Work Text:
We're not just dreamers,
We're the kind that comprehends
We gather up our forces
She's busy hearing voices, again
The dark room, coloured lights filtering feebly through the stained glass of the windows, a ray of white light flowing from the hands of the young girl crouched over Logan’s unconscious body. Blue eyes staring at him, his own eyes, his own voice talking in his head, and then a thousand images in flashes, faces he knew, faces he was yet to meet, and faces he would never meet again. Dozens of young faces looking for help, looking for protection, looking for a home. And among all those faces, hers.
Charles woke up out of breath.
He was back, in his room, in his shell of a body, once again prisoner of gravity. Sweat beaded across the hair sticking on his forehead.
He was home, and something was wrong.
<< Charles... >>
Hank’s face appeared behind the crack of the door.
<< She’s dreaming again, I know. >>
And there they were again.
As Hank went back to the corridor to send the other children to bed, he leaned over the tiny face lost in an agitated agony with eyes closed. He reached for her red hair spread all over the pillow.
<< Jean. >>
The trinkets over the shelves were shaking dangerously now. He held his breath, his hand reached for the sweaty forehead.
<< Jean! >>
A flash of blinding light pierced through his brain with the sound of a thousand screams.
Then she opened her eyes and the light faded out instantly.
<< I’m sorry! >> she was sobbing against his shoulder, now.
He hugged her in the dark.
<< There’s nothing to be sorry about, Jean. >> he whispered softly. << You’ve done nothing wrong. >>
But I did. she thought. It’s me, I can’t control it.
<< You will. >>
<< It’s getting worse. >>
Once again, Hank interrupted his train of thoughts.
<< She just needs to learn how to control it. >>
<< Can you actually teach her? >>
Charles looked up.
<< I have to. >> he said firmly. << I’ve promised I’d help them. >>
I’ll do my best – Your best is enough, trust me
<< Did he... >> Hank flashed a quick glance around to check no kid was snooping nearby. << I mean, did he mention her? >>
Something in Charles’ mind flinched, but he had long decided that the way he shared fragments of a gone-future conscience’s knowledge was too hard to explain.
<< She was there. >> he decided to sum up. << In his version of the future. >>
<< And she could control it? Could you teach her? >>
An adult version of Jean flashed before his eyes, her power flooding over, his body carried into air and shattered into pieces.
<< Logan’s future is not one we should try to pursue, but yes, >> he added. << somehow I’ve been able to help her keep it at bay. >>
The faint shadow of a smile on Hank’s lips made him uneasy.
<< Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to check on Jean again. I’d like to make sure these walls are still standing in the morning. >>
When she was asleep was the best time to do it.
Fragile threads of memories softly taken apart and woven back together in slightly different shapes, smoothing the edges, ever so carefully.
The past had already changed, and not always for the best. Jean’s mother was dead, now, and Jean knew she had killed her. And her father...
He’d been given a second chance and he’d promised to himself he wouldn’t try to fix her, this time. He would teach her better. He would teach her how to control her power, all of it.
But this was not the same child his other self had raised and watched drown in the waters of Alkali lake. All of her power... she’d suffered too much to handle it.
And he could not afford to lose her again.
I don’t want your future
He opened his eyes and looked at the little thing curled up under the blankets.
Even breathing, fist slightly clenched over the pillow. No more nightmares, tonight.
<< Sleep well, my darling. >> he whispered softly.
And off he went, one less bad dream to carry her away from him, one more bad memory stolen away in his pocket.
No more nightmares tonight.