Part one of PoV had crawled into my mind and started to fester. I rather liked the concept, and decided to write more about it. And there is more to come. I'm gonna run with this idea, with a few actual plots coming up soon. I'm just playing now <g>
For anyone who has NOT read part one, a brief synopsis: Jean Grey was pushed out into the street, and a car ran over her right arm. She lived, but is now sans one arm.
Enjoy!
DISCLAIMER: Marvel characters. I'm not making any money. Don't sue, I have nothing to give.
FEEDBACK: Definitely welcome!
ARCHIVING: Ask, and ye shall receive, most likely.
Persistence of Vision II: Going Home
by Jason/Foenix
"Jean" Her husband's voice. His thoughts, his true voice as she always thought of it, always sounded deeper. Hardly anyone would know that though. "The doctors say that it's OK to go home now."
She didn't look up. Her eyes remained down cast, focused on her remaining hand, which sat in her lap. "It's still there, you know?" She could see her other hand. And feel it. As if it were still there.
Scott sighed. He had heard her say this many times, and knew he would hear it many more. "Honey, you know they say it's just phantom limb syndrome. It's perfectly normal for you to..."
"No! Stop being condescending to me, Scott! I'm a telepath and a telekinetic. Nothing is 'just' anything with me!" Her eyes had shot up out of her lap, and he was caught like a deer in the headlights of her emerald stare.
Here we go again, he thought.
I heard that! Jean flashed right back into his mind.
Scott sat down on the bed, and took her remaining hand in both of his, caressing it gently. "Jean, I'm sorry. This is going to take some time to get used to. For me, for you, for the..." Scott saw the doctor about to enter the room. "For our friends."
The doctor entered the room, and smiled at the couple. "Ah Mrs. Grey-Summers, as I'm sure your husband has informed you, we've decided to release you. There's really nothing more we can do for you, and while we would love to get more money from your health insurance, you're more than well enough to leave now." He smiled with his half-joke, holding the clipboard with her medical records in his hands, down in front of him.
"It's been a pleasure meeting you, and I expect to see you soon, to see how your recovery is coming." He reached out to shake Jean's hand, and Jean glared back at him.
The doctor realized his mistake. He had offered his right hand, the same hand Jean had lost in the accident. "Oh, my! Dreadfully sorry. I...I'll just finish up the paperwork, and you can go." His face turned a deep crimson as he quickly rushed out of the room.
"How long, Scott?"
"Hmm?"
"How long until they stop staring?"
"I honestly don't know, Jean. But haven't we always been stared at? As mutants?"
"Not me, not in that way. I could always go out in public, and the only stares I got were from men with only one thing on their mind. But now, I'm a freak, just like a real mutant."
Scott pushed his ruby quartz glasses back up his nose, adjusting their position, as they were beginning to cause some discomfort. "That's hardly fair, Jean."
"And neither is THIS!" She raised her arm, now severed off just above the elbow, in the air.
"I'm going to go see if everything is all set for us to go, why don't you get dressed?"
Scott returned with a nurse and a wheelchair, as Jean came out of the bathroom, dressed in a white sundress with flowers on it, and a bag of her things in her hand. Jean sat down in the chair, and Scott kissed her on the cheek. She smiled, a faint smile. The first one in days.
Jean just sat back as she was wheeled down the corridor to the door, to the long road home, and to better health. She let her mind wander, and she picked up the thoughts of the many people around her.
A janitor, placing a new air-freshener on the wall to her left. My, she's a real looker. To bad about the arm.
The nurse at the reception area. Good, one less supermodel to be competition for me.
Her own husband. God, I hope she's better soon. I hate to see her like this. I'm afraid everything I say will bring up the memory, and hurt her more.
A man in a buisness suit, who she could sense was waiting for his own wife to get done with a checkup. That is so sad. I hope everything turns all right for her.
A woman, standing idly inside the doors, just getting away from the slight chill in the air as she waits for her husband to bring the car around. Hmmph. Better her than me. She smiled as Jean went by.
Jean got out of the wheelchair shortly after it was past the threshold of the doorway. She had been coddled for what seemed like an eternity, and had had enough by now. Scott wrapped an arm around her, and lead her to the car. Her balance was a bit off from the loss, and the pain killers the doctors had given her.
As Scott started the car, after Jean had been helped into the passenger seat, with much protestation, a thought occured to him. "Jean? he asked.
"What is it Scott?"
"Exactly how did you get dressed so fast, without both hands?"
"I told you. It's still there."
"Jean..."
His wife sighed. Sometimes Scott can be so dense. she thought to herself. Dust and dirt swirled about in the air, moving towards what was left of her right arm. Slowly, a shape began to form. An arm. Jean flexed her new fingers, and waved at her husband.
"See? I told you so."
END