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From the time she gets on the plane to the time they land on Muir Island, Jean doesn’t stop purring. She tries to keep it low, loud enough that she can feel and hear it but low enough that Xavier can’t hear. She doesn’t want him to know.When they land and greet Moira and Sean, Jean has a hard time saying any kind of proper hello. All she wants to do is purr, she doesn’t want to talk. She has to force herself to stop long enough to say hello, then immediately clamps her mouth shut. She feels Sean stare at her with a deep frown and ignores him, instead looking down at her hands and fiddling with her gloves and purring nonstop.Evidently, her quick and cut-off greeting is something to be suspicious of. Moira doesn’t think much of it, mentioning to Sean that Jean has every right to be nervous and not to be too offended if she’s not her usual self. (Moira, evidently, doesn’t know about Jean’s purring.) The matter is dropped after that, and that’s when Jean stops listening.She doesn’t hear anything that’s said after that, but what she knows next is that Moira is leading her to her room and the second the door is shut she curls up on the bed and purrs audibly. She doesn’t want to be here. She doesn’t want treatment.
She’s scared.
She purrs until she’s not sure if she’s shaking or if her purring is that loud. Moira explains to her what she’s going to try to get rid of the Phoenix and Jean’s only half-listening. She’s shaking, purring, through the whole conversation and she’s lucky Charles is there to repeat it to her mentally.(He’s figured out several hours before that Jean’s been purring the entire time and he’s kind enough not to say anything.)Jean tries to keep her purring as low as possible, but every therapy session following and every new thing Moira tries to help her—--nothing works—--only makes her purring worse. She forgets herself, she purrs audibly, loudly, and Sean frowns at her, Moira stares, but Xavier says nothing other than a kind hand on her shoulder and does his best to get her through it andshe can’t stop. She purrs until she falls asleep, she purrs when she’s not eating, she purrs so much her throat almost hurts, but she can’t stop, can’t make herself stop, she needs it too much.Sean stares at her each time, and that only makes it worse. She purrs louder, shaking, when she notices him staring. If she could stop herself, she would, but that’s not an option.She tries to mumble an apology, but it cuts into her purr.He says nothing. And after a week and a half, and a day so long Jean isn’t sure whether she’d like more to sleep for eternity or cease to exist, Sean finally slams his hands down on the table, startling Jean. She jumps and backs away, purring louder, as Sean turns to her. “Will you stop with all that racket?” he demands. “That’s all I’ve heard from you since you got off the plane. Enough already!”Moira whips around, shocked. “Sean!” But the damage is done.Jean’s throat tightens. She stops purring. She can’t breathe. Tears well in her eyes. “I—I—” Jean curls in on herself as best she can while standing, hot tears running down her face. “I’m sorry,” she forces out. Her throat is dry, she can’t breathe—can’t purr—she whimpers. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry. It won’t happen again, I won’t—”“Jean—"She stops thinking. She runs to her room. She tries to purr—Her throat clenches—
No, I can’t!
And she curls into the tightest ball she can manage. She grips a pillow to her face, biting it when she tries to purr—I can’t! I can’t! I can’t!
That’s all I’ve heard from you since you got off the plane! Enough already!
And it hurts but she can’t.Someone knocks on her door. “Jean?” It’s Xavier.Jean whimpers.The door hisses open as Xavier comes in. Jean grips the pillow tighter. She flinches when he lays a hand on her shoulder. “I heard what happened with Sean,” he says, and Jean presses her face further into the pillow. “I’m not going to tell you to stop purring. I know what it does for you.”(It doesn’t matter, she’s already decided. But she’s thankful.)“Would you like me to talk to Sean and Moira for you?”Jean shakes her head. She doesn’t want them knowing. She doesn’t want Moira’s hands on her anymore, not for the Phoenix and not for her purring.
She needs it.
“Are you sure?”She nods.Xavier says nothing more. The door hisses open again and shuts. It’s been six weeks.Five and a half since Sean yelled at her.If Jean doesn’t purr get off this island, she’s going to die.Her throat hurts. Her head hurts. She’s cried herself to sleep every night since Sean’s outburst. She can’t sleep, can’t breathe, can’t purr and it’s killing her.She wakes one night with severe pressure in her throat, more than just what she’s experienced from not purring keeping her tears at bay. She stumbles out of bed, into the bathroom, and becomes well acquainted with the toilet and face-level.Throwing up sears her throat, already tight and uncomfortable and strained. She can’t breathe, before, during or after, and after is when she collapses on the ground in tears. She bites down on her thumb joint, she has to purr breathe and she can’t and when she tries she chokes and coughs until she has to drag herself back up to vomit again.Jean kneels there for a while, one hand around her throat.
Hurts. Hurts!
I have to purr breathe—
--I have too—
I’m so tired.
She coughs once into the toilet. Moira’s been trying to help her, but she’s not getting any better.And it has nothing to do with the Phoenix.
Get back in bed, Jean Grey.
Ah, speak of the devil.Jean pushes herself off the floor, rinses her mouth out, then stumbles back into bed, gripping her throat all the way. She doesn’t pull the covers back over herself. She’s not going to be sleeping tonight, either.She coughs. It’s what she does instead.What ails you, child? Phoenix’s voice is gentle, kind even, so unlike the angry, harsh voice she’s had since they came back from the sun.“I can’t—purr breathe,” Jean forces out. Her throat burns.
Come inside.
Jean does.The wasteland inside is one she’s used to: a red-brown desert with deep canyons and towering rock skyscrapers. The sky is redder than her hair, streaked with the orange of a never-setting sun. Phoenix herself stands before Jean, not in the bird form she expected, but in human form—herself in a red and gold uniform.Anxiety grips Jean’s heart. That is not a good sign.“Don’t hurt me.”“Hush,” Phoenix says. She kneels down to Jean’s level and lays a hand on Jean’s shoulder. Nothing in Phoenix’s face is indicative of the fury Jean’s felt from her over the last month and a half. She is the way Jean first knew her as—calm, caring, only looking to do the best for those around her. “You’re hurting.”Jean nods. Her throat hurts too much to speak.“What ails you?” Phoenix repeats.It’s nothing, Jean wants to say, and it’s a lie. It’s everything. Her head, her heart, every joint in her body, her throat—“Help,” Jean croaks. “Please. I can’t—”Breathe. That’s the word. She can’t breathe.“Purr,” Phoenix corrects.Jean shakes her head. No, no of course she can’t purr. If she purrs, she’ll annoy Sean and he’ll yell at her—but her throat hurts—she can’t purr.Phoenix sighs. “Jean. You must. This isn’t healthy.” But Jean shakes her head in protest; her throat clenches. She’ll only be a nuisance, an annoyance. She can’t.Another sigh. “Come here.” Phoenix, in an unexpected gesture of kindness, draws Jean into her arms and holds her. Jean lets out a choked noise of protest, pushing against Phoenix—she shouldn’t do this—but the cosmic entity insists, and before she knows it, she’s leaning against Phoenix’s shoulder.The empathy she finds in Phoenix’s green eyes is unnerving on multiple levels.“Jean,” Phoenix says, “you need to purr. You cannot go any longer.”Jean shakes her head fervently. Doesn’t Phoenix get it? Purring only annoys people. It’s better to not purr than it is to invoke someone else’s wrath.“And you think that will be mine?” Phoenix asks, and smiles. “Worry not. I find it rather endearing.”Jean blushes, her throat vibrates—she nearly slips—she puts an end to it before she can start. If she starts, he’ll hear her, he’ll get mad—Her throat seizes up, she chokes, sputters, coughs and Phoenix is there all the way.“Purr,” the entity demands. “I’ll not release you until you do. You need this.”“I can’t!” Jean sputters with a cough. “Don’t you get it? I can’t!”Phoenix’s jaw clenches with an unspoken reply. Instead she sighs heavily, adjusts her hold on Jean. And they sit that way, in silence.Jean buries her face in Phoenix’s shoulder. She knows she needs to purr, she’s never gone this long without it. But every attempt only makes Sean’s outburst ring in her ears.
Will you stop it with that racket? That’s all I’ve heard from you since you got off the plane!
I’msorryI’msorryI’msorry—
I won’t purr anymore—
She can’t, she won’t. But she needs it.Phoenix flinches. Yes, she gets it.
Then why won’t she leave me alone?
The entity says nothing. Her hand moves a circle on Jean’s back and keeps going, going, going, until sleep and calm and something else tug at Jean and she—Starts purring—She jolts out of her relaxed stupor, but Phoenix brings her down again, gently. “It’s safe to purr here,” Phoenix says. “No one will hear you, aside from me.”Jean barely makes out Phoenix’s words amid the sound of her own purring.