Unspoken: Shatter Like Glass

Shatter Like Glass
by jenn

Rating: PG

Summary: Logan gets reactive. Jean gets proactive. They might need a new camper.

Timeline: Concurrent with "Beer and Pretzels"

Notes: I'm handing Jubilee over to Khaki. <g> She does her ten times better than I could.

Date: October 11, 2001

Logan was still munching on the last cookie as he stared at the door of the apartment, fingers curled around the slip of paper Jubilee had shoved into his hand with Warren Worthingwhatever's address. Not a huge surprise in location, and Logan still got a kick out of the look on the doorman's face when he'd walked into the lobby. Probably not his idea of an appropriate visitor for a resident. Logan knocked quickly at the door, and Jean was standing there almost immediately.

He had to take a minute to recognize the changes wrought in less than a week. Too thin, the knee-length black skirt and dark red sleeveless shirt emphasizing the pallor of her skin. The dark eyes were reddened and long fingers clenched rhythmically over bunches of her skirt. She'd looked better the first time he'd met her, and that was saying something. Shit, and he'd thought he had problems. He hadn't even thought about Jean. Shit. The sound of her voice on the phone downstairs hadn't given him any idea of the condition she was in.

"Jeannie," he said, and she seemed to shatter, taking the step that separated them and burying herself in his arms as if she wanted to disappear. A strange sound choked itself out of her throat, and her scent was thick with pain. Taking a breath, he tightened his arms around her. Every bone seemed to be starkly outlined through her skin; he thought he could break her if he wasn't careful. "Shit, baby, I should never have brought you here." To these people, to this school, to this fucked up situation. She'd had enough go wrong in her life.

She didn't say anything, but the fingers that were tangled in the front of his jacket clenched. Stroking back the long red hair, Logan moved them inside, kicking the door closed behind them. Nice place, he had to admit, glancing around with a practiced eye. The sort of place he suspected Jean had grown up, no matter her practiced attempts at playing down her background.

"God, I'm sorry--" she began to pull away, and Logan shook his head, keeping a hand on her arm as she looked around the room almost frantically. "I'm just--. It's--"

"S'okay." She must have lost about ten pounds, and damn, she'd been thin already. Spying the elegant couch, he pulled her over to it, pushing her down before her legs went out, and sat down beside her. The delicate hands seemed as if they'd shatter if he pressed too hard. "What happened?"

"You ever feel like your only purpose in life is to wreck other people's?" she whispered, staring down into her lap, a curtain of red hair hiding her expression from him.

"Yeah." The startled eyes jumped to him, and he saw a thousand questions in them. Touching her mouth with one hand, he shook his head. "Not important. You look worse than when I picked you up. What the *fuck* is that pretty boy doing to you?" This was what happened--he should never have let her leave the Mansion without him. Could have avoided so much fucking trouble. But oh no, had to get too damn fascinated with the untouchable girl and let his responsibilities slide. Well, shit. That was over.

Jean laughed softly and covered his hand with hers, looking down at it as if she'd never seen it before.

"Warren is fine. He's been--a gentleman." Jean shook her head and strands of red hair clung to the damp lines of her cheeks. "I'm sorry, Logan. It's--"

"My fault," he answered grimly. "I thought this guy'd watch out for you."

"Logan--"

"I promised I'd take care of you, and what the fuck do I do? Wander off to chase the first pretty brunette that crossed my path." He had to grin at himself. God, was he predictable. Stupid, predictable, and forgot all about what his one responsibility really was. Dismissing the images of Rogue from his mind, he fixed his gaze on Jean "You wanna get out of here?"

The relief on her face was unmistakable, and Logan wished he'd asked her this before she'd left for the Professor's oh-so-convenient hunting cabin. Think of the problems that could have been avoided.

Think of what he would have missed. Taking a breath, he pushed it aside. Keep with the matter at hand. Don't think about maybe. Over. It's over, whatever the hell it was.

"You don't want to leave Rogue, Logan."

"Trust me, Rogue would like nothing better than to see me across the country, and I'm guessing that the rest of the population of the Mansion would throw a goddamn party if I disappeared." Except Jubilee--he'd miss her, oddly enough. And he was out a hundred dollars too. He'd have to remember to mail it to her once they were back in Canada.

Jean's shock was almost comical.

"Logan, you do remember you're talking to a telepath, right? I know how you feel about her."

Well, yeah. Sighing, he leaned back and wondered what he could tell her. Then took a breath, meeting the worried eyes, and sighed again.

"Read my mind."

She frowned, but both hands lifted and he felt them lightly touch his temples. She'd done this a few times before--mostly during poker, once when she'd been attacked in a bathroom in a hick town he couldn't even remember the name of. Shutting his eyes, he felt the distinctive touch of her--light, gentle, like her scent, flowing through him briefly as he pushed the events of the last few days to the top of his mind. She gasped, and her hands withdrew.

"God--are you okay?"

It figured the first thing she'd ask was that--she'd always worried. Her hands were instantly on his face, and when he opened his eyes, the clinical look had taken over, as she looked over him like a particularly ill patient. She'd done that after his fights, too.

"Superhealer," he reminded her, and she shook her head firmly.

"You--God, Logan, you could have died," she said, voice shaking, and leaned back into the couch bonelessly. "I'm so sorry--I should have been there--shit, someone should have damn well *called* me."

She was on her feet, anger pouring off of her.

"Jeannie--"

"She took that kind of risk?" Logan blinked, startled, but Jean was steps beyond him. "After--doesn't she know you have a metal skeleton? In *water*, for God's sake? You--" Her face drained of color. "God, Logan. You could have drowned, because she couldn't keep her damned hands to herself--"

"Jeannie, cool it. It was--it was my fault. I knew what she could do--" How did this conversation get to this point?

"Spin that for someone else, Logan. She knew exactly what she was doing and she went ahead and did it anyway." Spinning, she stomped to what appeared to be a crystal decanter and poured two glasses of something a rich red-brown out. Thrusting a glass into his hand, she dropped down on the couch beside him. The liquid was very good brandy. Logan smiled a little as he took another drink. Better than the Professor's. "This is--God, Logan, this is almost funny. How'd we get mixed up in this crap?"

Logan had to laugh softly.

"Damn good question." Rogue, dark and as completely unattainable as any woman he'd ever met. He'd always liked the challenge. That had to be it. Shit, it had to be. But there was unattainable and there was Rogue, who was a category unto herself.

In a single graceful movement, Jean was on her feet, setting aside the remaining brandy.

"You're right. Let's get the hell out of here." She brushed the final tears away with a fisted hand, pushing her hair back and twisting it up in one of those female-only maneuvers that never ceased to amaze him. Then she paused, coming to a stop on the rug. "I can't leave without talking to Warren. He went to one of his warehouses--"

"I'll can come back in a couple of hours. That give you enough time?"

Jean nodded slowly, wrapping her arms around herself tightly, and Logan dismissed the memories of Rogue standing like that, just as frail. Tightening his jaw, he stood up, reaching for her. She was too tall, too thin, and the scent was all wrong--memories of the woman he wanted wouldn't quite disappear. But she didn't jerk away at least, and he knew Jean as well as he'd ever known anyone. Brushing a kiss across her hair, he lifted her head and met the wide brown eyes.

"Everything'll be fine." Her mouth tightened. Shit, she'd been alone on the road for eight months, then with him, but it took these people to break her. She didn't deserve this, and damned if he did either.

She nodded--shadows in the dark eyes that hadn't been there even when he'd picked her up that first time. Shit, Scott and Warren had a lot to answer for. Brushing his fingers along her face, he nodded and finished his brandy, going to the door. Pushing aside the knowledge of everything he was giving up if he left with Jean--but how much was it really? Rogue wanted Scott, when all was said and done. And a lot of things Logan could be, but he couldn't be second, not in her mind, not in her heart. It was all or nothing, and he'd rather having nothing.

He did wonder though, as he shut the door behind him, if she'd ever jump again.

~*~

There Was No Design by Jennifer Hallmark

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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.