Once Upon New Salem CHARACTERS: Jean. TOPIC: "Can you tell that I'm alive..." DATE & TIME: Friday, May 20th, 2016 - 8:15am. LOCATION: Alkali Lake.
Sand; damp and solid. It had conformed to her body no differently than her memory foam pillow back home. God, her pillow... She’d been content to rest on her course and chilly bed until thoughts of her wonderful pillow, warm bedroom, and the man that helped make that room so warm entered her mind’s eye.
“Scott.” She moaned, not unlike a zombie - which felt appropriate to the woman face down against the beach. Her body ached with apathy and her joints creaked, sorely in need of the tin man’s can of oil. It was with the pain of inactivity, and it reminded Jean of an incredibly lazy Sunday - the kind during which her pedometer might show an embarrassingly low three-digit number. Which was always easy cannon fodder for the clinically over-active and fitbit addict Mr. Summers...
The second unintentional diversion of her mental thought-train in Cyclops' station caused Jean’s stiff fingers to claw into the clay-like sand until they gave her palms a strong enough base to push her torso up from the ground. When her arms straightened and her back curved toward the heavens, her mouth let out a moan both to mark the struggle it had been and to express the relief she felt when her spine popped in several places. Jean’s neck bent back, and it was so good she didn’t even care that her dirt layered, still wet, fiery locks covered her face completely. She was alive and it felt amazing.
Jean fought her way to her feet, she’d stumbled a bit through the sand, not aided by her well rested (but also not-interested-in-moving) legs. She took large strides forward and wanted to put as much distance between her and the vast body of water behind her as possible.The irrational fear that the lake might try to reclaim her lived inside of her head, but she was sure as hell done with Davy Jones and his damned locker.
Not far from the beach was a road, and Jean picked a direction then followed it. She hoped for a friendly motorist, but frankly - based on her battle beaten X-suit she doubted anyone would take pity on her. But that didn’t deter her, she had a one track mind with a one-eyed man on it.
Luckily for her, the first vehicle she’d spied was a Ranger's jeep, and the ‘park ranger with kind eyes’ practically scooped Jean up and took her back to his station. But while happy she’d been discovered, something gave Jean Grey pause.
“It’s quiet.” She told the ranger, whose name was Vincent, but ‘ranger with the kind eyes’ would probably stick longer in Jean’s memory.
“Yeah…” Vincent started, then set the mug of coffee he’d fetched in front of her. “Since the dam collapsed I’ve been all alone out here.”
Jean smiled in lieu of a verbal thank you for the coffee, mostly because she’d already thanked him for the ride, and the khaki colored female ranger uniform he’d given her to change into. She grabbed the handle of the mug and had to restrain herself from sipping the hot beverage too quickly. She cupped the mug on either side and slouched in her chair, completely convinced this would transfer the warmth from the coffee across her body faster. However, Vincent hadn’t answered her question. Why was it so quiet?
Her eyes flashed from the cup to Vincent, and Jean reached passed his kind eyes into his mind. It was then she came to the horrify realization… it was quiet because she couldn’t read his thoughts. Suddenly the stranger she’d been completely comfortable with a moment ago filled her was dread. Her back stiffened against the chair and Jean set the mug down on the table. The change in her mood didn’t escape Vincent's notice.
“What’s wrong? I mean… besides the fact you can’t remember how you got on the side of the road?” He asked, his posture as relaxed as could be. But this gave Jean no solace.
Her hand raised and Vincent and chair slid back from the table he’d just cozied up to.
“Whoa!” He yelled, then dropped his own mug - hot coffee flung into the air. Jean focused and the liquid froze in midair, along with the mug. The beverage returned to the cup and the handle returned to Vincent’s hand. “You’re one of those mutants I’ve heard about.” The ranger eked out, still a bit shocked by the exchange.
Her telekinesis eased Jean’s mind for moment, but the inability to read the park ranger’s thoughts still put her on edge. “I am.” She answered, then slowly stood. “I mean you no harm... but I can’t stay here.”
“You don’t have to go…” His kind eyes, that had been momentarily replaced by a stunned pair, returned and for a second Jean believed him. “I don’t care, if you are. I just want to make sure you get help.”
She wished she could have taken him at his word, but without being able to read his thoughts… Jean just couldn’t commit to that. It unsettled her too much… the silence. The solitude of just her voice. Odd, because it was the clutter of too many voices that usually gave her pause.
“I’m sorry.” Jean told him, while the keys to his jeep floated from the ranger station wall and into her hands. “I need to get back to my friends. I’ve been gone much too long.” She started toward the door and turned back, to her shock Vincent hadn’t moved. It seemed he’d rather see her drive off than put up a fight. Jean hoped it was because he wanted her to get home, not that he was happy to be rid of a strange mutant.
“My cousin's a mutant.” Vincent said, and Jean took it as an adorable olive branch. “He can’t move things with his mind though... just stick to walls and borrow money from me.”
Jean smirked, then ignored the guilt she felt over what she was about to do. “Somebody going to come around soon?”
“Yeah, I’m off in a couple hours.” Vincent answered, “But you don’t have to do this.”
“Yes, yes I do.” Jean’s hand raised again, the closet door in the office flew open and Vincent and his chair slid into it. The door slammed shut, right before the heavy wooden desk moved across the room and blocked the door. Jean left the office quickly, she didn’t want to hear Vincent bang on the door as the sound might have caused her to turn around. But she couldn’t take the chance. Maybe there was a logical reason her telepathy was on the fritz, but she couldn’t sit around with a man she didn’t know (and more importantly couldn’t read), and figure it out. Besides, she missed her friends, and Jean still had no idea how long she’d been gone or even how she’d survived. But by God, she’d drive this jeep all the way to New York to figure it out and more importantly - she’d crawl back to see Scott again. The thought of ruby red quartz and smell of aftershave had never filled her with so much longing before.
“I’m coming home, Scott.” She told nobody but the empty passenger seat of the ranger vehicle she was about to steal. “Meet me halfway if you can hear this; anyone using cerebro,” she nearly prayed while she sped off heading east.