Author: Restive Nature
Rating: up to NC-17
Disclaimer- I in no way, shape or form own the characters of Dark Angel or X-Men or anything related to them. I simply like to play with them for a short while.
Summary: Max is once again on the run. But this time a safe haven awaits her in the form of Professor Xavier’s School for Gifted Children.
Pairing: M/L
Chapter Fifteen
Max didn’t spend long in her room after Logan had bolted. She briefly wondered where he might have fled to, since she didn’t hear him in the room next to hers. And so, in an effort to busy herself, she cleaned up after their little movie fest. It didn’t take overly long. Just picking up some popcorn kernels that had spilled and putting the movies away in their cases. She gathered up the items to take back to the kitchen and deposited them on the tray.
Once downstairs, she made for the kitchen, wondering if she were actually hungry, or if she was just trying to be hungry as an excuse for something to do, when she caught sight of Jean. Sighing internally as the woman removed herself from the chair she was in, Max resignedly kept on course.
She swept by Jean, who looked about to speak, Max’s whole demeanor cold. This was something she didn’t really want to deal with. But Jean was one of those types that just wouldn’t let things lie. Max could only hope that she wouldn’t be like a dog with a bone.
And once again she was wrong about something. After following Max into the kitchen, Jean set herself with her back against the door. Perhaps unconsciously, or perhaps not. Her whole stance was geared toward confrontation. Max set the tray on the counter and began to put the mugs in the dishwasher. She didn’t speak.
To Jean, the silence was anything but. The air in the entire room seemed to crackle with tension. And even were she not telepathic, she could read the anger coming off the woman loud and clear. And Jean had thought this through enough that she admitted that Max probably had very good reason to be upset. But Jean also felt that Max might also be willing to listen to her side of the story.
“Max?” she asked softly. She was working in a cautious mode, unwilling to push too hard so that Max wouldn’t try to bolt again. At least, that’s what she told herself. Deep down, she knew she wanted answers. Max paused in her work, her shoulders straight and stiff as she rested her hands lightly on the counter before her. Jean licked her lips and continued.
“I know that I said I was sorry yesterday,” she began, “so I won’t keep repeating it.” She glanced away for a moment, trying to figure out how to phrase her next words so that she wouldn’t offend the other woman. “I would like the chance to explain myself, if you’ll let me.”
There was a harsh chuckle from Max that surprised Jean. She waited until Max finally explained. The brunette turned her head slightly, to talk over her shoulder.
“It’s funny Jean,” Max sneered. “You said you were sorry, but what exactly were you sorry about?”
Jean was ready for that. She knew exactly what she had done wrong. “You know I’m a telepath, right?” She waited for Max’s confirmation. “So I see things. Sometimes it’s stuff I don’t mind, sometimes it’s stuff that I’d rather not know.”
“And where do my thoughts fall?” Max asked lightly, though Jean could see the rigidness of her body.
Jean contemplated that question carefully. In truth, she was intrigued by the other woman. And so she decided that honesty was her best policy. “Actually, it’s both.” That caught Max’s attention and she turned to face Jean, her arms crossed as she leaned against the counter.
“What does that mean?” she demanded.
“Precisely what I said,” Jean scoffed lightly. Max was trying to delay things. They were going to talk about what Jean saw sooner or later and Jean preferred sooner. Not only to satisfy her own curiosity, but to get past this block between them. “There was nothing overtly frightening in what I saw, so the images didn’t bother me.” Max nodded, understanding that much. But what Jean said next really got to her. “It was the feelings that got to be too intense.”
“What?” Max’s eyes grew wide. As far as she had understood, a telepath saw things. So Jean should have ‘seen’, which was bad enough. But now, the redhead’s words had Max wondering just how deep in Jean had gotten.
“It’s all right,” Jean tried to soothe her, one hand held out to calm Max. “You have nothing to be ashamed about. With the amount of fear and the blood and everything else, I don’t blame you for how you reacted.”
“Well thank you very much Dr. Gray,” Max drawled derisively. “So glad that my feelings meet with your approval.”
“I didn’t mean it that way and you know it,” Jean snapped. “And I didn’t do it on purpose.”
“Oh?” Max growled her hands clenching and settling on her hips. “So you just mentally raped me by accident?”
“Actually I did,” Jean flared, though she flinched at Max’s harsh description of what she’d done.
“Right!” Max rolled her eyes. She was about to turn back to the counter, or better yet, leave, when Jean forestalled her.
“I had no control over receiving your thoughts,” Jean explained hastily, sensing that Max had had enough. “They were these big glaring neon red danger signals that practically threw themselves at me.”
Max’s jaw dropped as she searched for something to say to that ludicrous statement. Finally she settled on repeating it. “They threw themselves at you?”
Jean grinned ruefully. This was something most people didn’t understand about her power, and the professor’s. It was something that had happened with Logan too. So now she attempted to make at least one person get it. “When a memory like yours is powerful enough, it tends to stay with a person. It makes a sense imprint in almost everything that person says or does.” She paused to let Max take that in. Then hesitantly, quietly, she continued. “I’m guessing that that memory is one you think of nearly every single day of your life.”
Max nodded reluctantly. “It is,” she confirmed softly.
“You were a child, weren’t you?” Jean wondered. And suddenly any spark lingering in Max’s eyes had disappeared.
“I was never a child Jean,” she denied with quiet vehemence. “That place where I was… you had to grow up real fast.”
Jean nodded, understanding more of that feeling than Max knew. “But you were young, weren’t you?”
“Yeah,” Max admitted, then stared at the redhead, puzzled. “But you already knew that, I thought. I mean, you read my mind. Or what my mind ‘threw’ at you.”
“Actually I don’t know,” Jean shrugged. “What I got from you was images of kids, the snow, a gun, and things like that. And the feelings associated with each image.” She smiled widely. “Actually, it was all such a rush; I could barely make heads or tails of it.”
“So you don’t…?” Max hesitated to finish her thought.
“I don’t actually know anything,” Jean finished for her. “I could come up with some suppositions, I guess. But I’d rather you tell me.” Max opened her mouth to protest that idea, but Jean was already ahead of her. “But I know that that won’t happen any time soon. I broke any trust that you placed in me, whether by design or by accident. And I understand that I need to earn that trust back before we go any further.”
“Jean,” Max tried to interrupt, but the telekine wouldn’t let her.
“You asked me what I was sorry for and it’s this,” Jean declared. “I’m sorry that I wasn’t quick enough to stop the backlash of your memories to me and close it down before I received anything. I’m sorry that when you wanted to run, I didn’t let you. And I’m sorry that you have this burden to carry.”
Silence reigned in the kitchen for a few minutes. Max finally relaxed herself, able to read the sincerity in the whole of the other woman’s body. “I’m sorry too,” she offered easily, but she didn’t as Jean had just done, catalogue each thing. They were all too intertwined in one another, the reasons, to be easily explained. But that was okay. Jean understood. She nodded and jerked one thumb over her shoulder.
“I’m going to get to class,” she told Max. “I’ll see you later.”
It was with an almost euphoric high that Jean headed towards her classroom. Her smile certainly let Scott know that things had went well between her and Max. Better than Jean had thought they would. So when he joined her on the slow stroll to their respective classrooms, an answering smile was already on his face. He understood what Jean had needed to do, to talk to Max, but he asked anyway.
“How did it go?” he murmured quietly, conscious of the teens and children roaming around them.
“It went well,” Jean replied succinctly, entwining her hand with his. Scott reflexively tightened his grip, pleased that her morning was off to a good start.
“Did you get everything straightened out?” he probed further. To his secret dismay, when he and Jean had talked over what had occurred when Max was in their room, she hadn’t given any specifics. Scott knew better than to pry, but like the rest of the universe, he was curious as well.
“We did, to a degree,” Jean decided. She smiled derisively then. She knew her boyfriend too well. “And quit trying to dig. What we said was private. If Max wants you to know what happened, then she can tell you.”
“No no,” Scott laughed, hastily trying to cover his butt, even though he knew it was a waste of time. “I was just wondering if you’d patched things up enough to where Max would still want to go to New York this weekend.”
“Oh,” Jean nodded. “The professor is okay with it then?”
Scott nodded. “Barring anything unusual happening, we’re good to go. Storm said that she didn’t mind pulling weekend duty.”
“That’s great of her,” Jean enthused. She slowed her pace even more, as she noticed that students had already congregated in her classroom. She stopped entirely as an idea popped into her head. “Why don’t we see if Storm wants to do something similar next weekend? She needs a break too. And as for Max wanting to go, well, we’ll just have to ask her.”
“That’d be fine,” Scott agreed mildly. “And that’s a good idea, about Storm. I’ll ask her later.” Jean nodded and Scott gave her a quick peck on the cheek, squeezed her hand once more, before he continued on to the class he was teaching that morning.
Max hung back as she watched the two lovebirds part at the classroom door. She was quite sure that Scott hadn’t noticed her following them from a respectable distance back. She meant to follow them. And as she’d hoped, Jean had been circumspect. She wasn’t quite sure if Jean had been aware of her. If the telepath’s abilities were leaning towards the use that Professor Xavier leant them to, as in locating people wherever they were then she figured that Jean probably did know she was there.
But Jean had also admitted at one point that she was not as powerful as Xavier. So Max figured that if she had sensed where Max was, the redhead would know that Max was a good distance away. But Max also figured that Jean probably didn’t know how keen Max’s heightened hearing was. And with little compunction, even after what she had just been through, Max had thoroughly eavesdropped on their conversation. And far from feeling hypocritical, Max was satisfied, for the moment. After all, as Eyes Only had once said, it’s a kick or be kicked world. And Max was long ago done with being kicked.
Chapter Sixteen
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