Spectrum
by Eiluned
Ultraviolet | Violet | Indigo | Blue | Green | Yellow | Orange | Red | Infrared
Dates: 28 September 2000 – 14 March 2001
Archive: Please ask first.
Disclaimer: Marvel owns them. I just have my wicked way with them. :)
Rating: Explicit
Summary: Logan loses his sanity and Jean has to guide him back. Movieverse. Logan/Jean. 12,900 words.
Warnings: Explicit sexual content and some violence.
I remember when we could sleep on stones
Now we lie together In whispers and moans
When I was all messed up
And I heard opera in my head
Your love was a light bulb
Hanging over my bead.
U2, ‘Ultraviolet’ (from ‘Achtung Baby’)
–
FLASH
/I’m sitting in a chair./
FLASH
/red lights, blue lights, yellow lights/
FLASH
/painpainpainpainstopthepainstopthepain/
FLASH
Jean grabbed her temples and tipped forward, pressing her face into the mattress.
Everyone else in the room stared at each other for a second in silence. Logan shot across the bed about the time that Storm jumped out of her chair. “Jean! Jean, what’s the matter?” she asked, gently touching Jean’s shoulder.
Logan turned to Rogue, barely concealing his panic. “Go get the professor,” he ordered, and Rogue practically leapt off of the bed.
“Jean? Jean, can you hear me?” Ororo shook Jean carefully, “Jean, answer me!”
FLASH
/someone’sdrawingonmethatticklesstopwhyareyoudoingthis?/
FLASH
/waterclosingovermeIcan’tbreathecan’tbreatheI’mgonnadrown/
FLASH
FLASH
/A hospital chair; I’m sitting in a hospital chair. Blue light…/
FLASH
FLASH
FLASH
/Oh, my god, it’s Logan… he’s so still, just staring straight up…/
FLASH
FLASH
FLASH
FLASH
“Jean!”
Logan’s voice suddenly pierced through the fog and Jean sat straight up, eyes wild. She lashed out, but Logan caught her fists and pulled her close to him, whispering quietly to her. She gradually calmed down and broke into quiet sobs, her face buried in his shirt. Ororo gently smoothed Jean’s hair back from her face. “Are you all right?” she asked quietly.
Jean sat up and wiped her face. “I don’t know…”
“I got the professor…” Rogue said hesitantly from the door.
The rush of relief when Professor Xavier rolled into the room was almost tangible. He stopped in front of Jean and took her hands. “Jean, what happened?” he asked softly, his eyes going cloudy as they always did when he probed into someone’s mind.
/fear… terror… pain, so much pain…/
Charles jerked back suddenly, his eyes wide. He looked from Jean to Logan and back again. After a long moment of silence, Logan was a ball of impatience. “Well?” he barked, “What the hell was that?”
Professor Xavier gave him an infinitely patient look.. “I think that Jean picked up on some of your memories, Logan” he explained. “We know that you two have a psychic connection and it’s surprisingly strong. I didn’t think Jean’s abilities had developed enough to detect memories that are so deeply repressed. I can barely sense those memories myself.”
“What does that mean?” Jean asked, rubbing her temples.
Charles sighed, rubbing his own forehead. “I’m not sure, Jean.”
She nodded slowly and wiped her face again. Charles smiled at her. “You look like you need some rest. Why don’t I make you some tea?”
“That sounds good,” she replied quietly. She still hadn’t completely regained her clam. Fear still hummed through her like a live wire, leaving a metallic tang in her mouth.
She stood slowly, and when Logan reached out to her, she just shook her head. “I’m fine. I’ll be fine. Just give me a little while,” she said, and he nodded, clearly not happy.
–
Jean put her elbows on the counter and rested her head in her hands, watching the professor go about making tea. She hadn’t felt this much undirected anxiety since before she had come to the school. Her heart was still pounding and her skin prickled with dread. The teakettle’s whistle nearly sent her off of her stool.
Charles just smiled at her in his calm way and poured the boiling water into a mug. “That’s not chamomile, is it?” she asked.
He shook his head and brought the mug to her. “Of course not. I know you hate chamomile. That’s one of the perks of being psychic. It’s Sleepytime.”
She grinned at him. “You sound silly saying that.”
He feigned ignorance. “Saying what?”
“Sleepytime,” she finished the old joke and they both laughed softly.
“When did that joke start?” Charles asked, folding his hands in his lap.
“Right after you found me. I couldn’t sleep because I kept hearing everyone else’s thoughts. You made me tea and taught me how to shield my mind,” she said, smiling to herself.
The smile slowly disappeared and she idly swirled the teabag around in the mug, staring into the darkening water. She could feel the professor staring at her, but she wanted to avoid talking for a while. She needed some more time to work her emotions out, to examine each of them and discover its root.
“What did you see, Jean?” Charles finally asked when she tossed the teabag in the garbage.
She squeezed an inordinately large amount of honey into her tea and stirred it in. “I don’t know if I can describe it. Um…” she paused, flustered by the memories. “I was… sitting in a chair. It was one of those chairs you see in hospital rooms, like the ones we have in the sick bay. And the lights… they kept changing colors, red to blue to yellow. And then there was just pain. Horrible, horrible pain. I felt like I couldn’t stand it anymore. I just wanted to die to make the pain stop. And then I could feel someone drawing on my skin, but I couldn’t see anything. Everything flashed and then water was closing over me and I thought I would drown and I was so afraid, Professor.” she started to cry again. “And then I was back in the hospital chair and the light was blue and I could see Logan lying there, staring at the ceiling. He was so still, as if he were dead.”
She wiped the tears away again and blew over the surface of her tea, taking a sip. “I’ve never felt anything like that before,” she whispered. “I’ve never been so afraid. And that’s what Logan felt…”
Charles touched her arm, giving her comfort. “I think you should get some sleep. I’ll speak with Logan. Perhaps he has had some new memories surface…”
Rogue’s piercing scream interrupted him mid-sentence. They looked at each other for a second. “Something’s wrong with Logan,” she said and ran out of the kitchen, her full mug shattering on the tile.
End Ultraviolet
–
Rogue’s scream was still echoing through the cavernous halls of the mansion. Jean nearly collided with a student at a dead run and barely missed falling on her face. She could hear Professor Xavier calling out to her, but she couldn’t stop. She could feel Logan in her mind, and something was terribly wrong.
She shouldered the door to the bedroom open and it slammed into the wall. Rogue had backed away from the bed, her hands covering her mouth. Storm was halfway out of her armchair. Logan was flat on his back on the bed, his body jerking violently. “Oh, my god, he’s having a seizure,” Jean said, more to herself than to Rogue or Storm.
Ororo stepped toward the bed and started to touch Logan’s shoulder. “Don’t!” Jean shouted. “He might attack you.”
Storm stopped in her tracks, hands hovering over Logan. “What do we do?” she asked, her voice showing just how frightened she was.
“Bring me the medical kit from the hall cupboard now,” Jean ordered, and Storm ran out of the room
Jean crawled up onto the bed and put her hand on Logan’s chest, closing her eyes. “Jean! Won’t he hurt you?” Rogue asked.
Jean shook her head. She somehow knew that he wouldn’t hurt her. She tried to slide into his mind to calm him down, but the maelstrom of memories and emotions nearly suffocated her. Jean jerked back, falling onto her hands, and just as suddenly as the convulsions had started, they stopped.
Charles wheeled into the room with Ororo right behind him. “What happened?” he asked, immediately tasting the fear permeating the room.
Jean didn’t say anything; she just crawled back over Logan. He was as still as the dead and stared sightlessly at the ceiling. “Oh, my god. Logan,” she whispered, feeling for a pulse in his neck, “Logan, can you hear me?”
His pulse was thready and slow, but he was alive. “Do you need the kit, Jean?” Storm asked.
Jean nodded and took the box, cracking it open immediately. She pulled out a tiny penlight and clicked it on, shining it across his eyes one at a time. “His pupils are responsive and his breathing sounds all right, but his pulse is a little too slow for my comfort” she murmured. “We need to get him down to the sick bay. I’ll run some tests and try to find out what happened,” she announced.
“I’ll contact someone to help you. I don’t think that you’ll be able to do everything,” Charles said, closing his eyes.
“Professor…”
His eyes snapped open. “Jean, don’t argue. You’re too personally involved in this. We’ll have a friend of mine examine him and then we’ll see what happens. Agreed?” he said sharply.
Stung, Jean just nodded.
–
Professor Xavier’s friend arrived at the mansion within fifteen minutes. Jean had managed to get the IV line in Logan’s arm without provoking an attack, but that had worried her more. He hadn’t flinched when the needle pierced his skin; there had been no reaction at all.
Jean looked up when the doors slid open and Charles rolled into the sick bay trailed by Storm and a woman Jean had never met before. She was about the same height as Storm, maybe five years older than Jean, with long, dark hair pulled into a loose braid and very fair skin. She wore a white lab coat over a pair of blue jeans and a sweater. “Jean, this is Dr. Autumn Millar. She’s a internist. Autumn, this is Dr. Jean Grey,” he said.
Dr. Millar stepped forward and shook Jean’s hand, smiling. “Nice to meet you. Charles has talked about you quite a bit,” she said, her accent Scottish. “Where’s your patient?” she glanced around the spartan grey room, “Oh, there he is.”
She stepped around Jean and walked to the bed, stopping beside Logan’s head. “Can you tell me what happened?” she asked quietly.
“We were all talking, and then he just gasped, and his eyes went wide,” Storm told her. “He fell onto his back and started convulsing. Then, Jean… Dr. Grey came into the room and touched him and he stopped.”
Jean added, “He’s been unresponsive since then. His pupils are reactive and his breathing is fine. His pulse was a little slow and irregular, but I stabilized it. I put an IV line in, but I was waiting for you to get here before giving him any drugs.”
Dr. Millar nodded thoughtfully. “No history of epilepsy?” she asked, cracking her knuckles.
“Not as far as we know, Dr. Millar.”
She waved a hand at Jean. “Oh, call me Autumn. Dr. Millar is too damned formal.”
Autumn suddenly went stock still with her hands hovering over Logan’s body. Jean moved beside the professor. “What’s she doing?” she whispered.
“Autumn is a mutant. She can diagnose illnesses through a form of telepathy, and many times can repair internal damage through telekinesis,” he answered.
“She wasn’t at the school, was she?”
“No. I only met her a few years ago. She had learned to control her powers on her own, and she concealed them from everyone around her. None of her colleagues know that she is a mutant. They just know that her skills at diagnosis are remarkable.”
After a few minutes of silence, Autumn came out of her trance and shook her head. Charles moved forward. “What did you see?” he asked.
“A lot of metal. What the hell happened to this man?” she said, then shook her head. “I’m sure it’s a long story. I couldn’t find anything physically wrong with him. He’s as healthy as a horse, but there does seem to be an excess of electrical activity in his brain, centered mostly in his memory. I don’t think it’s neurological, though. It might be a psychic problem, and if it’s a psychic problem, there’s nothing I can do.”
Charles nodded slowly, absorbing the information. “I can’t help but think that he’s had a memory burst.”
“What do you mean?”
“Logan is missing most of his past. He only has memories from the past several years. It’s quite possible that all of his past has suddenly flooded his conscious mind.”
Jean nodded slowly. It made sense. “I must have picked up on the beginnings of the burst,” she said. “He’s lost in his memories. Professor, do you think you can help him?”
Charles regarded her very seriously. “I don’t know if he will respond to me, Jean, but I’ll try. I want you to stay very close by, in case something goes wrong.”
Jean lowered the bed so that Professor Xavier could reach Logan easily. Charles touched Logan’s temples and closed his eyes. Jean pulled a chair over and unobtrusively slipped into the professor’s stream of consciousness.
FLASH
FLASH
FLASH
/fearconfusionterrorpainpainpain/
FLASH
FLASH
*Logan. Logan, it’s Professor Xavier. Can you understand me?*
/getoutgetoutgetoutgetout/
*Jean, I don’t think I can hold on to his thoughts. They’re moving too quickly.*
*Break loose. Don’t hurt yourself, Professor.*
Charles broke the connection to Logan and opened his eyes. “He won’t let me in.”
Autumn pushed away from the wall that she had been leaning against. “This isn’t exactly my field of expertise, but may I make an observation? This man is very apprehensive. Every part of his body was just humming with tension. If he’s lost in his own mind, he’s going to be afraid and he’s not going to let just anybody in. Who does he really trust here?”
Jean looked at Dr. Millar. “I guess that would be me. I’m the closest to him.”
Autumn nodded. “And it helps that you’re a telepath. Maybe you should try.”
“I agree with Autumn,” Charles said. “You and Logan already have a psychic connection. It might ease some of his tension to feel your presence.”
Jean leaned back in her chair, biting her bottom lip. The thought of swimming through the terrifying whirlpool of pain again made her throat clench, but she needed to help Logan. She was the only one who could.
“I’ll do whatever it takes to get Logan back.”
End Violet (Spectrum 2)
–
Jean automatically ate her breakfast, but the food tasted like sawdust. Her stomach was knotted into lumps of apprehension and she was afraid that swallowing would make her choke. She couldn’t remember ever being this nervous. She could stand up in front of a Senate committee and argue for the future of her kind without batting an eye, yet she was practically beside herself with fear at the thought of finding Logan in his own mind. Professor Xavier had ordered her to sleep, but her eyes just wouldn’t close. She spent most of the night staring at the ceiling.
Ororo sat down beside her. “Are you going to eat that French toast, or just stare at it all morning?” she teased lightly.
Jean realized that she had been staring at her half eaten food for god knows how long. “I’m reserving my concentration for more serious matters,” she replied, going for light-hearted; it came out quite a bit heavier than she had intended.
Storm took her free hand and squeezed it. “I wanted you to know that you have my support, Jean. If anyone can get Logan back, it’s you,” she said.
Jean tried to smile, but it fell apart and she ended up in tears again. “Christ!” she exclaimed. “I can’t go ten minutes without crying. What the hell is wrong with me?”
Ororo pulled her chair closer and put an arm around Jean’s shoulder. “Jean, you have every right to cry. So much has happened…”
“I hate crying. It makes me feel weak.”
“You’re not weak, ” Storm chided. “You’re one of the strongest people I know. You’ve had to deal with so much lately, Jean.”
Jean stared up at the ceiling, willing the tears on her cheeks to evaporate. “I’m sick of having to deal with it. Sometimes I just want to run away. I want to make it all go away,” she looked back down at her friend. “But it won’t. I have to deal with it, don’t I?”
Storm didn’t say anything. “I can’t spend my time crying, Ororo,” Jean said. “I have too much responsibility.”
Ororo smiled. “I think that when you bring Logan back, you two should take a vacation.”
Jean snorted. “He’d probably want to take me to some god-forsaken hole in the Canadian Rockies just so I can have this particular kind of beer.”
Storm shrugged. “I was thinking more along the lines of Tahiti.”
Jean smiled for the first time in what felt like years. “Tahiti would be nice.”
“You really love him. I can see it in your eyes. I just can’t understand why you try to deny it to yourself,” Ororo said.
Jean wrinkled her brow. “I’m not denying it to myself,” she said darkly. “I’m denying it to him. But you’re right. I do love him. I hope he knows that.”
“He does. He’s known it for years.”
“I think I’ve been denying it because he’s not Scott,” Jean mused. “I was so used to being with Scott that he became the ideal. Logan is the complete opposite of Scott, but I need him even more than I needed Scott.”
Storm leaned back in her chair. “The world balances itself. You’re responsible, maybe Logan needs that. He’s wild, and you need that.”
Jean nodded. “I just hope I can bring him back.”
“Jean, are you ready?”
The two women looked up to see Professor Xavier in the doorway. Jean pushed her plate away and stood up. “I’m ready.”
–
“I had some of the boys bring your armchair down,” Charles said as they entered the sickbay. “I wasn’t sure how long you would be in there, but I wanted you to be comfortable.”
“Thank you, Professor.”
Jean looked around the room. The lights were softer, but her dark green chair still looked out of place. “Ah, Dr. Grey,” Autumn said, stepping out of the electronics room. “I’ve got him hooked up to the whole lot of monitors. If anything happens, Charles here will let you know so you can pull back immediately. I want to hook you up to an EKG, just as a precaution.”
Jean nodded and let the doctor paste electrodes on her torso. Charles was very quiet, and Jean finally looked down at him. “Are you all right, Professor?” she asked.
“I think I should be asking you that question, Jean,” he replied. “Are you going to be able to do this?”
Jean nodded, her mouth set in a resolved line. “I will. I have to bring him back.”
Charles gave her a small smile. “I know that you can. I have complete confidence in you.”
Jean finally looked at Logan, and her breath left her in a whoosh. It looked as if his soul had left him completely and she was just seeing the shell of his body. He still stared straight up, not blinking. Fluid dripped from a bag into his IV.
“I’ve been injecting a nutrient solution and an anti-seizure drug every hour,” Autumn said, straightening the tubes. “Good luck, Dr Grey.”
Jean nodded her thanks and steeled herself, making sure she had a firm grip on reality. She knew how easy it could be to get lost in someone else’s memories. Luckily, she’d had Professor Xavier to teach her. She sat down in her armchair and gazed down at Logan, resting her hands on the bed beside his head. “Logan,” she whispered. “I’m going to help you find your way. Don’t fight me, all right?”
And she slipped into his mind.
–
The first flash of recognition from Logan was brilliant. Jean winced, but kept moving forward. She was being buffeted by disjointed thoughts and emotions in such a quick succession that she thought she might have to pull back. ‘No!’ she told herself. ‘If you do that, you could lose Logan forever.’
A sudden image flashed in her mind. /I’m lying on a bed of pearls…/ Just as quickly, it was gone, and replaced by the image of a tall oak tree, towering toward the sky. Its trunk was so thick that she wouldn’t have been able to reach a quarter of the way around it. Its top disappeared into the pregnant grey clouds. As Jean watched, a door opened in the trunk and radiant golden light shined out into the darkness where she was. ‘Think symbolically, Jean,’ she thought. ‘This must be the entrance to his memories.’
When she took a step forward, the tree morphed into a prison surrounded by a concrete wall. The doorway was gone, as was the sense of Logan’s recognition of her. She would have to scale the wall to get inside.
Jean stepped up to the wall and found a foothold. It was going to be a hard climb… she just hoped she wouldn’t fall on the way up.
End Indigo (Spectrum 3)
–
The wall was almost completely sheer, but Jean managed to find a few hand- and footholds. She pulled herself up slowly and carefully; she had no idea if a fall would really hurt her in this place. She didn’t want to find out.
The top of the wall was lined with razor wire that was coiled to nearly her height and extended infinitely in every direction. It was too tightly coiled for her to crawl through. “Damn,” she said to herself. “How am I going to get in there?”
A blinding white light suddenly shone on her. Jean instinctively dropped to a crouch and shielded her eyes. The search light followed her down and bore into her like a pair of eyes. *Logan!* she shouted with her mind. *It’s me! Please, let me in!*
The light seemed to think about it. *Please! It’s Jean! Logan, let me in!* she repeated.
The razor wire suddenly bent and a hole just large enough for her to crawl through opened. Not thinking twice, she fell to her hands and knees and slipped through the gap. As soon as she was through, the wall underneath her suddenly disappeared and she was falling through a black void. Nothingness, complete and utter nothingness. She couldn’t see, she couldn’t feel, she couldn’t hear anything. “Oh, god!” she cried, clenching her eyes shut.
When Jean opened her eyes again, she was in the ready room in the mansion. She instinctively threw her arms out to slow her fall, but she wasn’t moving. She was just standing in the ready room. She swallowed hard and tried to calm her racing heart. The basement of the mansion was deathly quiet and as empty as a tomb, so the sudden sound of bare feet slapping on tile startled her completely. She ducked into a shadowed alcove and waited.
Logan burst into the room and slowed to a stop, looking around. “What the hell is this place?” he said to himself, then froze and sniffed the air.
Jean knew what he was doing. Logan’s senses were so highly developed that he could pick her out of a room pull of people by her scent. He could smell her. She waited for him to call her out.
He turned his head from side to side, finally centering on her location. “Jean?” he asked tentatively, clearly sounding confused.
Jean took a deep breath and stepped out of her hiding place. “Logan, it’s me.”
Logan immediately went into a defensive position. “What’re you doing here? I just left you in the lab…” he paused, his forehead wrinkling. “Wait, I don’t know your name yet…”
Jean stepped toward him slowly. “Logan, you really aren’t here. This is a memory,” she said.
“What?”
“You’re trapped in your memories. I’m here to help you out.”
He shook his head. “How can anyone get trapped in their own mind? I don’t believe you.”
“Logan, I wouldn’t lie to you. This is a memory. Your conscious mind recognizes me and it’s telling your unconscious mind who I am,” she explained on the fly, hoping that she was right.
He still looked at her suspiciously. “So, we’re in my unconscious mind right now…”
Jean nodded, stepping a little closer to him. “And this place isn’t real,” he continued, closing the distance between them.
“Not in the usual sense of the word,” she said, starting to get a little dizzy from his closeness; it was as if he were taking all of her breath and replacing it with his own.
He nodded and suddenly kissed her. Jean gasped in surprise and Logan slid his tongue smoothly into her mouth, stroking hers. His arms went around her waist and pulled her body close to his, rubbing his hips against her. Jean moaned softly and wrapped her arms around his shoulders, kissing his back languidly. It felt so good to be able to do this again, to feel him against her. She pushed back against him, letting the growing hardness between his legs slide over her belly. He felt hot, burning her even through the layers of their clothes.
Logan slowly pulled away. “If this place isn’t real, then how come I can feel that?” he asked, rubbing his temple against her cheek.
Jean sighed. “I don’t know, Logan. I guess you’ve made it real for yourself, and when I slipped into your mind, it became real for me, too,” she answered.
He pressed his lips together. “Why did you come into my mind? I’m still not clear on that.”
“You’re in some kind of catatonic state. You don’t move, you don’t blink… you just stare. We’re feeding you through an IV,” she said quietly. “Professor Xavier tried to enter your mind, but you wouldn’t let him. You almost didn’t let me in.”
Logan grinned at her. “I’m glad I did, darlin’.”
Jean smiled and rested her head on his shoulder. She felt Logan give her a funny look. “You seem awfully amorous. I could’ve killed you a minute ago… wait. That’s just a memory,” he pulled back and looked at her suspiciously. “So, I’m assuming that we…”
“You already know, Logan. They’re your memories. You just have to access them,” Jean said, pulling away and sitting on a bench.
He stared at the floor for a long moment, then looked back up at her in surprise. “Scott… he died, and… oh, shit.”
“What is it?”
He gave her a little smile. “It’s just weird. I’m remembering things that happen in the future,” he said. “Or is it the future?”
“Don’t confuse yourself too much, Logan,” she teased.
He sat down beside her. “So, how do I get myself out of the catatonic thing? I imagine I miss touching you in the real world.”
Jean smiled to herself. ‘I miss it, too,’ she thought. ‘I must have been crazy to deny it.’ “I think that you need to face your memories of the past. When you find out who you really are, maybe you’ll come out of this.”
He nodded, running his fingers over the back of her hand. “That makes sense.”
Jean let her eyes slip shut for a moment, and the touch suddenly went away. She opened them to find herself in a river of random memories. If she concentrated, she could pick out a few. The first time they made love… she touched the memory and was filled with his pleasure and pain. ‘Pain?’ she thought. She delved a little deeper and realized that he was hurting for her. He loved her so deeply, and he knew that she loved him. He just couldn’t figure out why she kept pushing him away. The catharsis of finally being able to love her the way he needed nearly overwhelmed her. She felt tears flowing freely down her cheeks and she closed her eyes, wiping them away. When she opened them again, she found herself in the void.
End Blue (Spectrum 4)
–
The blackness was so complete, so suffocating that Jean couldn’t help wondering if she had died. Panic started to edge into her consciousness and she fought to control her breathing. The last thing she needed was to upset Logan more. She took a few calming breaths and focused herself again. ‘I will not panic,’ she thought.
She blinked and she was suddenly in a forest. Evergreens towered over her head. It was dark and a bit foggy, and a swollen full moon cast a little light into the forest. The whole scene reminded her of something out of an old vampire movie. She took a few steps forward tentatively. If this scene was from Logan’s past, she was more than likely in the Canadian Rockies. She couldn’t be sure that the wild animals in this place were harmless, but the wild animal she was most concerned about was Logan.
Jean thought back about what Logan had told her of his past. He woke up and found himself in a forest… she wondered if she was in that memory. She heard the rustle in the underbrush ahead of her a split second too late. A large, dark figure rose out of the bushes and stalked toward her, regarding her with a predator’s eye. His clothing was ripped practically to shreds and looked like it might have been a prison uniform. Black hair fell even more wildly around his face and he was in dire need of a razor.
“Logan,” she said quietly, unsure of his mental state.
His eyes nearly glowed and Jean took a cautious step back. “Wolverine,” he growled and lunged for her.
Wolverine pushed her back against a tree, pinning her in place with his body. Jean felt a guilty little thrill of arousal at the situation, and she tried to mask it. He stared at her for a long moment, sniffing the air, and she immediately realized what he was thinking. This Wolverine was running on pure instinct, and his instincts were telling him to mate.
He ducked his head and slowly ran his tongue up the side of her neck to her jaw, licking at the sensitive patch of skin under her ear. Jean shuddered and swallowed the moan that threatened to come out. Raising his head, Wolverine licked his lips and leaned very close to her face, and Jean knew that she was lost.
Wolverine moved so quickly that Jean barely had time to comprehend the motion before she was flat on her back. He nudged her knees with his and she immediately parted her legs. When he settled down onto her, she tentatively touched his rough cheek. “Do you know who I am?” she asked softly.
He looked confused, as if he knew her but couldn’t quite place her face. He just grunted and pressed his groin tightly against hers. Jean gasped when his hard cock pushed against her clit, and she arched up under him.
Wolverine lifted himself up on one elbow and yanked her skirt up around her waist. Her panties just seemed to irritate him, and without warning, he popped a claw and sliced them open at the crotch. Jean’s heart nearly stopped from fear, but another surge of hot desire arced through her. This man was no more than an animal right now, and he was going to take her in precisely that manner. She shivered at the thought.
He suddenly attacked her mouth, thrusting his tongue against hers roughly. His free hand pulled her blouse open and cupped her breast, squeezing it, then slid down her stomach and between her legs. She moaned when his long fingers brushed over her clit, and two of them slid inside of her. She arched up against him, rubbing her breasts against his chest. He groaned deep in his throat and pulled his fingers out, slicking them over her clit. Jean kissed him furiously, trying to hold back the whimpers. If he kept doing this, she was going to come…
Wolverine suddenly lifted himself up and she felt him shoving his tattered pants down his hips. She wrapped her legs around his waist and leaned up to bite at his nipples. She had never felt this much primal lust in her life. She didn’t care that the forest litter was digging into her back. She just needed Wolverine to fuck her right now.
He forced her down flat and nipped at her throat. He didn’t bother with teasing; he just plunged into her, pushing until every inch of his cock was inside. Jean cried out, her gasp echoing in the silent forest. She slid her hands down and grabbed his ass, encouraging him. It felt like his thrusts were going to push her through the ground, and it felt so fucking good to her. She moved her hips with his, slamming them together forcefully.
Wolverine pushed himself up onto his knees and yanked her hips up onto his muscular thighs, driving into her from a different angle. Jean had to bite her lip to keep from screaming. This was the perfect angle, and she felt herself plummeting toward orgasm with every thrust. He stared down at her, fire burning in his eyes and his jaw slack, panting with every lunge. He was gripping her hips so hard she was sure he would leave bruises. She grabbed his biceps and arched her back and he suddenly shifted her so that her clit ground against the coarse hair at his groin.
It was as if a star went supernova inside of her body. She couldn’t hold back this scream, and it filled the forest. “Ah, yeah,” Wolverine hissed. “Come for me.”
Jean’s entire body convulsed and she fought to gasp in a breath. She had never come this hard in her life; it was as if her soul was turning itself inside out. Tears were streaming down her cheeks when her orgasm finally subsided. The higher-pitched echoes of her cries blended with Wolverine’s low moans, the sounds bouncing off of the silent trees. Her orgasm-fogged brain barely registered the fact that he had a particularly odd look on his face.
“Jean?” he whispered, then pressed deep into her and went absolutely still.
She could actually feel the first spurt of semen inside of her, could feel his cock pulse against the walls of her sex. “Oh, god,” he moaned, burying his face in her neck, “Jean, Jean, Jean, Jean…”
He came for what seemed like an eternity, then collapsed, rolling to his back and taking her with him.
*Jean, are you all right? Your heart rate just skyrocketed.*
Professor Xavier’s voice echoed in her mind and Jean nearly laughed. *I’m fine, Professor.*
Jean laid her head on Logan’s shoulder and listened to his heart pound, waiting for her breathing to slow. Her body still tingled from her orgasm and the psychic connection between them sang. Slowly, fear and confusion crept in around the edges of his consciousness, and she curled more tightly into him.
“Jean… I don’t understand what’s goin’ on,” Logan said quietly. “You shouldn’t be here. I shouldn’t know who you are.”
She gazed into the darkness of the forest around them. “Do you remember why I’m here?” she asked.
She could feel him frown. “Sorta… I think I’m lost in my own head,” he answered.
Jean smiled, lightly kissing the center of his chest. “Something like that. What is this place?”
“Wood Buffalo National Park, in Canada. This is where I woke up,” he said quietly, stroking her back. “I didn’t remember anything about myself, except for the name Logan. I don’t even know if that’s my real name. I just got used to it. Wolverine was on my dog tags.
“I wasn’t a man when I woke up. I felt like an animal. I could barely speak. After a while living out here, I smelled humans in the forest. I tracked them,” he cleared his throat. “They took me back to their cabin after I tried to attack them.”
“Who were they?” Jean asked.
“James and Heather Hudson. He worked for the Canadian government. I woke up tied to a bed and my claws popped. I didn’t even know that I had the damned things. I cut through the rope and into myself, and I watched the wounds heal. I was scared. I haven’t been that afraid since then. I didn’t know who I was or what the hell was wrong with me. I felt like a freak.
“One of the first things I did was try to kill myself.”
Jean bit her lip and pressed her face against his neck. Logan barely hinted at his past suicide attempts, but she had always known about them. She could feel the deep depression that blanketed his soul; he just hid it well behind his tough-guy mask.
“I came back out here and cut my wrists with my claws, right on this spot. Cut ‘em all the way to the bone. They just healed up. Didn’t even leave a goddamned scar. I tried everything I could think of for years, but I just couldn’t die,” he continued, his voice dropping into an emotionless monotone.
Jean pushed herself up slowly, tugging her skirt down and sitting beside him. “What happened before you woke up?” she asked.
Logan sat up suddenly. “Why the hell do you want t’know?” he snapped.
Jean kept her calm, staring him straight in the eye. “You need to know, Logan…”
“I can’t fuckin’ remember.”
“Yes, you can. It’s all here,” she said, motioning around, “In your mind. You can remember it; you just have to try.”
He leaned very close to her face, his eyes dangerously angry. “Maybe I don’t wanna try,” he sneered. “Did you ever think of that? Maybe I don’t wanna delve into my past. Maybe I forgot everything for a reason.”
Jean felt her cool slipping but tried valiantly to hold onto it. “Logan, if you don’t try, you’ll never get out of this place…”
“So fuckin’ what?”
That was the straw that broke the camel’s back. “You are a coward,” she snapped.
Logan looked incredulous. “What did you just say to me?”
“You heard me. You’re a goddamned coward. You refuse to stand up and face your past. You would rather stick your head in the sand and hide than fight…”
“I’ll fight anything that faces me.”
“Don’t give me that bravado bullshit. You won’t fight anything because you’re too damned afraid to fight the one thing that needs it the most: yourself. Your past,” she stood up and glared at him. “You think you’re so fucking brave, but you won’t even try to find out who you are. Well, congratulations. You are abandoning everything, including Rogue and me. What bravery.”
Jean turned and stalked off into the forest.
End Green (Spectrum 5)
–
Jean didn’t care where she was going. Her chest was tight with anger and sadness, clenching so tightly that she had to gasp for breath. ‘Why the hell does Logan have to be so stubborn? Doesn’t he realize that if he doesn’t remember, he might never wake up?’ she thought furiously.
No matter how infuriated she was with him, the thought of never being about to talk to him again made her heart ache. She slowed down when hot tears of frustration blinded her. The forest blurred and she stopped, pressing her palms against her eyes. The whole situation made her head hurt. Arguing with Logan could be like arguing with a brick wall. She had to find some way of convincing him…
Jean reacted instinctively when a hand grabbed her arm, bringing her elbow back hard. She connected solidly, but the hand didn’t let go. It tightened its grip and spun her around, and she found herself pressed against Logan, his arms wrapped tightly around her. “Let me go!” she shouted, trying to twist away from him
She struggled, but Logan was too quick for her and he caught her other arm, pinning both to her sides. “Jean, stop…”
“Logan, let me go!” she repeated, fighting his grip.
“Hold still,” he said sharply and Jean stopped, glaring up at him.
“What do you want, Logan? If you aren’t going to try, there is no need for me to be here. I don’t know why I bothered in the first place.”
*Jean, remember that you’re dealing with both part’s of Logan’s mind. The part that is frightened is going to come to the fore.*
Jean jumped in surprise. *Professor… you’ve been listening in?*
*Only since I sensed you becoming angry.*
Logan looked more hurt and vulnerable than she had ever seen him, and she felt like a complete ass. “I’m sorry,” he whispered.
“Logan, don’t apologize. I shouldn’t have gotten so upset at you,” she said softly. “I just couldn’t… I couldn’t deal with the thought of losing you, too.”
Logan wiped the tears from her cheeks and gave her a weak smile. “I wanna try, Jeannie.”
Jean smoothed his dark hair back and kissed him on his cheek. She let her arms slip around his waist when he pulled her mouth to his and began kissing her passionately. “I don’t know if I can do this,” he whispered between kisses, cupping her head in his huge hands.
“I’ll be with you, Logan,” Jean said.
“I’ll need your strength…”
Jean looked him in the eyes. “You’ll have everything you need.”
He kissed her again, a long, lingering kiss that made her heart pound. “I’m ready,” he said resolutely.
*Be careful, Jean. We’ll be monitoring the both of you.*
*I will, Professor.*
And she was suddenly inside of his body, looking through his eyes, feeling what he was feeling. A lab… he was in some sort of laboratory. The lighting was an evil red color, casting devilish shadows around the room. When he tried to sit up, he realized that he was tied to a metal table. He tugged at the metal cuffs around his wrists, but they wouldn’t give. “Dammit,” he muttered.
His sides ached, as if someone had kicked him in the ribs a few times. He vaguely remembered a couple of men surprising him out at his cabin. They’d beaten the shit out of him and… everything was fuzzy after that. He must have gotten knocked out.
He lifted his head to get a better look at the room and noticed that someone had drawn all over him. Black lines traced every bone in his body, and his apprehension and irritation began to give way to fear. What the hell was this place?
A brilliant white spotlight clicked on and he clamped his eyes shut. Blue afterimages played on the back of his lids for a few seconds, and he squinted his eyes open. A man (at least, he thought it was a man) in a contamination suit hovered over him with a nasty-looking syringe. The masked person wrapped an elastic band around his bicep and thumped the veins in his right arm. “Who the hell are you?” he growled, but his captor didn’t reply.
The needle was jammed into his arm and he cursed in pain. The blood in his veins ran icy cold, slowly spreading over his whole body. Another person walked up and set to work at a small bench. He could hear the clatter of metal, but his brain was growing hazy, as if he were walking through a thick fog and couldn’t see farther than a few feet in front of his face. He felt like going to sleep, just dozing off…
–
Cutting… biting pain… Something was wrong with his head. He couldn’t think clearly, or even remember who or where he was. Another prick of pain in his left arm… he forced his eyes open and immediately wished that he’d kept them closed. The whole scene was surreal, like something out of an acid flashback. Thin plastic tubes protruded from his skin. They were scattered over his entire body, down both arms and legs, across his ribs and collarbone… he could even feel them on his scalp.
“We’ll put the tubes on his back once we get him into the tank. Start inserting the ad…”
Blackness closed in on him again.
–
Coming to consciousness felt like swimming through murky red water. He could hear voices around him, but couldn’t make out what was being said. Pain dominated his thoughts. His whole body felt as if it were on fire. Flashes of light came to his eyes… he could make out the figure of a man standing beside his torture-bed. “Well, let’s see how he fares,” the man said, his voice distorted.
“Dammit, Professor, this had better work. He’d better not die on us. A lot of money went into this project…” another man’s voice faded out for a moment.
“It will work, Hines. Mr. Logan is a tough one.”
The pain was excruciating, so much so that he nearly blacked out again. He wouldn’t let himself, though. He had to stay alert and find a way out of this place.
“Doctor, the anesthetic doesn’t seem to be working. Should I administer another dose?”
“Double it. His metabolism must be higher than normal.”
A masked person was back with another huge syringe. He clenched his teeth when the needle pierced the skin of his arm. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t stay awake this time. Whatever drug was in that syringe was seriously powerful.
–
“…strange bone structure…”
“…forearms…”
“…can’t bond the adamantium…”
“…surgically…”
He was being moved, but he couldn’t fight it. His body just wouldn’t obey his brain. He could feel himself staring up; he knew his eyes were open, but he couldn’t see anything.
“…awake…”
“…mask on him. I want him out…”
Someone forced his mouth open and slid a tube down his throat. His body was so limp that he couldn’t even gag. Cold, metallic air was pumped into his lungs and his mind shut down.
–
Faint sensations broke through the haze… he was underwater? No, it didn’t feel like water. This liquid made his skin tingle in a way that water never had. Water… his eyes shot open and he tried to sit up, fear of drowning taking over his thought processes.
“…more anesthetic…” the voices were garbled now.
“…goddammit, I wanted him out…”
“…anesthetic isn’t affecting him normally…”
His lungs filled with metallic air again and he blacked out.
–
/painpainpainohmygodithurts/
Something was going into him, oozing into every pore. He opened his eyes and realized that he was still submersed in the liquid, only this time it was burning his skin. His eyes stung, but he couldn’t shut them. Needles stuck out of the tubes in his skin, and they were _melting_, disappearing into his body. He tried to scream, but the tube choked him. He gratefully passed out again.
–
The next time he was able to open his eyes, the needles were gone, making him wonder if it had all been a nightmare. No, he was still under water with the breathing tube in his throat. Why was he still here? Movement caught his eye and he watched a distorted figure move beside his tank. A hand holding something metallic dipped into the liquid. With horror, he realized that the hand held a scalpel. He wanted to shout that he wasn’t numb, to stop hurting him, to die and go to hell, but the tube choked him again. All he could do was watch as the scalpel sliced into his forearm, laying the skin open.
Metal melting in his arms… memories gone or distorted… screaming underwater… blood running from his hands… clinking glasses…
*JEAN!*
–
Jean came awake with a scream, falling out of her chair and onto the floor. Someone knelt beside her and pushed a wastebasket into her hands. She coughed for a second, then threw up violently. Her companion held her hair back and rubbed her shoulder until the heaves finally passed.
“Are ya all right?”
Jean looked up to see Dr. Millar kneeling beside her, holding a washcloth. Professor Xavier was right behind the doctor, and they both looked terrified. “I’m fine,” Jean tried to croak, but her throat was raw from vomiting.
Dr. Millar quickly retrieved a glass of water from a counter and handed it to Jean. The cool liquid was like nectar, soothing her tortured throat. She swished some around in her mouth and spit it into the trash can. “I’ll get rid of this,” Autumn said, wrinkling her nose.
She disappeared into the bathroom and Jean weakly pulled herself back into her chair. “What happened?” she asked, holding the wet cloth to her forehead.
Charles rolled his chair beside hers. “Your heart rate was dangerously high and your blood pressure was spiking. I had to pull you out before you had a stroke,” he paused and stared at her intently. “What did you see in there, Jean?”
Jean shuddered at the memory. “I… I went into his body…” she tried to find the words to describe the horrible scene. “I felt the adamantium leeching onto his bones. They were cutting into my… his forearms when you pulled me out.”
Professor Xavier swallowed hard, his brow deeply furrowed. “I don’t think you should go back in today, Jean.”
She was about to agree when something twinged in her mind. *Jean?*
“I have to, Professor.”
“Jean, I can’t allow that. You might be seriously injured…”
*Jeannie, where are you?*
Jean nearly cried. “No, I have to. He’s calling me.”
End Yellow (Spectrum Six)
–
“I have to protest, Jean,” Professor Xavier said, wheeling close to her. “You aren’t in any condition to go back into his mind.”
*Did I lose you, Jean?*
Jean bit back a curse. “Professor, you don’t understand. Logan is calling me telepathically. I left him there and I have to go back. He won’t be able to find his way out without me.”
Charles sighed, rubbing his eyes. “You need rest, Jean…”
“I’ll rest when Logan is back.”
“I’m not going to be able to talk you out of this, am I?”
Jean smiled dryly. “I’m sorry, Professor, but no. I’m going back in and I’m going to bring Logan back.”
Dr. Millar came out of the bathroom. “At least let me start an IV. Ya can’t eat while you’re in there and ya need nutrients or you’ll keel over,” she said.
“How long have I been in his mind?” Jean asked, finally noticing the trembling in her hands that signaled the need for food.
“Nearly six hours,” Charles answered.
Six hours… Jean was astounded. Was the web of Logan’s memories so tangled? “Go ahead with the IV.”
Jean winced instinctively when the needle slid into her hand, but there wasn’t much pain. “You’re pretty good at that,” she told Autumn.
Dr. Millar smiled briefly, hooking a tube to the needle. “So I’ve been told,” she replied, starting a drip. “I figure that most people hate needles as much as I do, so I ought to be as gentle as I can. You’re ready.”
Jean nodded, then laughed. “What is it?” Autumn asked, giving Jean an odd look.
“I was just remembering the first time I put an IV in Logan’s arm. He nearly choked me,” she said with a smile.
Autumn raised an eyebrow. “Ya really do need some food, girl. I think you’ve gone daft.”
Reaching for her calm center, Jean reestablished her grounding connection. “I’m ready,” she said softly, and placed her hands on both sides of Logan’s head, slipping back into his mind.
–
This time walking into Logan’s mind was like walking down a tangled forest trail. Jean batted hanging vines out of the way and squeezed through twisted briars. “Logan!” she shouted, wincing when a bramble scratched her arm. *Logan! Where are you?*
She fell through the tangle of thorny branches and found herself in a clearing, staring down a powerful grey wolf. Jean was surprised; if she had expected any animal symbols in Logan’s mind, she had expected his namesake, a wolverine. The wolf stared at her with intelligent eyes, as if it was examining her. After a long, breathless moment, the wolf lowered his head, almost as if he had nodded. He turned and started down a path, pausing once to look over his shoulder at her, seeming to beckon her to follow. Jean hesitated for only a second before trailing after the wolf, trailing him through the woods.
Everything was so dark and tangled. Things must have gotten worse since she’d pulled out of his mind. Loneliness and pain and confusion permeated the atmosphere, turning the air cold and damp. “I shouldn’t have left,” she whispered to herself.
The wolf stopped and looked back at her, staring her directly in the eye, just as Logan always did.
*Believe me, you would have done no good to him by staying and dying.*
Jean gaped; the wolf was talking to her?
What could almost be seen as a smile crossed the wolf’s muzzle. *Not talking, really. But it’s basically the same thing, isn’t it?*
Jean knelt on the surprisingly soft ground, so that she was on eye-level with the wolf. “Are you Logan?” she asked.
The wolf bared its fangs, but Jean knew that this expression was a full grin. *Oh, no. I’m one of his spirit guides.*
“One of?”
*Yes. His wolverine is around here somewhere, and his falcon is perched right above us.*
Jean looked up and saw a huge brown falcon balanced on a branch above her head. It inclined its head to her in greeting and she did the same. “So, why are you the one that’s talking to me? I’d think that his wolverine would be his… spokesman,” Jean said.
The wolf nodded understandingly. *It would make sense, considering that so much of Logan’s personality is based upon the wolverine. However, I am the one who has been guiding him of late.*
He sat down and licked one paw nonchalantly. *I am a restless wanderer, Jean. I travel the lands and return to my pack to share my knowledge. My sense of smell and instincts are so fine-tuned that I can sniff out danger from miles away. I live in a close relationship with my mate, remaining true until I die,* the wolf paused and gazed at her meaningfully. *Do you see why I am his first guide?*
Jean nodded. “I do.”
*Good. Now, I will tell you why we are here,* the wolf sniffed the air in a manner so like Logan that Jean smiled. *You are also one of his spirit guides.*
Jean’s knitted her brows. “I don’t understand,” she said.
*You are his soul mate. Do you believe in reincarnation, Jean?*
“I think so.”
The wolf nodded. *Well, each soul has a mate, another half, and humans spend all of their lives searching for that half. Many times, the halves come together, but something is missing, so they don’t become complete. They don’t join into one soul when they die.
*You and Logan have been dancing that dance for many lifetimes, more for you than him. It’s quite a long and tragic story, and I don’t have time to tell it all right now. Logan needs you right now, more than he has ever needed any of us.*
Jean watched a wolverine creep out of the forest tangle and hover at the edge of the trail. The wolf continued. *He needs you to guide him out of this place of darkness, and only you can do it. We are here simply to lend you strength.*
“I assume that I’m going to need it.”
The wolf gave her a knowing look. *The worst still lies ahead, Jean. As I said, Logan will need you now more than ever. There are many things in his past that are horrifying, and can tear him apart. Walk beside him.
*He is just ahead. Are you ready to go?*
Jean looked from the wolf, to the wolverine, to the falcon. She could almost feel their strength flowing into her. “I’m ready,” she whispered, rising and following the path into the darkness.
End Orange (Spectrum 7)
–
The forest was dark, so dark that Jean could barely see her hand in front of her face. The trail was a blurred outline among the black trees, and she followed it, brushing branches out of her way. After a few minutes, she caught a glimpse of light among the trees, flickering as leaves and branches swayed in the light breeze.
*Come here.*
The words weren’t really spoken, but rather echoed around in her head like a thought. Jean pushed the branches of a blue spruce out of the way and headed for the light. It got clearer the closer she came to it, and she realized that it was a building. She stumbled through a tangle of bushes and found herself in front of a small pagoda.
A pagoda? She blinked, but the building did not change. Dark wooden walls reached up to a curved red roof. A flickering light shined through the two windows on the front of the building.
*Come inside, Jean.*
The thought-voice echoed again and Jean slowly pushed the door open, peering into the dim interior… the inside of a dojo. How she knew the building was a dojo she couldn’t figure out. She slipped out of her shoes and padded silently inside.
She was in a foyer of sorts, separated from the rest of the single room by a thin paper wall. She could see the flickering light of torches through the paper, and a dark figure, moving slowly, rhythmically. Jean crossed the room and slid a hidden door open, peering into the other half of the dojo.
Two flambeau torches hung on the walls, casting red-orange light around the bare room. There was no furniture, only a mat in the center of the room. Three swords, a katana, a wakisashi and a tanto, lay on the mat beside a neatly folded keikogi and a pair of straw zori. Jean shook her head and tried to remember where she’d learned the names of the swords and clothing in front of her. ‘Wait… I’m in Logan’s mind. He knows, so I know,’ she thought, feeling a bit foolish for not realizing it before.
Logan… Logan was in the middle of the room, slowly moving through a kata, the movement of his legs hidden by a black hakama. He was shirtless and barefoot, and the light from the torches played over his straining muscles. Jean felt a flare of heat deep inside of her as she watched him. For a man his size, he was surprisingly graceful, each punch, kick, thrust, and lunge like steps in a dance. Logan was a beautiful specimen of masculinity.
He came to a stop, panting slightly, and bowed to an invisible partner, then turned and sank to his knees on the mat in front of the swords. Jean looked at the array on the floor again and suddenly realized that this was the equipment of a samurai. Was this a part of Logan’s past?
“Yes, it is,” he said, startling her.
Logan beckoned to her, and she sat cross-legged across from him. His eyes were startlingly clear, completely devoid of the pain, the haunted look she was so used to seeing in them. He watched her silently, waiting for something. Jean didn’t know what, so she stared at the clothing in front of her. The material of the shirt, the keikogi, was beautiful, a fine black cotton that almost shimmered in the torchlight. Each shoulder was embroidered with a silver design, a dragon and a phoenix entwined. She idly wondered what he would look like dressed in the keikogi, with the three swords strapped to his waist. They were beautiful as well, lacquered black and red, the handles ivory wrapped in black silk, the hand guards bronze. These were the swords of a rich man.
“You’re showing me your past, aren’t you?” she asked, not taking her eyes off of the weapons.
She could see his little half-smile out of the corner of her eye. “I think so,” he replied.
“You were a samurai?” she said, looking up at him.
Logan pressed his lips together thoughtfully. “In a way. I was trained in Japan by a master named Ogun. He was my sensei. I killed him in battle. I am ronin now.”
Jean could see the fine trembling in his hands. “Do you want to go on?” she asked.
Logan looked at her, his dark eyes pinning her. “This is a part of me. Until I’ve remembered all of it, I won’t be whole. I have to go on, Jeannie,” he paused and lifted the katana into his lap.
She watched him unsheathe the sword and run a reverent fingertip down the polished steel blade. “I have to remember,” he continued, “but I need you. I need your help.”
Jean swallowed hard. “Logan, I’ll always be here for you.”
He pinned her with his gaze again. “Will you? Deep down inside o’me, I know that you love me. But sometimes… you’re so distant. Like you won’t let yourself love me. Why?”
Jean’s eyes burned. “I… I guess I was afraid. I felt like I was betraying Scott’s memory by loving you.”
“Do you still feel that way?”
Jean closed her eyes and concentrated on him. *I love you, Logan, and I’ll always be with you.*
She felt rather than saw his smile, and smiled herself. “I love you, Jean Grey. Don’t think I’ll ever let you go,” he said quietly.
She opened her eyes in time to see him brushing the keikogi and zori aside. She didn’t have time to ask why before he pulled her close, into his lap, and kissed her. She melted against him, let him mold her and support her. He was pouring all of his love, his fear, his devotion into this kiss and it was overwhelming. She tasted tears on his lips and wondered if they were hers or his, and decided that she didn’t care. They were together, bonded by these tears, by this pain. It healed them.
After a long moment, Logan disengaged and stood, smoothing the pleats of his hakama. “I’m ready. Are you?” he asked.
Jean nodded and let him pull her to her feet. “Then let’s go, koibito,” he said, leading her through the back door of the dojo.
–
Jean gasped as she was pulled into the stream of his consciousness again and held tight to his hand. Memories flew past them so quickly that she could only catch glimpses of them: fighting in a cage, the laboratory, sparring with a man in a red mask, a battlefield… Jean tugged on Logan’s hand and stopped at that memory.
Men were falling everywhere. The air stank of blood and burnt flesh and some kind of chemical. She felt Logan’s grip tighten on her hand; looking to her right, she saw why he had tensed. His memory doppelganger was coming over a rise, rifle in hand. He was covered in blood and his eyes were wild with a killing lust. A man jumped out from behind a tree, wearing a gore-splattered German uniform and brandishing a handgun, and Logan opened fire. Bullets ripped into the German soldier, and the man was dead before he hit the ground.
“Let’s go…” Logan whispered in her ear, his voice pained, and they were whisked back into the stream.
Jean tried to stay quiet, but she couldn’t. “You’re much older than we thought,” she said.
Logan looked numb. “I looked the same then as I do now.”
Jean couldn’t think of anything to say to that. Instead, she leaned toward another memory and watched.
The laboratory… Jean jumped and looked at Logan, but his face was a stony mask. “Can you handle this?” she asked.
His answer was a terse nod. Gripping her hand tightly, he watched the experiments, the adamantium bonding as it played like a movie. He flinched a few times, but Jean thought that he was handling it well. He sucked in a breath and she turned her attention back to the memory. For a second, a man’s face was startlingly clear… a man with cold eyes… and then it disappeared, swept away with the rest of the memory.
“I will find that man,” Logan said, his voice quiet, “and kill him.”
Jean stayed silent this time, letting him come to grips. Then, she steered them toward another memory; ‘Hopefully, a happier one,’ she thought. This one was short; it disappeared before they could get a good look. It was Logan and a beautiful Japanese woman, holding each other… Jean felt her stomach clench, and she stamped the emotion down.
The next memory was also brief. It was Logan as a child, held by a woman Jean assumed to be his mother. She looked to be at least part Native American, with long, black hair falling to the sides of her pretty face. The memory turned and a tall man came into view, a man with Logan’s hawkish features and penetrating eyes.
“My parents…” he whispered.
And they were whisked away again.
–
Jubilee stretched and looked at the clock for what felt like the millionth time. She had been sitting watch in the lab for the past hour and a half. Rogue had watched for two hours before her, and Storm three before that. The Professor watched them all of last night.
She tried to ignore the hollow feeling of dread in her stomach. She liked Wolverine a lot; he was a really good guy… She suddenly sat up in surprise. Logan was moving.
Jubilee hit the intercom button.
“Professor! I think they’re awake! Storm, somebody, get down here!”
–
Jean groaned and opened her eyes, squinting into the light. Her head was spinning, making her feel mildly nauseated. “God,” she said, stretching her back until it popped.
Motion caught her attention, and her eyes suddenly flew open. Logan was moving! “Logan,” she whispered.
His eyelids fluttered and he cleared his throat, scrunching his forehead. “Wake up, Logan,” she said, smiling.
Logan blinked a few times and looked up at her, confused. “Where the hell am I?”
Jean laughed, nearly kicking her chair over in her haste to get closer to him. “The med lab.”
“Why am I in the med lab? Waitaminute…” he paused, his eyes widening. “I remember things…”
“I know,” she murmured, crawling up onto the bed.
He wrapped an arm around her as she curled against his side. “I… there’s so much…”
“Don’t try to recall everything right now, Logan.”
She jumped at Professor Xavier’s voice. He wheeled into her line of sight, a relieved smile brightening his tired face. “There will be time later for that. You two need some real rest. Dr. Millar will examine you, and then I want you to sleep for a good long time,” he continued.
Jean looked over her shoulder and saw Jubilee and Storm standing in the door. The younger woman was practically bouncing with happiness. Jean smiled at them and let her head fall back onto Logan’s shoulder. She barely noticed gentle hands examining her and pulling a blanket over them. Logan was safe… relief washed over her. She was exhausted, and she finally gave herself permission to feel it. “I love you, Logan,” she mumbled, nuzzling his neck.
His arms tightened around her. “I love you, too, Red,” he replied. “See ya when we wake up.”
End Red (Spectrum 8)
–
Jean pulled the blankets around her shoulders and tucked them behind Logan’s back, huddling closer to his chest to fend off the cold air. A fire crackled in the cabin’s woodstove, but it did little to warm the blizzard-driven chill.
“Colorado was your choice,” she murmured against his neck, shivering as his hands ghosted over her naked back.
“Mmm… yeah, it was,” he replied, sliding a hand over her bottom.
She gasped when two fingers slipped inside of her, and she rose up higher on her knees to give him better access. He bent his head and sucked her nipple into his mouth, moving his hand around to tease her clit. “Aah… but it’s February… it’s freez… freezing…” she whimpered.
He chuckled, moving his mouth up and sucking her earlobe. “I think I know a good way to get warm…” he whispered, his breath tickling her ear and sending a delicious shudder down her body.
“Oh?” she breathed, spreading her hands across his broad chest.
The muscles under her fingertips rippled when he moved his arms, one hand holding his cock, the other urging her closer to him. Jean moved slowly, lifting herself up and moving her knees to each side of his hips, feeling the muscles there tense against her thighs. His penis was hot and hard, barely touching her but radiating heat and desire. God, she wanted him so badly…
A hand tangled in her hair, dragging her mouth to his. He kissed her with blinding intensity, thrusting his tongue into her mouth, and she tasted his emotions as they swept over her. White-hot lust burned her… she tasted his lust, his overwhelming desire for her, and she tasted the love that would probably always sweep her off of her feet. It made her heart ache with happiness to know that she was loved so completely.
Logan nipped at her bottom lip, the tip of his cock brushing her clitoris, and she felt the sharp edge of an orgasm rushing toward her. He must have sensed it, because he backed off slightly, kissing the corner of her mouth. It amazed her that he could take her this far with just his kisses.
“Ready?” he whispered against her lips.
Jean nodded, unable to make her mouth work. He slid a finger inside of her, testing her wetness, then placed the head of his penis against her opening. The feel of his hot flesh against her made her want to lose control and slam herself down onto him, but they had been building up to this for nearly an hour and a half. She didn’t want to let all of that foreplay go to waste.
Achingly slowly, she lowered herself onto him, feeling her swollen sex open for him. Logan’s hands tightened with bruising strength on her hips, and he moaned, a low, growling sound deep in his throat. Their eyes locked, and Jean felt her clitoris swell and throb. She knew that as soon as he was inside of her completely, she would come, and from the wild look in his eyes, she suspected he would, too.
So, she dragged the moment out, sliding down on his cock with agonizing slowness. His fingers flexed on her hips, betraying his impatience, but he didn’t make any moves to speed her pace. Inch by inch, she drew him inside of her, the walls of her sex gripping his cock tightly. He stretched her to what felt like the limit.
On the very last inch, his hips gave a twist and his cock bottomed out inside of her, pushing against her g-spot while her clit was pressed against his rough pubic hair. She cried out, the orgasm that had been building for so long finally crashing over her. Her whole body jerked, and her fingernails dug into his shoulders, drawing a growl from him. She came with such intensity that dark sparkles blinded her, and she was aware of only the clenching, rippling waves and his erection moving inside of her.
His low growls and moans mixed with and overpowered her cries, and he slammed her hips down onto his, thrusting hard and deep. She waited for her climax to subside, but it didn’t; it lessened and then rebuilt to a blinding crescendo. She felt warm blood running from around her fingernails and hot semen spilling inside of her. Everything was hot, her body, the air, Logan’s burning-coal eyes…
Jean must have blacked out, for when she was finally aware of her surroundings again, she and Logan were sprawled on the bed, still joined and wrapped around each other. She pressed her face against his neck, tasting his sweat, then moved up to kiss him. Aftershocks still shuddered through the both of them; his fingers still clenched spasmodically around her hips and both of their breaths came in stilted gasps.
“Oh, god…” she said, her voice hoarse from screaming, “did we just die?”
Logan gave a rusty laugh. “I hope not. I wanna do that again,” he replied.
“I love you.”
He grinned up at her. “Love you too. Even if you did claw my shoulders up.”
She tried to look apologetic, but couldn’t wipe the satisfied smile off of her face. “That was amazing,” she said, kissing his chin.
“Mmm… gimme five minutes and we can do it again.”
Jean laughed and eased herself off of him, burrowing under the covers against his side. The sweat was drying on her skin, and she was once again aware of just how ice cold the cabin was. He wrapped his strong arms around her and rested his chin on the top of her head.
The cabin was quiet for a long while, the silence broken only by the crackling of the fire and the howl of the wind outside. Jean watched snowflakes being battered against the windowpane, and idly wondered how much snow had fallen in the days they had been here. She was determined not to scan his mind, even if his long silence worried her. She could feel his anxiety without having to scan his thoughts, but she resolved to let him set his own pace.
The things that they had been through over the past few days… it was overwhelming. Jean wasn’t used to such mental exertion; being psychically linked to someone for several hours at a time, several times in quick succession would have killed anyone without her will. Her mind ached, almost in the manner of a headache, but deeper. She wouldn’t be doing any psychic gymnastics any time soon.
“How am I supposed to deal with this?”
Logan’s sudden question startled her. She splayed her hand across his chest, feeling the strong beat of his heart under her palm. “I don’t know, Logan,” was the only answer she could think of.
“The Professor said that it would take time. Logically, I know that,” he sighed, his arms tightening around her, “but I want to know now.
“I want to know who I am. I’ve lived for so goddamned long without knowing, and now I have that knowledge right in front of me, but I don’t know how to get it. I can’t figure out how to… figure it out.”
He laughed humorlessly. “There were things I saw, memories that didn’t feel real to me. Did you feel that?”
Jean exhaled heavily. “I did. Some of the memories felt artificial, though I don’t know in what way…” she answered.
“I wanna know who the bastards are that did this to me.”
One hand lifted and adamantium claws slid from his knuckles. “I want to find them and kill every last one of them.”
The cold resolution in his voice sent a shiver through Jean. It wasn’t just fear of Logan’s violence, though… it was a shiver of anger, anger that someone could do such a horrible thing to a man. It might have been Logan’s emotions bleeding over into hers, but she wanted revenge almost as much as he did.
She took a few calming breaths and hugged him tightly. “Not right now. Let’s get our minds off of everything else…”
The cell phone rang.
Jean rolled her eyes. “I knew I should have turned that thing off,” she muttered, reaching across Logan and pulling the phone from her bag.
“What?” Logan said loudly when she turned it on.
“Ssh! This is Jean,” she said into the phone.
“Sorry to call you, Jean,” Storm’s voice sounded a little too cheerful.
Jean snorted. “Right. I’m sure you are.”
Ororo laughed. “The professor wanted me to give you a quick update. We’ve located a new mutant, and we’ll be sending a team to find him next week. Professor Xavier wanted you and Logan to go.”
“Where?”
“New Orleans. There’s no rush, though. The professor wanted to make sure you two got your vacation. When you leave Colorado, you can fly directly to Louisiana and meet Hank and me there.”
Jean glanced at Logan, who shrugged. “Who’s Hank?”
Storm laughed again. “Oh, I’m sorry! I forgot that you didn’t know. Dr. Millar referred a friend of hers to Professor Xavier. His name is Henry McCoy. He’s a geneticist, and a mutant. You’ll meet him in New Orleans.
“Well, I’ll let you two get back to… whatever if was that you were doing,” Ororo said; Jean could practically hear the smirk in her friend’s voice.
Jean stifled a laugh at the mock-scandalized expression on Logan’s face. “See you next week,” she said, and turned the cell phone off.
She dropped the phone into her bag and crawled on top of Logan, touching her nose to his. “Four more days. Have any idea how we can spend that time?”
Logan’s lascivious grin answered her question.
End Infrared
End Spectrum
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Apr 08 2010