Spoilers: For the film, obviously.
And I don't suppose it'll make much sense if you haven't seen
Author's Note: It's a light piece based on Jean's line
near the end of the film, "She took on some of your more charming
character traits for a while."
Archiving: It's my first attempt at X-fic, so please
don't, unless you e-mail me and ask first.
Disclaimer: I don't own them, nor do I have any hope
of ever making money from them.
He left two weeks ago and I still find my self watching Jean
It isn't as bad as those days when he was asleep. I'm not
as bad as I was, and for a while there I was pretty bad. Occasionally,
I still let slip a curse that I don't remember learning but
that seems to make me infinitely cooler in the eyes of the
boys around here. I still itch to smoke a cigar. And sometimes,
I have those dreams that wake me sweaty at night.
But it isn't as bad as before, when I could pour through
his memories, the ones of the last fifteen years. I'm fifteen
years old, but suddenly I could remember late nineties, when
I was a toddler. I knew how to drive a motorcycle. I knew
how to kick the asses of any number of people I met. More,
I was itching to fight. That stuff, all of his older stuff
was patchy, fading in and out.
The more recent memories were fresher. Suddenly, I couldn't
stand Scott. And I found myself staring at Dr. Grey all
the time. I remember her scent as she examined me on the way
back at the school that night. The trip from the Statue of
Liberty to Westchester took no time at all.
After they'd stablized Logan, she unbuckled me and sat me
up. At that point, I was still shaking. I don't think I'd
said a word since I had woken up in his arms. I was kneeling
next to his body and gently shaking him when they got up there.
My body had felt fine, humming in fact, but I couldn't hold
one thought long enough to form a coherent sentence, let alone
gather the will to stand and walk, so they'd had to lead me
stumbling to the plane. Jean half carried me, and buckle me
in like a child. I listened to them fight to keep him breathing,
and I wanted to help. I couldn't, though. I couldn't do anything
but stare at the celing and try to figure out what thoughts
were mine, which were his, and who I was.
She sat me up and listened to my breathing, to my heart.
She leaned in and put on this visor with a magnifying glass
to examine my eyes. I could smell her breath, but more than
that, I could smell her sweat. Waves of her scent, strong
and sharp, washed over me. She needed a shower. We all did.
But that night, I could pick out everyone's scent easier than
their voice or face.
I found myself examining her uniform, tight black leather
over a tight, warm body. My eyes were finally starting to
focus again, and she smiled at me.
I gave her a weak smile and leaned back against the seat.
My head was racing, rumbling with his thoughts and emotions.
Nothing fully formed ... it's not like I could talk to him
or anything, but his mind was right there, pressed up against
mine, curled around me. And though it felt strange, like wearing
shoes on the wrong feet, it wasn't as scary as before. In
a bizzare way, it was comforting. We hit a little turbulence,
and I grabbed Jean's wrist.to steady myself.
"You gave us quite a scare," she said.
"Wouldn't want to do that."
"How do you feel?"
"Like shit." I clapped a hand over my mouth. I never curse.
"Sorry, I mean, I'm a little out of it, but I feel okay."
I looked around the plane. Scott was busy flying, and Ororo
was tending to Logan, bandaging the smaller cuts. "Is he gonna
be okay?" He looked dead. At the sight of his body, his mind
fluttered against mine like a moth, so I closed my eyes. The
shock was wearing off, and I was starting to realize that
he might die. That he had saved my life, and that I might
have killed him. Tears welled up, and tried to focus. Then
I felt him, like a warm, scratchy blanket was being wrapped
around me. It was like a hug from the inside. I laughed a
little and forced eyes open. "Is he?" My gaze drifted back
"Probably." She gently turned my head back to face her. "But
don't think about that right now." She patted my arm, and
I squeezed her wrist, examining the leather sleeve. My senses
were still reeling, jacked up and ten times stronger than
normal.. Sounds, smells, and even the heat from them ... all
were assaulting me, demanding my attention. I tried to block
it out, staring at her uniform.
"You think I'll get to wear one of these one day?"
I heard Scott chuckle, and fought back the urge to say something
"One thing at a time," she said.
"It looks nice." She was really pretty in it, in a comic
book dominatrix sort of way. My gaze shifted down her neck,
along her arm, to her tight waist, then back up. I leaned
a little closer and whispered, "You look good." Smiling, I
raised an eyebrow, then settled back into the seat. Her jaw
dropped a little, and I saw Scott turn slowly to stare at
us. I put my hand over my mouth again.
"I'm sorry, I'm just a little ... I don't know." I rubbed
my forehead. "I don't know where that came from..."
I glanced at Logan on the floor. I knew exactly where it
was coming from. I hoped everyone else did. Jean sat back
a little, but mumbled that that it was okay as she searched
through a medical bag. Scott continued to stare. "Why don't
you keep your eye on the road," I snapped. Then I bit down
on my lip, hard. Oh crap. I tried to push him away, but he
clung like a cat, claws and all. I felt his fear. I don't
think he's had to think about death in a long time. I wished
that I could talk to him, but he was a jumble of images and
emotions. An indefinable slippery presence in my head.
I looked down at Logan's inert body. Ororo knelt next to
him, busily swabbing one of the cuts on his stomach. They'd
peeled off his uniform and he looked very pale, very hairy,
and very .... well, he apparently hadn't felt the need to
wear anything underneath the uniform. Somewhere in the back
of my head, I thought that this should be making me blush,
or look away or something. I don't see naked men, like, ever.
I wasn't blushing or looking away though. I wasn't staring
either. I just looked him over and looked back at Jean, who
was getting ready to examine my pupils with some doctor thing.
I couldn't tell if it was shock, or him in my head, or the
fact that after the events of the last two days, but seeing
someone half dead and naked on the floor of a fighter jet
wasn't that scary. I bright light flashed, and I winced away.
Jean steadied my head and her scent washed over me.
"Did we win?" I asked.
"Yeah," she put down the eye thing and smiled at me. "We
won." She patted my knee. "And I think you're okay. We still
have some tests to do once we get back." The jet thumped a
little, and everyone got belted in for the landing. I made
a smart remark about Scott's landing ability when we thumped
into the underground hanger, then I apologized profusely.
He shrugged it off as we got out of the plane.
"No, it's not me, it's..."
He put up a hand to stop me. "I know, it's okay. It's actually
kind of funny, and we could use a little humor right now."
I felt the urge to wipe that smirk off his face, but I squished
They went through the business of closing up the hanger.
I didn't know where to go, or whether they still needed me,
so I tagged along behind Jean. I didn't want to leave Logan's
side. "You really think he's going to be okay?" I asked Jean
in the elevator.
"Probably." She patted my shoulder and led me to the lab.
After checking on the Professor, Scott headed upstairs to
monitor the news and Ororo left to make sure nothing had happened
to the school while we were gone. After running a few scans
on me, she turned her attention to him.
She poked him and prodded him and adjusted a few of the more
makeshift bandages from the plane. She put a tube up his nose
and I got the dubious privledge of learning what a catheter
is and how it's inserted.
"Ouch," I said.
She shot a look at me, and I realized that she'd forgotten
I was there. "You don't need to see this" she said, covering
him with a sheet. I think she was blushing.
"Nothing I haven't seen before," I drawled. Or, rather, he
drawled, I think.
She raised her eyebrows.
"I mean...," I shrugged. "Actually, I haven't seen..." I
gestured at where her hands still rested.
"A ... uh ... naked guy."
She smiled. "Oh."
"If you're feeling alright, you can head off to bed. We can
talk in the morning---"
"No." I said sharply. "No, I want to stay here."
Nodding, she continued examining him and putting little suction
cup monitor thingies on his chest. Pretty soon, he was making
a steady beep on the machine. She fussed with his tubes a
little, and smoothed back this one piece of hair that stuck
up like Alfalfa. My mom always used to do that, fuss with
my hair when I was sick. Her cool hands would feel so nice
when I had a fever.
Jean pulled up his sheet, then turned to me. "C'mon. Enough
contributing to the delinqency of minors. There's nothing
else to do right now, he just needs time." She pushed a few
buttons on a pager and hooked it on her belt. "This'll let
us know if there's any change."
We headed to the kitchen, and she fixed me us some sandwiches.
After a few minutes of devouring roast beef and swiss, she
looked up at me.
She swallowed, and said slowly, "You're doing remarkably
well, considering." Sitting back, she unzipped her uniform
a little and let down her hair, running her fingers through
it. I wondered how comfortable those things were ... and I
wondered what she was wearing underneath it. Then, someone
gave me a creative guess as to what she was wearing underneath
My gaze fell to her chest. Without looking up, I said, "Considering
what, babe?" I covered my mouth again.
She coughed a little, then giggled.
"I'm so sorry," I said.
"No," she shook, trying not to laugh, but it wasn't working.
"No, it's okay, it's just..." her eyes met mine, and I couldn't
help but laugh too. I guess she was as overtired as I was
because we were absolutely overcome with a fit of giggles,
and I didn't stop untill my sides ached.
"It's not funny," I said, trying to keep a straight face.
"Not at all."
We erupted into laughter again, but fought it down as a sleepy
student shuffled in to grab a midnight snack.
"Hi Rogue, Hi Dr. Grey," Kitty said sleepily. She yawned,
and rummaged through the refrigerator. "What's so funny?"
"Well, um..." I searched for the right words and glanced
at Jean for help.
"You had to be there."
Kitty yawned again, smiled, and put the milk carton back
in the fridge. "Okay." She drank down the glass and clinked
it into the sink. "'Night," she called over her shoulder as
she took a shortcut through the wall between the kitchen and
the foyer. "Cool outfit," I heard her call from the stairs.
Jean chuckled again, and we finished our sandwiches in silence,
glancing at eachother and giggling occationally like a couple
of girls at a slumber party. As we were putting the dishes
away, she said, "But you are doing pretty well."
I shrugged. "I guess. Everything's still really weird up
"I meant about everything else."
Oh. Everything else. In the last two weeks I'd left the only
house I'd ever lived in, hitchhiked hundreds of miles, been
nearly killed a couple times, nearly killed the only person
I trusted ... twice, found out I was a freak of nature, found
out I'll probably never kiss anyone as long as I live, nearly
been responsible for killing New York City, flown in a plane
for the first time ... and done several other things I couldn't
recall at the moment but were, I'm sure, quite mind blowing.
I shrugged again. "I think there sort of comes a point where
you get numb."
"Yeah." Her voice was tired and sad for a moment as she stared
off into space, remembering something. Then she shook her
head and nodded for the door, yawning. "Bedtime?"
"Bedtime." I caught her yawn and started yawing as well.
I was still a little dizzy, and felt my bed calling. We headed
up the stairs and paused at my door.
"The Professor is getting better, and if he wakes up tommorow,
there will probably be a briefing, but if you need to talk
... about anything." She tilted her head and stared at me,
examining my face. All of a sudden I felt a little like a
lab specimen. I also felt a little turned on, which was really
starting to bug me out, so sent a strong wave of disapproval
at him, and I swear, I felt laughter prickling the back of
"What?" I asked slowly.
"How much of him is in there?"
I rolled my eyes. "You don't want to know, believe me."
"He's quite a..." she paused.
"Character," I said, at the same time as her. We smiled at
each other...but then it hit me, and her too I think. Nobody
knew what I could do to people. What I could do to him. He
might never wake up, or he could wake up tommorow. I remember
them discussing it in the plane. Jean had looked through his
mind and found it absolutely blank.
"He'll be okay."
"I hope so."
"I think he's a good guy," she said
"I know he is." I yawned again and opened the door to my
room. "I'll see you tommorow in Biology."
"You're excused from class. I'll bring you downstairs around
9, after breakfast."
I was so tired I swayed a little and leaned back against
the door frame. "'kay."
"Night." I started to close the door behind me, then popped
my head back out the hallway. "Oh, and Jean?"
"I'll try not to hit on you so much tommorow."
So, thoughts? Comments? Feedback of any
sort at all? Please send it to me at email@example.com
Down-Home Charm / Fan-Fiction /
Fan Artwork / History Books /
Photo Album / Songbank /
Miscellania / Links /
Legalese: Rogue, the X-Men, and the distinctive likenesses thereof
are Trademarks of Marvel Characters, Inc. and are used without permission. This is an
unofficial fansite, and is not sponsored, licensed or approved by