Jean and herself and a letter that isn't getting written

[x-jeangrey.livejournal.com]

Jean stared at the email she'd written.

Dear Thomas,

My apologies for not writing sooner – things are far more complicated than you could have expected. The short version is that I have regained all of my memories and am working to regain my old life. I suspect I will never return to Vancouver. I would like to thank you very much for all of your help and support – it meant a lot to me to have a friend.

I will send you a check for the money you spent on the airfare, soon, and thank you again.

Yours,


And there it ended. It was a terrible letter, and she had been torn over every sentence. Part of her still wasn't happy about any of it and none of her was happy about all of it. But the sticking point, it turned out, was how to sign the damned thing. Thomas didn't know who Jean Grey was, but she was damned if she'd attach 'Jane Smith' to anything she wrote or did now.

Jean looked away from the computer, biting the inside of her lip as she went over what she'd written again in her head. It was a terribly inappropriate letter – Thomas had been more than a 'friend' and would undoubtedly be quite hurt if she actually did send this atrocity. But, was that really her concern anymore? Vancouver was not her life, had no connection to what was really important to her.

Jean turned back to the computer, not really seeing it, and deleted the whole email.

Thomas,

I'm sorry I haven't written. Haven't really had a chance, cause I don't get to use the computer or the phone or anything much here. I hate it here, you know. I miss Vancouver and you so much – you never should have made me come here. I don't belong in this place. It's terrible. I can't say or do much of anything and I just want to come back.

I love

Jean blinked and stared at what had appeared on the screen, then growled and deleted it quickly. “Stop that,” she said to herself. “This is my home and I don't want to leave. I don't want to go back to Vancouver. I'm happy here.”

I was happy in Vancouver, too, and it was easier there, a part of her argued out of the corner of her mind that made her face up to the hard truths about life.

But things will get easier here. I'm getting used to the changes. It was all just a shock from leaving and coming back and it was all different.

Not 'left', died. The hardest of the truths, and yet the most true. She remembered the walls of water crashing about her, knocking her last breath out of her and knowing down to her soul that she would never take another.

But, of course, on the other hand, she clearly hadn't died. She had come back to the school, and to Scott, and had woken up. And now she could take back her life.

By giving up my life in Canada. By giving up on Thomas, who said he loved me, who I said 'I love you' to.

Jean closed her email program and shut the computer off. She would deal with Thomas some other time, she couldn't do it now. She lacked the energy to fight with herself.

She headed into the kitchenette and poured out some water, taking it into the bedroom. On her bedside table sat a little bottle of sleeping pills. Normally Jean preferred to face up to her nightmares, knowing that they were lessening their hold on her over time and that once she convinced her subconscious that they were no threat it would be safe for her to sleep without the inhibitor but tonight...

Jean sat on the bed and opened the little bottle. Tonight she didn't have the strength to deal with it.

Course you don't.