Unspoken: Barricades

Barricades
by Andariel

Rating: PG (some swearing, fairly mild)

Summary: Jean tests her wings and learns more than she anticipated.

Date: September 25, 2001

"Are you certain about this, Jean?"

No, she wasn't certain. Far from it, in fact. But her need for independence was rearing its head, and she felt compelled to try. She was sick and tired of feeling wounded, feeling like everyone around her needed to walk on eggshells because if they didn't, she might break.

Jean nodded, surprised at the certainty in her own voice when she answered. "Yes. I'm ready to see if I can do this alone for a while."

Professor Xavier tapped his steepled fingers against his chin a few times, then smiled. "Very well. You're on your own now."

Jean felt his protection fall from her mind and steeled her own. She could sense a soft murmur near the edges of her shields and focused. Then nothing. Absolute quiet.

She couldn't suppress a quick grin of triumph, didn't really try to hide it. Jean knew it would be more difficult once she left the security of the Professor's office and entered the main body of the house, but she was ready to push herself. Ready to see how much progress she'd made.

She stood up and reached out a hand that shook slightly. "Thank you, Professor."

Xavier smiled kindly up at her, taking her trembling hand in both of his and patting it comfortingly. "You're very welcome, my dear. You've made excellent strides, but should you need assistance..."

Jean laughed softly. "Don't worry. I'm trying to be brave, not suicidal. If it gets to be too much, you'll hear me."

Jean turned and walked out into the hallway. It was lunchtime, and several students milled about, talking to each other and laughing or complaining about homework assignments. The outer din was welcome, almost comforting, because Jean didn't sense any extraneous noise inside her head.

Her stomach reminded her that she hadn't eaten more than a piece of dry toast and tea for breakfast, so she went to the kitchen. Hot chocolate suddenly seemed like a calling. She retrieved a saucepan from the cupboard and gathered the ingredients on the countertop: milk, cocoa powder, sugar, salt, and vanilla extract. She knew the recipe by heart and set about making the comfort food remembered from her childhood.

When the cocoa was properly heated and seasoned, she poured the steaming liquid into a mug and headed for the pantry with it in hand. An apple, a granola bar, and a thick slice of French bread slathered with peanut butter completed her meal. The fruit and the granola bar went into her pockets, and she carried the rest with her into the school library.

Since it was the lunch hour, the library was deserted. She set her mug and the slice of peanut butter bread in one of the study cubicles and headed for the stacks. Quickly finding the section on self-hypnosis and meditation, she selected a couple of books the Professor had suggested that she read.

Her head snapped up from the contemplation of the inside jacket of a book on Yoga when she heard footsteps and the sound of the library door shutting.

"I don't want to do this right now, Scott."

Rogue's irritated and impatient voice saying those words was the last thing Jean heard externally.

Inside her skull, Jean's mind screamed with the chaos of thoughts from two people completely unguarded and in the throes of massive emotional overload. She hastily shoved the book into an open space on the shelf and suppressed a scream, pressing the palms of her hands to her temples. She didn't want to intrude, didn't want them to know she was there. Most of all, she didn't want their thoughts in her head.

Focus-focus-focus-focus...

Sank slowly to the floor, hands still pressed to her head, eyes clenched shut, not even having the energy or the mental strength to call out to the Professor for help. Get out. Get out of my head! Get out, get out, get out...

The slamming of the library door shook Jean out of her panicked state. It could have been two minutes or two hours later. She had no idea how long she'd been crouched in a ball on the floor of the library, huddled between the stacks and desperately seeking quiet inside her head. Dear God... she hadn't been prepared for that. Not even close.

But at least she was now aware of her limitations, her analytic side popped up to remind her, almost mockingly. Jean's breath shuddered as she struggled to get a grip on herself. Control, control, control. Get up before someone finds you like this. Do something.

She clutched the edge of a shelf and pulled herself upright. Grabbed the small stack of books she'd set down and left the library. She hurried through the halls with the books held tight against her chest, feeling the Professor inside her head, knowing he'd re-erected his barrier for her upon sensing her distress. She reached the door of his office and walked inside, steeling herself for the pity she expected to see in his kind eyes.

She knew what she had to do.

Twenty minutes later, two sets of keys shoved into her pocket and a New York state map clutched in her hands along with the books, Jean shoved the door to her room open and strode in quickly, making a beeline for the closet. Grabbing the small canvas bag she'd brought with her, she tossed it on the bed and started pulling clothes from the drawers. She shook her head at herself as she shoved a handful of underwear into the bag. *Her room*. She recalled Rogue's words from the night before:

* Used to be mine.*

So much in the words that had nothing to do with the room itself. Tired irony and accusations that Jean couldn't really deny, even though she wanted to.

Jean bit her lip as she pulled clothes from the closet hangers. Her room. Claiming ownership to a piece of space that she'd occupied for less than a week. Stupid, wrong, and just plain careless.

With the drawers and closet emptied, she took the bag with her into the adjoining bathroom and swept the toiletries off the counter to clatter in a heap on top of the clothing. Like a person vacating a hotel room, she set her bag on the bed and quickly scanned the room for any other belongings. Nothing remained to say that she'd been there. Nothing except the misery she was taking with her and her guilt over the chaos she was leaving in her wake.

Jean looked down at the small satchel. It shouldn't make her feel sad that her entire life now fit into a single bag. That was convenient. Made it easy to pick up and go quickly. Convenient, not pathetic.

She turned away from her study of the bag and went through the drawers again. She was stalling and she knew it, but still completed the double-check anyway. It was when she exited the bathroom for the second time that she discovered she wasn't alone.

"Were you planning on letting me know you were leaving?"

Jean sighed and closed her eyes before nodding. "Yes, Logan. I was coming to see you before I left."

He came in and shut the door behind himself. She'd known this conversation was inevitable, but she'd hoped to have a few more minutes to prepare herself for it. Oh well. Nothing had been easy since she'd walked into this place. Why should she think walking out would be any different?

Logan leaned back against the closed door and folded his arms over his chest. "Something happened since this morning? I distinctly remember you saying that you weren't ready to stop working with Chuck yet."

Jean dropped down onto the bed and rested her hand on the bag. "I'm still going to be working with the Professor, just not here." Her fingers idly played with the nametag attached to the bag strap, her eyes focused on the motions as a distraction.

"It's not like you to run."

Jean's head fell slightly, and when she looked up and over at Logan, she was laughing with self-derision. "Oh, come on, Logan! It's *exactly* like me. You know that better than anyone."

Logan slowly shook his head. "Those were extreme circumstances. This is different."

"No, it's not. I couldn't cope then, so I ran. I can't cope now, either. I'm just following my pattern. You saw how I was then. You know what I did when it got to be too much."

"Yeah. And I know what you told me, too. What you went through, Jeannie... most people would have ended up in a rubber room or would have slit their wrists, but you didn't do that. You figured out a way to survive, and you didn't give up, so don't bullshit me or yourself. Don't try to use that as an excuse to justify what you're doing now."

Jean flew up off the bed, a part of her realizing that her rage was directed at the wrong person but too angry to care. "Justify? What the hell have I done that needs to be justified? God forgive me for the crime of existing! How does that work for you? No, wait, there's more. Let's see, envy, anger, lust -- three of the seven deadly sins right there. Fine. I repent, and now I've got to get the hell out of this place before I commit any more vices." Jean shook her head in self-condemnation, anger dissipating under the weight of sad desperation and regrets. "I can't deal with this anymore. Not here."

Logan studied her from across the room. Jean could almost hear him sorting things out in his head. "What set you off? Something happened and I'm not letting you go running off until you tell me what it is."

God... did he have to be so damned perceptive all the time? Jean's shoulders sagged a bit and she clutched her head before dropping her hands defeatedly. "I thought I was being so smart. I told the Professor I thought I was ready to shield on my own for a while and asked him to drop his protection so I could try."

Logan's head lifted in a knowing nod. "Which one of them did you run across?"

Jean laughed humorlessly. "Both of them, actually. Based on today's little experiment, I can safely say that I have the world's worst luck. The day I decide to try out my independence I run into two people who are in no condition to keep their thoughts to themselves."

"So you know the engagement's off?"

Jean nodded sadly. "I know that and a whole lot more that I could have done without. That's why I'm getting out of here."

Logan tilted his head, giving her a curious look. "Pretty strange timing, darlin'. The guy you want is free and *now* you're going to bolt?"

Jean stared up at the ceiling for a moment, trying to figure out how to explain something she wasn't sure she understood herself. No. That wasn't it. She saw things very clearly, and that came with its own set of problems.

She returned her gaze to his, wondering how much of this was Logan not seeing the whole picture and how much of it was him trying to help her sort it out herself. "That's just it, Logan. He *isn't* free. A returned ring doesn't mean something is over. It's not over for them, and I don't think either of them is ready for it to be."

Logan shrugged, the nonchalant gesture made significant by the expression on his face. "The split could have happened anyway, even if you hadn't come here. You're not responsible for their decision, Jeannie."

Jean reached down to zip her bag closed, needing an excuse to look away from those eyes that could read her better than she was comfortable with at the moment. "Maybe, but I need to take myself out of the equation."

"Playing martyr isn't like you either."

She straightened immediately, her wide eyes flying to Logan's face. He looked like he sincerely believed it, and that just made everything worse. "Martyr?" Jean laughed, angry bitterness dripping from the sound. She threw up her hands. "Why the hell not? Everyone else is taking a turn on the self-sacrifice merry-go-round, so I may as well do it too, right? That's what everyone will assume I'm doing, but I don't give a good damn at this point."

Logan took a step forward. "Jeannie..."

"No, Logan. Don't. You just don't get it. You don't know what it's like to know *exactly* what people are thinking when they see you. Rogue seems to believe I came here to purposely destroy her life, and Scott... Dear God, he's more confused than I am, and that's a pretty mean feat, you'll have to admit."

Jean felt pain in her palms and realized that she'd clenched her fists so hard she was nearly drawing blood. "Damn it, I didn't come here to rip anyone's life apart! I came here to find some way to keep my sanity, but I can't do that knowing how my simply being here is affecting everyone. I'm not leaving to make a point or as some ridiculous noble gesture. This is purely selfish. I'm leaving for myself."

Jean swiped angrily at the tears she felt running down her cheeks, and her voice was thick with them when she spoke. "I need to get away from here and find some peace or I'll never get my life back. I need you to believe that, Logan. I need at least one person who understands why I'm doing this."

Jean watched Logan push away from the door, felt his arms close around her and gratefully accepted the comfort he gave. She let the tears of frustrated helplessness fall to wet the shoulder of his soft flannel shirt. He rubbed her back and murmured an apology into her hair, letting her quietly cry until she could gather herself.

Crying actually made her feel a little better. She pulled back out of his arms and gave a teary chuckle as Logan wiped wet strands of hair from her cheeks. "What about your sessions with the Professor?"

"We're not stopping, and he's given me some self-study to do while I'm alone. Meditation, that type of thing."

Logan ran a hand along her hair in a comforting gesture. "Where will you be?"

Jean turned around and reached into the bedside table for a pad of paper and a pen. "The Professor is letting me use his hunting lodge in the Catskills," she replied as she scribbled an address down on the pad. "It's about two hours away, but he said he could come up a few times a week to work with me there."

Logan looked at the paper, then studied her carefully as he asked, "You want me to come with you?"

Jean worried her lip and shook her head. "No. I appreciate the offer, but I need a little time alone, just to sort things out. I asked the Professor not to tell anyone where I am. I... I'd love for you to visit, though, if you can."

Logan nodded, an understanding smile curving his lips. "Not a problem, darlin'. You give me a call when you feel up to having company."

Jean smiled tearily at Logan, grateful for the fact that he didn't push, that he seemed to instinctively know when to back off where she was concerned. It didn't matter if no one else understood. She'd been alone before; she could do it again. And a private cabin was a far cry from being huddled in a cave deep in the Canadian wilderness.

"I promise, I'll call. You can come up and we'll make stew out of whatever you hunt down, okay?"

Logan laughed. "Just like old times, huh?"

Jean grinned and nodded, feeling better with every second that took her closer to escaping this house and all the baggage she'd accumulated here that had nothing to do with the canvas bag on the bed. "Yep. Old times." She walked over and grabbed the handle of the bag, slung it over her shoulder and leaned up to kiss Logan on the cheek before she headed out the door.

She slipped down the stairs quietly, grateful for the resumption of afternoon classes that left the halls empty. A quiet, unobtrusive escape.

She heard something that drew her up short with her hand on the knob of the front door. Crazy that she could pick his voice out, even from this distance. Even crazier that she let herself be drawn toward the sound, slipping quietly down the hall to the open door of his classroom.

She peered around the door, saw him drawing a curve on the white erase board and then crossing through it with a straight line. His back was to her, so she could watch him unobserved for a second.

Just for a second. She promised herself that was it. Nothing more.

He wrote a pair of equations on the board, then turned to face the students. "Okay, so who can show me how to find the area enclosed by these two equations?"

Her eyes never left him as he singled out a student in the class and had them come up to the board. She stared at his profile as he watched the student begin drawing an integral sign and the difference of the two equations. Her eyes traced the lines of his face, suddenly recalling the vivid blue of his eyes from the memory she'd seen the previous night.

She didn't know if she would be seeing him again. She wanted to believe that Warren was right -- that she could have a place here no matter how the dust settled between Rogue and Scott. She was done assuming, though. She'd take things as they came.

Jean sent a silent goodbye to Scott with her mind and turned away from the door, leaving too soon to see the sudden turn of his head to stare at the doorway she'd vacated, stunned by the ghost of her quiet farewell.

~*~

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Disclaimer: All X-Men characters belong to Marvel and Fox; this piece of fan-written fiction intends no infringement on any copyrights.