was far more comfortable using her 'gifts' defensively than offensively. "It comes down to this - she can't and won't put the doctor in her aside long enough to do some real damage." He crossed his arms over his chest. "The trainin' is there. I ain't arguin' that. She thinks on her feet and knows how to move." He paused and gave Scott an unreadable look. "But you just can't get away with pushin' her the way I can." Partly because of who Scott was to her and partly because he couldn't heal the way Logan could.
Logan felt their eyes on him and knew he was going to have to explain that comment. "She can't let herself go 'cause she's worried 'bout hurtin' ya." He shrugged. "That ain't a problem with me." That was true on many levels, not just the obvious one. He didn't add that if she had as much of the predator in her as he thought she did, at some point it would take over the same way his did when he lost himself in a berserker rage. He also didn't add that he had an intimate understanding of primal behavior and he was aware the strong undercurrents of sex and violence between them would only serve to heighten her response to him should he push her in such a fashion.
Although Scott didn't much care for Logan at the moment, he had a point. Looking at Logan across the table, Scott got the distinct impression Logan wasn't asking for permission here, he was simply sharing with them the plan he'd already decided upon.
"Assuming she'll even agree to fight you-"
"Not a problem, Slim. She's been itchin' to take a piece outta me for months." He didn't elaborate as to why. It had readily become apparent to him that Scott had known far more than he'd given him credit for. It was hard to keep secrets in this place and even harder when his room was right down the hall from theirs. Even without his enhanced senses, he'd have been able to hear the fight the evening they broke up. It was the first time he'd ever heard Scott's voice raised in anger and words he'd overheard had left quite an impression. He wouldn't make the mistake of underestimating Scott again. Despite that ruby quartz hiding his eyes from the world, it was clear there wasn't much Scott missed - especially if it involved Jean.
Scott ignored Logan's comment and continued on. "-And assuming you can provoke the desired response, are you sure the gym is really the place for this confrontation?"
Charles was inclined to agree with Scott on that point. "Perhaps you ought to consider taking it to the Danger Room, Logan." The gym was fine for sparring but the kind of fight Logan was talking about would be far better suited to the controlled environment of the Danger Room.
Logan's eyes shifted to Charles. "It ain't gonna work if she's expectin' it, Chuck."
Scott's jaw clenched. "The work out room isn't shielded. If it gets away from her-"
"It won't." There was a surety in Logan's answer that gave both Charles and Scott pause.
"Are you willing to risk your life on that assessment?" There was no heat or recrimination in Charles' cultured voice. It was simply a question.
"Yes." There was absolutely no uncertainty in Logan's words.
Charles nodded thoughtfully. "Are you willing to stake our lives on it? She harbors an incredible amount of power, Logan. If it gets away from her, that could very well be the case."
Logan hesitated a moment before giving a curt nod. "Yes."
The very fact that Logan hesitated before answering that particular question told Charles all he needed to know. Logan might be reckless with his own personal safety but he'd never willingly do anything that would put the members of his pack in danger. Not even to settle things with Jean. Charles was no simpleton. He was well aware the coming confrontation had as much to do with Logan's personal relationship with Jean as it did with taking her training to the next level.
Scott wasn't upset that Charles was leaning towards Logan's idea, but he had some serious concerns about Logan's ability to deal with Jean's newfound power and as much as he liked the idea of Jean frying him to a crisp, the team needed Logan. "What makes you think you can show her anything about controlling that thing inside her? Charles has been working with her for fifteen years-"
"Exactly, Slim. He's been workin' with her. With Jean." He paused and a predatory smile touched his harsh mouth. "It ain't the woman in her I'm plannin' on provokin'."