A DROP IN THE OCEAN // SCOTT

[Jean Grey]

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[atrb=background, imageshack.us/a/img248/4706/jeanbody.jpg] Jean had gotten the information from Professor Logan, though perhaps not willingly. She’d asked, politely, if he knew where she could find Scott Summers-and then all it had taken was a quick peek into his mind. Really. She hadn’t even found the need to dig around-it was just there, right in the forefront of his brain. Maybe it was cheating; the professor had said, “Don’t go looking for him,” and Jean had clearly not listened. Maybe she’d get expelled. Maybe Scott would kill her. Maybe Professor Logan was more clever than she gave him credit for, and she was on her way to a patsy. There was only one way to find out. She leaned back in her seat, listening to the low rumble of the train as it flew over the tracks. A long time ago, Jean had been mildly familiar with (lower) upstate New York. Her father had wanted her to go to Vassar, after all. Maybe she still would, though she wasn’t sure how she was going to get in with no grades and no way to pay for it. She let out a light sigh, glancing out the window. Poughkeepsie was drawing nearer, the last stop on the train. One step closer to finding Scott Summers. The cabs lined the street outside the train station, and Jean took a moment to pick the cabbie with the quietest mind. Of course Scott and co, the new mutants, whatever they were calling themselves, wouldn’t be close to the train station. They were somewhere along the Hudson, in a seemingly innocuous location. Or at least, that’s what Professor Logan’s mind had told her. She briskly walked over to her chosen cabbie, muttering the location before shuffling into the backseat and slamming the door behind her. The driver slid into the car, glancing back at her from the rearview mirror. Jean wasn’t entirely fond of how he was looking at her-it wasn’t lecherous, just curious-but curiosity was dangerous in this day and age. Jean shot him an apathetic glance. “Just drive,” she told him, crossing her arms. Just let her get this over with. Jean felt a throbbing in her temples-it had been growing stronger in the closer they grew to the park’s location. The driver had, kindly, tried not to make any conversation, so Jean had been alone with her thoughts-until, of course, this throbbing ache had made it impossible to think. She’d been in the middle of wondering if Scott had moved on-if he had another girlfriend, a wife, maybe, someone who wasn’t her-and she’d realized as Poughkeepsie passed her by that the idea hurt, that it made her feel like her heart had been thrown from her chest. But she couldn’t think about that now, she couldn’t with this pain. “Stop,” Jean commanded, and the driver slammed on the brakes far too quickly for her tastes-she jerked forward in her seat, head bumping on the barrier in front of her. She took a moment to gather herself, before reaching into her bag for her wallet. “This is fine,” Jean said, handing the driver the money and stepping out of the car. Her head felt like it must burst, but she willed herself to walk through the park. This was the place that she’d seen, and judging from her headache, she’d definitely stumbled onto a scrambler of sorts. So maybe he’d come out to find her, or maybe someone else would. But she needed to keep walking. WORDS: 616 TAG: SCOTT SUMMERS (OLDER) WEARING: IT'S LIKE PRAYING FOR RAIN NOTES: