(no subject)
It was three o'clock in the morning. Jean knew this because she'd been lying in bed staring at the bedside alarm for two hours. The two before that had been spent tossing and turning in the vain hopes of finding a comfortable position and drifting to sleep. That was obviously not happening. With a sigh of frustration and exhaustion, she flipped back the covers and slid out of bed.
Jean padded down the hall, refusing to glance in the mirror hanging in the hall that she was passing. She already knew what she'd see. An over sized Bard University t-shirt that had seen better days, and thick woolen socks. A rats nest of thick red hair that would take hours to comb out unless she washed it. No make-up revealing pale skin and a trail of freckles across her nose. And the best part was the thick glasses. This late at night she'd be lucky to read the remote, much less make out what they were doing without them.
She dug through the back of the movie cabinet and soon produced her favorite old movie: Duck Soup. She could watch the Marx Brothers for hours and never get bored. Of course Scott had never approved of her taste in comedy. He'd also looked like he'd woken up next to Medusa the first morning he saw her looking like she did now. Scott was so clean cut and white bread himself, he couldn't stand being with someone who wasn't. Maybe it was a good thing that he'd found Emma. She'd be good enough for him. Perfect enough for him.
She curled up in a corner of the couch and started the movie, letting the magic sweep her away. Make her forget. She absently lighted a cigarette and watched the smoke drift across to the room, across the screen, and out the open window. She wondered what Logan would think of her. If he were to walk into the room that very minute and see her sitting there. What would he think? What would he say?
Would he laugh at her? Run screaming into the night? Get that horrified look on his face that she saw so often as a girl when her mother would introduce Jean's perfect sister Sarah first and then her other daughter? Would he beg her to go away and not come back until she was wearing a thick layer of make-up with perfectly styled hair and clothes to match? Who knew. As a telepath, Jean could very easily look into his mind and find the answers to all of her questions. But she never would. Partly because of her moral code, and partly because Logan would never forgive her for betraying his trust, digging through his thoughts without permission. But mostly because she was a coward.
If he was going to reject this Jean, she didn't want to know about it until it happened. She would much prefer to live in her happy delusion where he wouldn't care what she looked like. Where no one would care. Where she didn't have to hide herself away until Max Factor had worked his magic. Where men like the Professor wouldn't have her skip school to spend the day at a beauty salon so she would be "presentable". 'Jean, I've arranged for you to spend the day at a place in New York City. They'll take care of your little... Appearance problem... Don't worry about the cost, my dear. Anything to help you fit in better...' Where women like her mother wouldn't pick at every detail, constantly reminding her how deficient she was. 'Such a shame she couldn't have been born with more fashionable looks like her sister. That hair is just so gaudy. And it stands out in a family portrait. Looks like she doesn't even belong. Perhaps she could dye it, but that girl would refuse I'm certain.' And those she cared about wouldn't be put off by it when she didn't feel like spending three hours every single day perfecting herself. 'Jean! What on Earth happened to your hair? It looks horrible. And what is that on your nose? What don't you use... Something... To cover that up, it's disgusting.'
Glancing down, she realized the cigarette she'd been holding had burned itself to ashes and gone out. Jean hadn't realized that she'd been that distracted. Lifting a new one to her lips, she lit the end and took a long, calming drag. Shaking her head in an attempt to clear her mind, Jean turned her attention back to the television. Now more then ever she needed a distraction...
Jean padded down the hall, refusing to glance in the mirror hanging in the hall that she was passing. She already knew what she'd see. An over sized Bard University t-shirt that had seen better days, and thick woolen socks. A rats nest of thick red hair that would take hours to comb out unless she washed it. No make-up revealing pale skin and a trail of freckles across her nose. And the best part was the thick glasses. This late at night she'd be lucky to read the remote, much less make out what they were doing without them.
She dug through the back of the movie cabinet and soon produced her favorite old movie: Duck Soup. She could watch the Marx Brothers for hours and never get bored. Of course Scott had never approved of her taste in comedy. He'd also looked like he'd woken up next to Medusa the first morning he saw her looking like she did now. Scott was so clean cut and white bread himself, he couldn't stand being with someone who wasn't. Maybe it was a good thing that he'd found Emma. She'd be good enough for him. Perfect enough for him.
She curled up in a corner of the couch and started the movie, letting the magic sweep her away. Make her forget. She absently lighted a cigarette and watched the smoke drift across to the room, across the screen, and out the open window. She wondered what Logan would think of her. If he were to walk into the room that very minute and see her sitting there. What would he think? What would he say?
Would he laugh at her? Run screaming into the night? Get that horrified look on his face that she saw so often as a girl when her mother would introduce Jean's perfect sister Sarah first and then her other daughter? Would he beg her to go away and not come back until she was wearing a thick layer of make-up with perfectly styled hair and clothes to match? Who knew. As a telepath, Jean could very easily look into his mind and find the answers to all of her questions. But she never would. Partly because of her moral code, and partly because Logan would never forgive her for betraying his trust, digging through his thoughts without permission. But mostly because she was a coward.
If he was going to reject this Jean, she didn't want to know about it until it happened. She would much prefer to live in her happy delusion where he wouldn't care what she looked like. Where no one would care. Where she didn't have to hide herself away until Max Factor had worked his magic. Where men like the Professor wouldn't have her skip school to spend the day at a beauty salon so she would be "presentable". 'Jean, I've arranged for you to spend the day at a place in New York City. They'll take care of your little... Appearance problem... Don't worry about the cost, my dear. Anything to help you fit in better...' Where women like her mother wouldn't pick at every detail, constantly reminding her how deficient she was. 'Such a shame she couldn't have been born with more fashionable looks like her sister. That hair is just so gaudy. And it stands out in a family portrait. Looks like she doesn't even belong. Perhaps she could dye it, but that girl would refuse I'm certain.' And those she cared about wouldn't be put off by it when she didn't feel like spending three hours every single day perfecting herself. 'Jean! What on Earth happened to your hair? It looks horrible. And what is that on your nose? What don't you use... Something... To cover that up, it's disgusting.'
Glancing down, she realized the cigarette she'd been holding had burned itself to ashes and gone out. Jean hadn't realized that she'd been that distracted. Lifting a new one to her lips, she lit the end and took a long, calming drag. Shaking her head in an attempt to clear her mind, Jean turned her attention back to the television. Now more then ever she needed a distraction...