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Post by Scott Summers on Oct 6, 2008 22:43:37 GMT -5
Scott.
His head jerked to the side sharply as her voice entered his head. He wasn't sure if he was deep in sleep, or wide awake, but the sound hadn't been a comforting one. It hadn't been like when he could feel her smile against his ear, her breath hot against his skin as she whispered his name to wake him.
Scott, please...
Sweat beaded on his forehead as he groaned, arms and legs shifting as he jerked again, his eyes clenching shut. "No, stop." He whispered, his breath hitching up into his throat as he pressed his face against the pillow. The voices were getting louder, spreading througout his head. THey were mostly her voice, getting louder and louder, closer and closer together--
I feel like something terrible is going to happen--
This is the only way--
NO STORM! NO OPEN THE HATCH, WE'RE NOT LEAVING HER--
Goodbye--
"NO!"
Scott jerked up, eyes wide, and once the fear and shock wore off enough for his mind to think about something other than Jean's voice, he realised one simple thing--His glasses. He wrenched an arm over his eyes, in the process getting tangled up in sheets and his own limbs. He crumbled to the ground with a short yell and a loud thud. Groaning, Scott lifted his head up and slammed it down onto the carpet in frustration. When the haze of sleep and fear wore off, he realised that everything at Alcatraz hadn't been a dream. Panting, Scott didn't hear screams. He didn't hear roof crumbling and walls collapsing...
They were gone.
Slowly, almost fearfully, Scott removed his arm, still he kept his eyes tightly shut. Moving to stand, he felt his way to the bathroom. He barely remembered getting back to the mansion in the rush of confusion and fear, and when he had came back from fight, he collapsed on his bed in a broken and tired heap. Fingers felt the wall, feeling the doorframe before he gripped the doorknob, turning it to go into the bathroom. He reached out, gripping the sink. His breath still came in pants, but now it was more out of fear than anything.
He had remembered, almost as a fleeting thought, that he hadn't been able to fire as they were retreating. Storm had said something about not being able to use her powers. He passed it off, but...but now...he remembered seeing the ceiling when he had awoken. The...very white ceiling.Hands reached out, pressing against the mirror as he clenched and unclenched his teeth. He had spent so long worrying about keeping his eyes shut, that he was terrified to open them. Slowly, his eyes opened, eyes crawling up the image of him...until he met his own eyes.
His mouth hung open, shocked. Slowly, he brought a hand up, pressing it under his eye. "Oh my god." Brown. His eyes...were brown. And then, as if burned, he jolted back, nearly knocking himself over the tub as everything he looked at, everything was so violently colourful that it nearly blinded him. He suddenlly felt sick with the overload. "Oh...oh god. Oh my god."
When the HELL did the bathroom get so WHITE?
He wasn't sure how long he stayed in his room, looking at every single thing he could see. Shell shocked, Scott moved, stepping out of the room, his eyes blinking, head twisting and turning at every thing that had been once a dark shade of violent red. Blues and greens and whites and yellows...it was making him giddy and making him sick at the same time.
He found himself down on the ground floor, and instantly, he was drawn to the front door. Fingers curled around the doorhandle, and he opened it, mouth hung open at the sight that greeted him.
The grass was a brilliant shade of green, spreading far onto the driveway. The trees in the distance were a mixture of browns and greens and yellows, and as he looked up at the sky...It was blue. Shockingly, violently and utterly blue. He knew that he must have looked completely stupid...but he had never seen anything more beautiful in his life. Scott started to laugh, slowly at first until it came to a sound that he couldn't control, before the tears started to burn in the back of his eyes.
Jean had never seen his eyes.
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Post by Jean Grey on Oct 7, 2008 0:25:08 GMT -5
She sat with her back against the wall, black hair falling down in front of her face as she stared at the door with an expression of distaste. Her knees were drawn up to her chest, head resting on them as her gaze didn't waver away from the door, somehow wishing she could leave this place. The bald man in the wheelchair - she couldn't remember his name - had put her in the room for now - and she hated being locked away. Up until now she had actually liked it here. She felt at home.
And now, she was no more closer about finding out just who and hell she was, and where her memory had gone.
And just what kinda of a name was Jane Doe? As if she was going to go by that for the rest of her life - no thanks.
Sighing, she reached up and brushed a strand of hair out of her face. Something about this school seemed so familiar to her - but she couldn't place it. Heck, she couldn't place anything at the moment - she just couldn't remember. She was confused as to why, but knew she'd eventually get her memory back. The man had told her that all it took was patience - just before he locked her in this prison.
Her hands fell to the sides, pressing flat against the carpeted ground. She had refused to eat since being put in here, and right now, her stomach was absolutely growling with hunger. But she wouldn't give in. These....these....freaks with the powers - mutants - would probably just poison it and try to kill her. She could tell they thought she was some sort of freak herself, the way they looked at her.
She wanted nothing more than just to remember.
No, stop it! You're out of control!
Welcome home --
We have to go back and get --!
And to get rid of the shouting voices in her head.
You're not all right - you need help!
It's me! Don't you see?
SHUT UP!
She nearly screamed, pressing her hands to the sides of her head as she stumbled to her feet. The voices were actually starting to cause her pain. She blindly reached for the door, grabbing the knob and pulling it open. Her hands dropped to her sides as she squinted, her head feeling like she had a severe migraine - and if she did, going outside was the last thing she ought have been doing. But hopefully the fresh air would clear the angry voices from her head - at least for the time being.
Pale and white-knuckled, she silently slipped out the front door and onto the porch, taking a deep breath of calm air. She wasn't going to let these other freaks think her odd for hearing voices - no, that was the last thing she needed right now.
And her attention was focused on keeping the thoughts from entering her head again when she heard crying. It alerted it, making her worry for the briefest of moments, until she realized she was supposed to hate these people. They weren't like her, with their fancy powers. She had no power at all.
Get her away from Annie -- the body, it's too much --
She winced as her gaze fell on the source of the noise. She felt sligtly ackward, obviously for being there, but for intruding on what seemed to be a private moment. She stood there, not know what much else to do. Finally, in a quiet voice as she could muster, she spoke.
"Are you all right?" |
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Post by Scott Summers on Oct 7, 2008 0:54:34 GMT -5
"Are you alright?
Spinning around, his hand moved instantly up to his temple, until he realised that there wasn't anything up there for him to touch but the side of his own head. His head turned, looking at his hand with a frown, before he looked at the woman. Her hair was firey red, however, it wasn't the pinkish red that his visor and sunglasses had provided, it was a violent shade of red that seemed to be on fire at the very sight.
Her hair instantly reminded him of Jean, and his heart broke over and over again, shattering into a million peices as he remembered when she had left them. Left him. He brought his hand up quickly, brushing the tears away. The feeling felt so strange, he thought silently. He tried not to remember how much his world had ended the day Jean had left, how much he ached without her. How he couldn't get her out of his head even in death.
His hand dropped to his side, and instantly, he felt on guard. Who was this woman? Tilting his head slightly, Scott stood his ground. The gate was locked, and anyone that was stupid enough to try to climb the gate would have been on alert from the second they stepped down.
"Who are you? How did you get on the grounds?"
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Post by Jean Grey on Oct 7, 2008 1:02:07 GMT -5
She stood there, rooted to the spot, afraid of what he might do. He seemed to stare at her with some sort of recognization for a moment, and she couldn't help but wonder why. Reaching up and brushing a curl from her face, she opened her mouth to speak, finding it hard to explain.
"Your friend - the man in the wheelchair - he brought me here." She said quietly, leaning her head to one side as she chewed on her lower lip slightly. "I don't really have a name - he just named me Jane. Jane Doe." She continued to explain.
She felt odd, ackward, explaining it, because it really wasn't that common for people to lose their memory like she had - and weren't corpses that couldn't be identified named Jane or John Doe's? Yeah, that made her feel loads better about it....
"I'm sorry - I should probably leave you alone." She said after a moment. "I'm sure you don't want to listen to me complain about things." |
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Post by Scott Summers on Oct 7, 2008 19:45:06 GMT -5
"Your friend - the man in the wheelchair - he brought me here."
Eyebrows narrowed when the woman spoke of Xavier. "Charles?" Why hadn't Charles told him? The man had been a mentor, a leader, and a father to Scott. He had been more of a father than his own father; he barely remembered his own father. Wouldn't he have told him that they had some strange woman in the mansion? More so since everything had happened?
"How can you not have a name?" However, Scott remembered that there had been a brief time, in the hospital when he had been little, that he had been a John Doe. No one had known who he was...
"I'm sorry - I should probably leave you alone."
"Charles didn't tell me about anyone being brought into the Mansion." Scott said, his voice emotionally unwavering, even more so, he realised, than normal. He brought a hand up to his head, feeling a headache that was starting to brew. His eyes hurt, though he figured that the light, the way that he could now see colour...all of that factored into it.
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Post by Jean Grey on Oct 7, 2008 19:55:56 GMT -5
"Yeah, I think that's what he said his name was." She muttered. "Charles Xavier."
She frowned. "Because I can't remember my name. I can't remember anything before about three weeks ago. Charles says I was probably hit with something hard, but...I don't know...." She muttered.
Shut up now!
She inhaled sharply through clenched teeth. That had been a woman's voice, hissing at her from inside her head. That had never happened before. Apparently the fresh air was making it worse. She pressed a finger to her temple, rubbing it in small circles.
"Well, sorry he didn't tell you. I think he only told that one woman...." She contiued, struggling for a name. "Uh...the one with the white hair....Storm I think."
She paused for a moment, probably sounding stupid with the words that tumbled out of her mouth a moment.
"You wouldn't happen to know anyone named Scott would you?" |
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Post by Scott Summers on Oct 7, 2008 20:27:10 GMT -5
"I think he only told that one woman...uh, the one with the white hair. Storm, I think."
He wasn't sure why, but when the woman spoke, talking about Storm and Charles, rage boiled up inside Scott. He had never been as angry at Charles as he was now. Was he not allowed to be told of anything anymore?!
Instantly, he wanted to march right to Charles, to release all his frustration on the man that he called his father. He was the Team Leader for Christ's sake! His headache only furthered as she spoke again, wondering if he knew anyone named Scott. "Storm didn't tell you?" He almost sarcastically, moving to rub at his eyes in a vain attempt to make the pain in his head go away. "I'm surprised."
Of course, in the end, he had no reason to be bitter at Charles, at his best friend. He had no reason. Perhaps they were trying to protect him. Perhaps they were trying to keep him from leaving, but the rage boiled again. He was a big boy, dammit, he was able to take it. He had watched his wife die right in front of his eyes, helpless to do anything. He had watched his dreams collapse right in front of his eyes. Something as little as having a woman who didn't know who she was, well that little thing should have been told to him.
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Post by Jean Grey on Oct 7, 2008 20:34:21 GMT -5
She stood there silently as she waited for him to reply. He seemed to be struggling or something with his emotions at the moment, as far as she could tell. it wasn't like she was a physciatrist or anything.
The ackward feeling washed over her again as she chewed on her lip once more. "No....she didn't really tell me anything. It's just that....that name...." She sighed.
She folded her arms over her chest, brushing hair out of her face again. The long red curls kept getting in her face. "Just - nevermind. You'd never understand, so I don't even see why the hell I'm telling you this. I already told that Xavier guy and he looked at me like I was fricken insane." |
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Post by Scott Summers on Oct 8, 2008 14:45:10 GMT -5
Her frustrated tones filtered through the air to Scott's ears, and his brows narrowed, hand stopping it's rub on his temple. The woman's face shifted to confusion, and Scott shook his head. "You just--you sounded like my wife just then." Sometimes he had used to egg her on just to hear her annoyed and frustrated tone. She'd get sarcastic then, and it used to make him smile. "She used to sound like that when she was frustrated."
He paused, arching an eyebrow. "It takes alot for the Professor to be surprised. Or confused." He still wasn't sure if he should believe the mystery woman; the events of the break in on the Mansion were still ripe in Scott's mind, even if he hadn't been there when it happened.
"Why are you telling me this?"
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Post by Jean Grey on Oct 8, 2008 15:02:48 GMT -5
She leaned her head to one side for a moment. "Oh....what's her name?" She asked curiously, folding her arms over her chest again. "And sorry...I just get so ticked off sometimes, when I can't understand things..."
"I dunno though - I said something to him and it seemed to set something off in him. He just stopped talking aruptly and told that Storm woman to take me to my room." She replied with a small shrug.
Honestly, she didn't know why she was telling him this. He was pretty much the only one she'd had a full conversation with since getting here besides Xavier, and there was something about him....she just couldn't place it.
"I haven't even told you the worst part of it yet, so don't act so surprised." She mumbled. "You'll think I'm some kind of crazy nitwit, but I hear voices. In my head. Screaming at me." |
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Post by Scott Summers on Oct 9, 2008 14:14:58 GMT -5
"Oh? What's her name?"
Scott found himself looking down at the bright green grass. "Jean." he looked over at the woman. "She's, uh...she died." It hurt to even think of that day, of how she had used the Professor to tell him goodbye. Brows narrowed deeply as he felt the tears burn in the back of his eyes, "She drowned."
Goodbye.
Scott clenched his eyes shut for a moment, before he heard the woman speak once again. "Voices?"
He hadn't even told Charles about the voices. The screams and the haunting voice inside his head. "Well, you've--you've probably been through some sort of traumatic experience to lose your memory. Perhaps it's a side effect."
That's what it had to have been with him. It was his mind playing tricks on him. The painful memories surfacing. "It's probably just your mind coping."
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Post by Jean Grey on Oct 9, 2008 15:57:50 GMT -5
"I'm sorry to hear that then." She said quietly. He seemed rather distressed over it, and it briefly crossed her mind that it had been that which had been making him cry earlier.
"And yes, voices. It's why your friend Xavier was looking at me like I was crazy - probably because I am." She shrugged and placed her hands in the pockets of her jeans.
"But it's not just some side-effect. You'd think I'd only hear them about the accident that made me forget everything, but I hear children's voices too, like maybe from when I was a little girl." She murmured.
"It's like, my mind wants me to remember, but something else doesn't want me to....." |
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Post by Scott Summers on Oct 14, 2008 16:00:59 GMT -5
"Everyone that hears voices isn't crazy."
Or was he crazy? Was he just slipping further and further into maddness? Would he soon be unable to function? Would he live the rest of his days in insane grief?
And why was he standing here talking with this woman? He had told her things that he hadn't even told the Professor. He found himself looking down at the green grass before looking up at her. "My, uh...my wife told me something once. She used to have...memories. Memories that were so real that she thought she was really there, or that she could hear it like she's really there. I think she said it was the brain trying to cope with what had happened, even if she couldn't remember exactly where she had seen or heard them." He paused, and then lifted one shoulder in a slight shrug. "She said it happened more with telepaths, but that normal people could have it, too."
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Post by Jean Grey on Oct 15, 2008 19:47:28 GMT -5
"Tell that to everyone else."
Of course hearing voices was the first sign of insanity - that and talking to youself, which she seemed to be doing every so often when she got frustrated at something.
She listened to him speak, leanign her head to one side. "That's what my voices are like - memories almost, except with no pictures or faces...." She stated, folding her arms over her chest gently. "And I'm pretty sure I'm not a telepath - then again, I haven't exactly checked or tried it out." |
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