10/5 Instance: Grey Areas

[Ferguson]

Timeline after The Trouble With Greys

<@Jean> Jean blinked awake, her head pounding. Was this what a hangover felt like? Because this? This fucking sucked. She tried to raise her hand to her face, but couldn't. Groggy and annoyed, she tried to roll over and found she couldn't do that either.

<Trask> "Jean, you're back with us now." Trask observed happily, standing up from his chair so she could see him as he stepped closer. "How are you feeling now?"

<@Jean> "What happened? What..." Jean tried to sit up, her head and the restraints stopping her. "Owww....." she whined, unable to focus on the face that went with the voice.

<Trask> "We believe you had a seizure. Please follow my finger, don't move your head." The doctor stood over her, moving his index finger from side to side, watching her pupils.

<@Jean> "A seizure..." Jean's brow crinkled and she tried to pull back from the finger, but there was nowhere to go. "But... why can't I remember? I've never... a seizure?"

<Trask> "Have you perhaps had a cold or fever recently? Any extra stress in your life that might've triggered something like this?" He seemed satisfied with what he was doing, making notes on his pad.

<@Jean> "Um... just training..." She closed her eyes, feeling her head keep time with her heartbeat. "Where's my aunt?"

<Trask> "Everyone is just outside in the hall. I can call them in for you if you like." Trask kept writing but looked up to her, offering her a smile.

<@Jean> "Why... why am I tied down?" Jean weakly tugged at her restraint with her right arm. It was padded, with some kind of towelish stuff, but it was still starting to chafe.

<Trask> "It was just a precaution, in case you started to convulse." Trask explained, going to loosen the restraint some for her. "Now, tell me about yourself, just a check."

<@Jean> "Myself? Like... my name and social security number?" Jean moved her hand... better, but she was still weak - and tied down.

<Trask> "Yes please, just to make sure everything's still where it should be in that noggin of yours." He chuckled friendly enough.

<@Jean> "Jean Anne Grey." She tried to look at him, then gave up and started fidgeting with her fingers, flicking her nails together. "I'm training for the Olympic trials..." Jean stopped.

<Trask> "How is that going for you?" He asked in a conversational tone, watching her face.

<@Jean> She shook her head. "I... failed. But... but I haven't been there yet, so how could I..."

<Trask> "It sounds like you're just a bit muddled still, dear. It's not yet time yet for you to have your trials. I'm sure you're going to do wonderfully though." His hand went up to the IV, twisting the stopper back just a bit more.

<@Jean> "No... I made it and I was going to Rio... then something... something happened and I'm here." Jean tried to struggle up, regaining her strength with her fear. "Where are my parents?"

<Trask> Trask shook his head, reaching over and swiftly tightening the restraints again before going to the mirror in the room. "Please send in Subject Grey's caretakers. We are going to have to readminister from the beginning." He told the person on the other side, walking back to Jean as he was sure they were moving to follow the request.

<@Jean> "What?! No!" Jean struggled, arching against the restraints. "Let me go!" She heard snatches of words in her head again. "None of this is real! Oh my God!" Trask's clipboard and pen rose into the air as the bed started to shake.

<Trask> "You're going to have to calm down, Jean. You can do this. You volunteered to be here so we can help you, so you can keep your dream." Trask tried to keep his voice as even and soothing as possible while still holding onto the table for dear life just in case.

<@Jean> "I... I what?" Jean shook her head. She was crying now, and just terribly confused. The objects dropped, the bed clacking to the floor. She... They found out your secret.

<Trask> Trask approached again, crouching down over the bed. "This is to help you, Jean. You understand now?"

<@Jean> Jean hiccupped and sobbed, but slowly nodded, though she wasn't entirely sure anymore... not of anything.

<Trask> He offered her a smile, giving her hand a reassuring squeeze. "We'll get through this, okay Jean?"

[puppygirl]

Poor Jean