1963-07-18 - Nothing In This World But You
Summary: Logan finds out Jean's mental state and tells her to get help.
Related: None
Theme Song: None
jean logan 

Jean mostly spent her time alone. With Logan working on his cabin, Jean working on practicing her gift with Alex and Bobby, and sometimes watching Logan from afar or other people doing their works.. either playing or hanging with each other.. She felt the odd woman out when it came to camaraderie. Maybe it was her time at home. Maybe she was just used to things going bad. Maybe she was just afraid that… she just wasn't a person. Feeling alien around those who possibly looked and felt that way almost seemed like a slap in the face to the mutant kind as a whole. But she felt it.

"I don't understand." Jean says quietly towards Logan. It's been close to three weeks now since she's felt anything. There was a deep hurt, a deep pain in the institute and she shut herself off from it. And she never turned herself back on.

She held the cards close to her eyes as she looks up towards Logan, her eyes growing nearly owlishly wide. "Why not use the One Ring to their advantage? True, if power corrupts, it is dangerous. But that power could be used and there wouldn't need to be extended volumes of the story." In regards to Lord of the Rings.

She places down an ace of spades, then looks up towards Logan. "Go fish?"


Logan raises an eyebrow, "I ain't got the first damn idea what you're talkin' about," he says, sighing as he sits back, considering his cards as he draws another from the deck. No match.

"You doin' okay, kiddo? I know I been caught up wit' workin' on my place and everything. I been wantin' to give you a chance to hang out with some o' the other student types, people yer own age. Ain't fair for an old dog like me to keep ya all to myself," he says, drawing his cigar from the ashtray and taking a puff.


"The book. The Lord of the Rings book. Have you not read it?"

She watches intently, her eyes lowering, her shoulders at a slight slump as he pulls the cards from the deck. At least her room was clean and well furnished, brand new windows and new carpeting which makes sitting on the floor something of a dream. She stretches her legs out, her toes wiggling and clenching as she stares at her card.

"Yes. I am doing fine." She says almost mechanically. "I enjoy spending time with everyone when I can." She admits. "I enjoy spending time with you as well. Though I find that I'm no longer preferring interactions from people. I enjoy the library. There are so many books for me to read." She breathes evenly, her nose wrinkling. "Open the window."

And then the window? It slides itself open.


Logan considers, "You no longer prefer interactions with people, huh? Got a particular reason why? I gone through my hermit periods myself, but I admit part of it's that I was afraid o' guttin' 'em if I lost my temper too bad. I still got that in me, but I got a…better handle on it than I did a long time ago," he says.

"And no, 'fraid I ain't got 'round to readin' that 'un yet. We'll have t'do some book tradin' sometime. I been on a Hemingway kick lately."


"It's difficult." She answers honestly. "Picking out the real me from the sea of emotions that constantly float around us. It's like fathoms of love, hate, anger, joy, sadness, defeat.." Her hands gesture briefly, the cards tossed to the ground. "This game bores me. Pick something else."

Jean stands and moves towards the window; sticking her head out of it so that she could look out into the yard below. While the cigar smoke was something that smelled sweet and divine, she had enough second hand smoke from Logan to last a lifetime.

"He was next on my list. Hemingway. I still have two more novels to go through and possibly a prequel."


Logan nods, "He ain't always for everybody. But ain't nobody is. Plenty o' good writers only write for people like 'em. Some folks don't much like to read at all," he says. "Was a time…I can barely remember it…books was my best friends. Back when I was a kid, before…" he shakes his head. Those were particularly bad memories. The fire. The death.

"That's what you're here to learn, though, right? How to keep that stuff separate? How to be able to be around people without feeling it? I ain't judgin' you do what you gotta do t'keep yer head on, darlin'. Just sayin', probably the sort o' thing you should bring up to Chuck."


"It is up to the reader." She comments, a little smile drawing across her face. That gesture alone, does not reach her eyes. And it was nearly frightening. She turns to lean against the window, her arms folded about herself as she lifts a little shrug of her shoulders. "No reason as to why you cannot try again."

It was then that she moves towards her dresser, picking up the book with both hands to lug towards him, kneeling next to him to push the book into his lap despite the burning cigar that he possibly holds. "Yes. I prefer to learn other things right now." Her face straightens, save for the little tic in her brow. "When there is time, we'll address it. To be quite honest, in the grand scheme of things, my ignorance and lack of control fall short." Her hands lift, showing him just how much an inch she is worth. "Everything is minuscule. There are others who are far more troubled.." Her gaze falters for a moment, her eyes studying her hand for a moment.

"That is not to say that he does not care. But that is to say that I want him to care about something else other than myself. Its better that way."


Logan raises an eyebrow, "I ain't exactly convinced you're right about that, no matter how sure and calm you are when you say it, darlin'. Sufferin' ain't a contest - you got as much right to help as anybody else. More'n some, because your talents are somethin' he can understand better. I dunno what he can do for, say, Sammy or Wings. Their powers ain't somethin' he can relate to. Mostly, they gonna have to figger that shit out on their own," he says.

"But you? You he can help," he says. "But you don't have to talk about it. Whatever it is, whatever you're feelin' - I know I ain't much good for helpin' with that," he says. "And I'll try the book."


"I never said it was a contest." Jean murmurs. "I said that in the grand scheme of things, my suffering is but a spot in a sea full of stars." Sort of. She sort of said it. She settles down next to Logan, shoulder to shoulder, her hands drawing up to allow the cards to float from their places upon the ground, swirling swiftly so that they could be put into order.

"The Professor wants to save the world.." She murmurs, picking out the King of Aces, allowing it to float to the ground. "And maybe his love." The queen is picked out, and fluttered to the ground. "And then the many mutant kind who do not look as normal as we do.." The cards dance along the air, almost as if they had their own song..

"I've decided to put myself below that. Below his radar of people to save, help, guide and nurture. I've my books, James. I will be fine." She smiles, once again, it was almost terrifying. "I don't feel a thing." And she leans against his shoulder, her head upon it soon after.


Logan strokes a hand through her hair softly. Her calling him James happened sometimes. He barely remembered that name. He could feel it was familiar - he knew she was still talking to him, not calling him by someone else's name. That was the boy's name, in the deepest parts of his memory, the boy who burned, the boy who bled. Poor thing. Sickly. Weak.

"Why don't you let the Professor decide for himself how he wants t'spend his time and who he needs to help?" he says. "Don't worry yerself too much 'bout it. He's a pretty smart fella. If he thinks he should help you, then he's probably right," he says.

He tilts his head and his nose buries in her hair for a moment, "I need ya to be all rig"ht, Red. Ain't got much else in this world but you.

"And why don't you let me decide for myself how I want to be treated?" Jean frowns, not angered in the slightest. It was just a series of facial expressions, ones that fit the words and the intent, but nothing was backing it. Even the way she leaned her head upon his shoulder was empty. Only because she thought that's what she should do during a talk with someone she adores. Lay her head upon their shoulders. Listen. Respond. Rinse and repeat.

"I'm alright." She says, reaching over to lightly rest her hand upon his cheek. She doesn't move, she just keeps it there for that moment until she drops it back into her lap, that simple drop causing the cards to fall in cascades around them. "I.. I'll talk to Dr. MacTaggart instead. But she will tell you that I'm alright."


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