He stared at the woman lying in front of him. Birds were chirping. Sun was still shining, low on the horizon. She wasn’t dead. Her chest was moving in the rhythm of her shallow breathing. She wasn’t dead yet.
Marie was in the mill, helping Scott to bed. Summers was devastated, Marie was in not much better shape, but she could still function. And Jean wasn’t dead yet, but they had no idea of what was wrong with her. Scott hadn’t been able to tell them what had happened. He was in shock. He had managed to utter few words, something about Jean leaving the mill, going out to check the source of the screams.
“Come on, Jeannie... You’re a tough chick. Don’t you dare to die on me now...” He whispered, sat next to her and hauled her on to his arms. She was cold to the touch. He could hear her heart beating. It was sluggish, as if the small muscle had to struggle to perform the duty assigned to it.
“If you die, there’s no telling of what will happen to Scott,” he whispered. No reaction.
“Wake up, Jeannie. We need you. Scott needs you. Wake the fuck up!”
For the first time in his life he regretted not having a more thorough understanding of human anatomy and how it all worked. He knew just enough to take a life, but not enough to preserve it. Tears stung in his eyes, but he refused to cry. Jean wouldn’t die. She couldn’t die.
“You’re not fucking allowed to die! You hear me, Jeannie? You can’t die because I say so! I outrank you, so what I say goes!”
There were no marks on her, aside of bruises around her eyes and the scrape on the bridge of her nose from her tumble on the stairs.
“I don’t fucking care if you hit your head too hard! That’s not good enough reason to die!”
Her hair and clothes were in immaculate order, no signs of any kind of struggle aside of scraped knee from when she fall. He could only hold her and hope for the best. There was nothing they could do. Jean was the only one with skills and knowledge to handle situations like this.
“Fine. Die. See if I care,” he huffed and gave Jean’s limp body a decent shove, letting her fall back on to the ground, then hurriedly snatched her back, horrified of his own reaction.
“Sorry about that, Jeannie... I just... I don’t want you to die. I... I don’t know what the fuck I will do with Scott if you die on me now. He’s... He’s falling to pieces, and I’m no shrink. I need you...”
He clutched the redheaded doctor tighter against his chest and rocked back and forth, trying to rein his emotions before they got the better of him. He wasn’t going to cry. That part was reserved to Scott. He was just the guy who’d dig the grave once Jean kicked the bucket.
“Come on, doc... You can’t die... There’s nothing wrong with you!”
He didn’t realize that he was crying, not before he could smell Marie’s scent and feel her arms wrapping around him from behind. She was holding both of them, her hands covering his as he held Jean. He buried his face against Jean’s chest. Her heart was still beating. She was still alive.
“She can’t die...”
“She won’t,” he could hear Marie whispering, her warm breath tickling his earlobe. She was warm against his back, but Jean was so cold against his chest.
“I don’t want her to die...”
“She won’t.”
Suddenly the tone of Marie’s voice and her surety of Jean’s survival made him angry. How the hell would she know if Jean lived or died? He wrenched violently backwards, throwing the girl off from his back.
“Logan!”
“How would you know if she dies or not?” He barked, turning around to face her, dragging Jean with him.
“Because she’s in my head! She’s in my head, telling me that she won’t die!” Marie shouted, rubbing her hurt behind carefully.
“Like shit she is... You’re just telling me that to...”
“Logan, calm down... I will be just fine... Just give me a minute...” That was Jean. He turned to look at the woman on his arms. Her eyes opened slowly and she drew a deep breath.
“Jeannie!” The best he could do was to hold her even tighter, to the point that he was scared of crushing her, but he was unable to let go of her.
“Logan... Eventually you have to let me breathe...”
“Jesus, Jeannie. Don’t ever scare us like that,” he muttered, letting go of the doctor so she could sit up. She sat up slowly, rubbing her face tiredly and shook her head. Then, all of a sudden, she froze. Her eyes scanned their surroundings frantically, finally settling on to Marie.
“Are you alright?” She asked.
For Logan there was something quite fundamentally wrong with that question. Jean had been the one at Death’s doorstep, and now she was worried over Marie? Both women dismissed him.
“I’m fine... I guess... What was that?” Marie asked confused. Jean stood up slowly.
“You should know better than to grab my bare skin, Jean,” Marie said.
“And I know. I’m sorry for what I did... I felt like I had no other choice,” Jean apologized.
“Wait... You touched Marie?” Logan asked.
“I had to. I needed to get away from Sc... I needed to get away from my head, at least momentarily. I’m sorry for that, Marie. I truly am. But it’s better now,” Jean said and extended her hand to Marie who took it. Jean helped her up and together they limped in to the lumber mill, leaving flabbergasted Logan sitting alone on the ground.
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