The Devil and the Deep Blue Sea
folder
X-Men - Animated Series (all) › Het - Male/Female
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
63
Views:
5,406
Reviews:
9
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Category:
X-Men - Animated Series (all) › Het - Male/Female
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
63
Views:
5,406
Reviews:
9
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Disclaimer:
I do not own X-Men Evolution, or any of the characters from it. I make no money from from the writing of this story.
2
The Devil and the Deep Blue Sea Chapter Two (NC-17)
Disclaimers Apply
A/N Goddess Foxfeather, Queen of Mad Plotbunnies, BUSIEST WOMAN ALIVE ™, Prophetic Muse, Hamster Witch and Uberbeta… Remind me to tell you about the evil plot later… InterNutter, TC, Maxwell Pink and Dracena are loverly for archiving/hosting! ProPhile is an absent smut muse but his spirit lives on. ;) Readers/Reviewers: Thanks!!!!
It was all too much. It felt like the world was crushing in on her, like the walls were too close and her breath too short. She felt hot, sticky… she was sweating profusely and oddly cold inside while burning hot to the touch. She knew that she did not have a fever, even as the dizziness welled up within her. She struggled to calm herself, to use common sense and let this moment pass, but physiology was stronger than logic. Jean found herself being pushed into a chair and head ead gently pushed downward, someone shoving a paper bag into her hands and telling her to breathe into it. Even as a large part of her mind flamed with embarrassment, chiding herself and cursing herself for having a panic attack in front of her classmates and worse, her professor, a small portion, the one in charge of this reaction, was gibbering in terror. Slowly, almost painfully, her body stopped shaking, her breathing returned to something akin to normal and she was able to sit up straight and face her classmates. “Sorry,” she said weakly, feeling more exposed and vulnerable than she had her first time with Scott. “I… I guess… S.” .”
Her professor raised a brow. “Don’t apologize, Jean. You of all people should realize that panic attacks are not rational and well ordered events.” He added, “You scored well on that exam.”
She nodded, not quite meeting the concerned gazes of her classmates. “I guess stress just got to me today.” Jean shrugged helplessly. “Sorry.”
“Don’t’ apologize,” her professor repeated, exasperated. “Everyone, class is dismissed. Remember your test on Friday and your paper on one of the three topics listed in your syllabus!”
Jean hunched in on herself as the class streamed by. She had never felt less self confident and intelligent in her entire life. _This must be what Blob feels like, _ she thought miserably as she shoved herself to her feet and turned to pick up her bag and binder.
“Jean, wait a moment.”
She cringed. “I’ll be fine, Professor Michaels. I promise.” She tried to smile encouragingly and failed. Instead, she made a small show of stowing her binder and text book and organizing her pens while the professor looked on, concerned. “It’s just… Oh, you know how it is. Work, school… life!” She forced a laugh and nervously pushed her hair from her eyes. Even with her shields up, she could feel the disbelief and concern wafting from the older woman. “I’ll be fine,” she reasserted. “Just…fine.”
Professor Michaels sighed and passed a hand over her tired eyes. “Jean, your grades have been slipping this quarter. I cut you some slack last quarter but…” She shook her head sadly. “I know you’re trying, Jean, but I think you might need to consider reorganizing your priorities. What’s most important to you, what can you let go…”
Jean frowned, her heart starting it’s hard, heavy beating again, signaling an oncoming panic attack. It would be so easy, she thought, to just take a peek into Professor Michael’s mind. Her academic advisor as well as her teacher, Jean knew the woman had insights into her life someone who was merely her teacher would not. Professor Michaels knew she had gotten married recently, knew she still lived at the Institute—though she thought it merely a boarding school—she knew that she had a full time job on weekends and a part time job during the week, that she and Scott had had a fight that morning… _Hell, _ Jean sighed inwardly. _We fight every morning… _ “I can’t let anything go,” Jean sighed. “I’ll bring my grades up by the end of the quarter!”
“That’s two weeks, Jean,” she scolded gently. “Hardly time to bring your C up to the B you need to keep your scholarship.”
“I’m rewriting that research paper on the dopamine inhibitors,” she began, but sensed rather than saw the professor’s disappointment. “There’s no way, is there?” She had expected the idea to hit her like a kick to the solar plexus, but instead it was like a trickling feeling, starting at her neck and moving to her belly, the realization of an inevitability. “No extra credit? I mean… “ She knew that she was starting to panic again but could not stop the words. “I could write a paper or see if the work study department would count my hours at the clinic…”
“Jean,” Professor Michaels cut her off. “Go home, regroup, calm down. Call my secretary for an appointment so we can discuss your academic plan. You just need to reassesur pur priorities, in my opinion, and maybe take a quarter off.”
“But…”
“But,” she said, herding Jean towards the door, “we’ll discuss it during my office hours. Go home and rest.”
Jean barely noticed the halls as she strode towards the exit. She did not pay any mind to the poor freshman she nearly ran over as she stormed through the east wing of the campus to where Scott was waiting to pick her up. _Go home and rest! Take a quarter off! I will NOT be a failure! _ She stopped in her tracks at this last thought. _Whoa… that was… anal. _ Jean took three deep breaths and forced her mind to clear. _She’s right. I’m too stressed. I’ll go home, watch a movie, take a bubble bath and a nap, maybe pounce on Scott, and then I’ll be ready to think more rationally. _ She pushed through the double doors into the warm late afternoon air to find Scott already there, waiting at the curb for her.
“Hey.” He leaned over and kissed her briefly as she slid into the passenger seat. “How was your day?
She rolled her eyes. “I don’t want to talk about it…” She glanced sideways at him as he shrugged and pulled away from the curb. “You don’t’ think I take on too much, do you?”
He snorted. “You’re the queen of that, Jean. I love you but you really need to take time off of school and just relax for a while.” As he pulled into traffic, he added, “Just get away from all the responsibility for a while and just…be you.”
She nodded, the knot of dread in her stomach reworking into depression. “Right. Be me…”
Disclaimers Apply
A/N Goddess Foxfeather, Queen of Mad Plotbunnies, BUSIEST WOMAN ALIVE ™, Prophetic Muse, Hamster Witch and Uberbeta… Remind me to tell you about the evil plot later… InterNutter, TC, Maxwell Pink and Dracena are loverly for archiving/hosting! ProPhile is an absent smut muse but his spirit lives on. ;) Readers/Reviewers: Thanks!!!!
It was all too much. It felt like the world was crushing in on her, like the walls were too close and her breath too short. She felt hot, sticky… she was sweating profusely and oddly cold inside while burning hot to the touch. She knew that she did not have a fever, even as the dizziness welled up within her. She struggled to calm herself, to use common sense and let this moment pass, but physiology was stronger than logic. Jean found herself being pushed into a chair and head ead gently pushed downward, someone shoving a paper bag into her hands and telling her to breathe into it. Even as a large part of her mind flamed with embarrassment, chiding herself and cursing herself for having a panic attack in front of her classmates and worse, her professor, a small portion, the one in charge of this reaction, was gibbering in terror. Slowly, almost painfully, her body stopped shaking, her breathing returned to something akin to normal and she was able to sit up straight and face her classmates. “Sorry,” she said weakly, feeling more exposed and vulnerable than she had her first time with Scott. “I… I guess… S.” .”
Her professor raised a brow. “Don’t apologize, Jean. You of all people should realize that panic attacks are not rational and well ordered events.” He added, “You scored well on that exam.”
She nodded, not quite meeting the concerned gazes of her classmates. “I guess stress just got to me today.” Jean shrugged helplessly. “Sorry.”
“Don’t’ apologize,” her professor repeated, exasperated. “Everyone, class is dismissed. Remember your test on Friday and your paper on one of the three topics listed in your syllabus!”
Jean hunched in on herself as the class streamed by. She had never felt less self confident and intelligent in her entire life. _This must be what Blob feels like, _ she thought miserably as she shoved herself to her feet and turned to pick up her bag and binder.
“Jean, wait a moment.”
She cringed. “I’ll be fine, Professor Michaels. I promise.” She tried to smile encouragingly and failed. Instead, she made a small show of stowing her binder and text book and organizing her pens while the professor looked on, concerned. “It’s just… Oh, you know how it is. Work, school… life!” She forced a laugh and nervously pushed her hair from her eyes. Even with her shields up, she could feel the disbelief and concern wafting from the older woman. “I’ll be fine,” she reasserted. “Just…fine.”
Professor Michaels sighed and passed a hand over her tired eyes. “Jean, your grades have been slipping this quarter. I cut you some slack last quarter but…” She shook her head sadly. “I know you’re trying, Jean, but I think you might need to consider reorganizing your priorities. What’s most important to you, what can you let go…”
Jean frowned, her heart starting it’s hard, heavy beating again, signaling an oncoming panic attack. It would be so easy, she thought, to just take a peek into Professor Michael’s mind. Her academic advisor as well as her teacher, Jean knew the woman had insights into her life someone who was merely her teacher would not. Professor Michaels knew she had gotten married recently, knew she still lived at the Institute—though she thought it merely a boarding school—she knew that she had a full time job on weekends and a part time job during the week, that she and Scott had had a fight that morning… _Hell, _ Jean sighed inwardly. _We fight every morning… _ “I can’t let anything go,” Jean sighed. “I’ll bring my grades up by the end of the quarter!”
“That’s two weeks, Jean,” she scolded gently. “Hardly time to bring your C up to the B you need to keep your scholarship.”
“I’m rewriting that research paper on the dopamine inhibitors,” she began, but sensed rather than saw the professor’s disappointment. “There’s no way, is there?” She had expected the idea to hit her like a kick to the solar plexus, but instead it was like a trickling feeling, starting at her neck and moving to her belly, the realization of an inevitability. “No extra credit? I mean… “ She knew that she was starting to panic again but could not stop the words. “I could write a paper or see if the work study department would count my hours at the clinic…”
“Jean,” Professor Michaels cut her off. “Go home, regroup, calm down. Call my secretary for an appointment so we can discuss your academic plan. You just need to reassesur pur priorities, in my opinion, and maybe take a quarter off.”
“But…”
“But,” she said, herding Jean towards the door, “we’ll discuss it during my office hours. Go home and rest.”
Jean barely noticed the halls as she strode towards the exit. She did not pay any mind to the poor freshman she nearly ran over as she stormed through the east wing of the campus to where Scott was waiting to pick her up. _Go home and rest! Take a quarter off! I will NOT be a failure! _ She stopped in her tracks at this last thought. _Whoa… that was… anal. _ Jean took three deep breaths and forced her mind to clear. _She’s right. I’m too stressed. I’ll go home, watch a movie, take a bubble bath and a nap, maybe pounce on Scott, and then I’ll be ready to think more rationally. _ She pushed through the double doors into the warm late afternoon air to find Scott already there, waiting at the curb for her.
“Hey.” He leaned over and kissed her briefly as she slid into the passenger seat. “How was your day?
She rolled her eyes. “I don’t want to talk about it…” She glanced sideways at him as he shrugged and pulled away from the curb. “You don’t’ think I take on too much, do you?”
He snorted. “You’re the queen of that, Jean. I love you but you really need to take time off of school and just relax for a while.” As he pulled into traffic, he added, “Just get away from all the responsibility for a while and just…be you.”
She nodded, the knot of dread in her stomach reworking into depression. “Right. Be me…”