xp_logs | Jean and Scott, late Wednesday night

x-jeangrey.livejournal.com posting in

Scott gets back. Jean's been waiting.

Jean was curled up on the couch wearing one of Scott's shirts and a throw blanket, trying and failing to read - it was comfortable, and that was good, but it was so quiet. Not that she'd really expected to be able to concentrate on a book, but it was something to do while she waited. As the door to the suite opened she let out a little sigh, relaxing fractionally - only Scott would come in without knocking, which meant he was home, and in one piece.

"Well, that was entertaining in the way that wasn't," Scott said in a strained voice, trying to ignore the taste of bile at the back of his throat. The nausea had passed - aftereffects of the psionic tremors the mutant inside FoH had caused, maybe, or then, maybe just stress - but he still felt a little shaky. He was doing his best to pretend otherwise, though. Jean needed him to be together. "Are you all right?" he asked, glancing at her as he moved into the kitchenette, looking for a bottle of water. "We were gone longer than I thought. I'm sorry."

Closing the book and hugging it to her chest, Jean nodded. "Are you okay?" No obvious bruises, and he was walking, and they'd not locked him away in the infirmary, but she needed to be sure.

"Just fine. A few bruises, but nothing that won't be gone in a day or two. Don't worry," he said automatically, finding his bottle of water. He came back out into the living room, twisting the cap off and taking a long sip before he went on. "No one's got more than cuts or bruises," he said, "although I don't think many people will be sleeping tonight."

Jean slid her feet off the couch so there was space - a subtle invitation but about all she could manage just now. "I don't think I can not worry," she said.

He was shaken enough, still, that he didn't notice the unspoken invitation immediately, and had paced over to the other side of the room before it finally dawned on him and he came back to the couch, sitting down. Calm, he told himself, losing his grip on the water bottle so that the plastic wasn't creasing.

"What did you do while I was gone?"

Tried to stave off a nervous breakdown... "A whole lot of nothing activities to pretend I wasn't just waiting." Her hands were twisting in the blanket, fingers knoting themselves in the holes in the yarn.

Scott stared down at the water bottle in his hands. "I... I shouldn't have gone, I suppose," he said, his voice faltering a little. "I'm sorry. It was just so big that I didn't want Ororo trying to handle it by herself."

"What needs to be done needs to be done," she said quietly. "I know that." She couldn't bring herself to say she had been okay with his leaving, but she could keep from saying that she hadn't. That much she could give him.

He couldn't push her. Not now, possibly not for a good long while... or could he? Should he? If he treaded softly for too long, wouldn't that encourage her to go right on repressing things? He wished he knew what to do, Scott thought miserably.

Awkward silences. There hadn't ever been awkward silences before. They'd been comfortable - comfortable enough to be together without doing anything, but now there were too many unsaid things, too many uncomfortable truths, too much uncertainty. And Jean didn't know how to deal with awkward silences, not when it was Scott; she couldn't just make small talk - it would be false and it took too much energy.

His hands were still wrapped tightly around the water bottle, but she slipped her hand from out of the blanket, reaching across what still felt like too much space all the time, and rested it on top of one of his.

Her hand was cold. That was the first thing he noticed, and it was only by an act of will that he managed not to twitch in surprise. Twitching would be bad. She would interpret it very wrongly. "No one bothered you while we were gone?" he asked finally, forcing his voice to stay steady.

"No," she said, chewing slightly on her lower lip. "I don't know if they're giving me space or they can't face me, but no one came. Maybe it's both."

"None of what happened has to be resolved right now," Scott reminded her. "Maybe the fact that no one came is a good thing." He didn't know. He didn't know anything, anymore. If this went on for too long, her avoidance or theirs, he'd have to do something. Maybe he knew that. Scott closed his eyes for a moment, letting out the air in his lungs on a sigh.

"Maybe. It's just... if I keep on just not dealing with it, I'm afriad maybe I won't ever," Jean said, unaware she was echoing his thoughts. "But I don't... I can't deal with it, only I don't know when I'll be able to, and I'm afraid maybe I won't ever be able to, and where does that leave me?"

"Then you try as soon as you think you might be able to," Scott said, almost under his breath. "Because you'll never know for sure and if you wait that long, nothing's going to be solved..."

Looking away from him, she bowed her head slightly, nodding, not noticing as her hair fell down in front of her face. He was right, of course he was right, but she didn't know if she'd be able to. But, maybe that was how she could tell - if she could make her self try, then she had to go through with it.

Scott tried to think. "There's got to be someplace easier you could start. Someone who's..." Gentler? More forgiving? Why should she have to be forgiven anything? a particularly stubborn part of Scott's mind asked. It wasn't as if she'd been in her right mind through any of it...

Standing up, Jean held the blanket close around her shoulders, moving to stare out the window. "I don't deserve to have it easy."

"I'm going to keep arguing with you about that, you know. Until you listen to me." He said it without thinking, but wouldn't have taken it back. Not really.

She turned back to him, leaning against the cold glass. "I know." She smiled softly. "Thanks." Taking a breath, she shook her head and asked, "So, the mission? Not a lot of sleeping, you said."

"One of the most unusual mutants I've ever encountered decided to express his displeasure with FoH headquarters in New York," Scott said with a sigh, and sketched out, just briefly, what had happened: their attempt to help with the evacuation, the organic-looking coils that had been hanging all over the building, and the darkness that had sucked half the team into it. "... I'm still not sure how we got everyone out."

"God," Jean said. "I'm so glad you're ok. You are ok, right? I mean, you said, but... Really?"

"I'm fine. Wasn't sucked in..." Scott frowned. "Wouldn't be surprised if we had a circle of X-Men sitting around the kitchen table drinking warm milk in a few hours, though. I ought to ask Charles if he can maybe-" He stopped, shaking his head, and set the water bottle down on the coffee table. Talking shop. Why the hell was he talking shop? He'd already left her for shop once already today.

She cocked her head at him, frowning slightly. "What's wrong? If Charles can maybe...?" Some part of her wondered how long she could keep this up, this never knowing what he was thinking, what he meant. Maybe she really had been relying on her powers too much, at least here.

"Psychic warm milk," he muttered distractedly, shaking his head again. "Never mind. I shouldn't... Ororo's got things well in hand. I came up here to be with you, not yammer on about the team." Was he that much of a workaholic that... no, not going there. Scott swallowed, running a hand through his hair and wondering why he felt vaguely queasy again. My damned stomach...

"Oh, right." Jean wondered how that statement could make her feel both happy and upset. Maybe it was that brief touch of normality that came from discussing the team. A little moment when things weren't all broken to hell. But, at the same time... Stepping forward, she reached out a hand to him. "Can I... just a hug?" She still felt so uncertain about this, asking for him, asking things of him. Was it really fair?

Scott rose and came over immediately, wrapping his arms around her. "I even showered and everything," he muttered, holding her tightly. "So I no longer stink."

"Wouldn't care if you did. Just want to hold onto you." In truth, 'cling' was probably more accurate, although there was less desperation in it than simply need. "I am doing better," she said softly. "I just... I didn't like not having you here."

"I'm sorry about you... us being in here," he said, stumbling over the words, his eye flickering around the guest suite. He hadn't explained to her what had happened to their suite. "We can... when you're feeling a little better, we can see about fixing... making it more homey, or moving back to the other suite..."

He hadn't explained and she wasn't about to ask - he had every right to whatever he'd felt while she'd been gone, and not wanting to sleep alone in their bed made perfect sense. Whe they hadn't gone back was harder to guess, but she wasn't going to push. "I don't care where we are, just so long as we're together. Right now, the furniture isn't a top priority."

"It just feels wrong," he said, and tried not to sound miserable. But he was tired and sore, and seriously wondering if he could avoid anything resembling newsfeeds for the next twenty-four hours. That wouldn't be the whole of the press reaction, but maybe the worst of it would have died down. "Impersonal and disjointed..." He bit back the rest of it, shaking his head a little, without releasing her.

At least he could touch her. It was something. If she hadn't needed the physical contact, if she had been unreachable on every level, he didn't know what he would have done.

Her arms tightened. "Then if it feels wrong, we change it. Remember what I said? I need you to be... Well, taking care of you's just as important." She turned to hide her face in the crook of his neck. "Do you want to go back to our suite, or change this one?"

Scott swallowed. "I don't... I"ll have to think about it." He didn't want to tell her about their suite. Didn't want to explain what had happened. And even if he could put it back precisely the way it had been, it wouldn't really change anything.

"Okay," she said, not moving. There was something, but she wasn't going to push, didn't have the energy to push. And besides, if he thought she wouldn't want to know, he was probably right.

He gave a shaky laugh. "We're standing in the middle of the room clinging to each other again. I think we have an aversion to seats."

"It's hard to cling properly in a chair," Jean told his shoulder. "I mean, unless there's sitting on of laps then there's enitre body parts that don't get to cling, and that's unacceptable. The alternative is lying down, but that involves going to the bedroom, which involves moving. Which is effort."

"I can't even be gallant and offer to carry you, because I'd drop you on your ass," was Scott's exhausted reply. "Which would be a lousy end to an even lousier day."

Jean looked up, smiling suddenly. "Then I get to be gallant." Carefully she used her tk to sweep him up off his feet and into her arms.

Scott proceeded to surprise himself - and probably her as well - with a sudden burst of laughter and the first real smile in what felt like... well, forever. "You have got to be kidding me." At least she was levitating too, he noticed. That wasn't quite so bad. "My poor pride..."

The laughter and the smile made it all worth it and then some. "Fah to your pride," she said. "Am doing this so I can cling properly while you sleep, so it's not like I have any pride either, and the door is closed. And locked. And no one would dare come in anyway." The door to the bedroom opened by itself as she manuvered through it.

They wound up in something of a tangle on the bed, but Scott didn't care. It was too good to have seen her expression brighten like it had. If she'd dropped him on his head, it still would have been worth it.

"Bed's not bad, you know," he said, "for standard-issue. Although I haven't spent much time in it over the last month..."

"I maintain a cardboard box would be good, as long as you were there."

His real eye blurred with tears suddenly and he shifted around carefully, just enough to be able to hold onto her properly. The sudden surge of desperate tenderness was so strong it hurt.

Her head pillowed on his arm, Jean closed her eyes for a minute, just breathing in time with him.

She was here, she wasn't going anywhere, she wanted to be here... Scott repeated those three keys points to himself, his own eyelids drooping as the fatigue finally caught up with him.

"I love you," Jean whispered. Opening her eyes she saw he was drifting off and smiled slightly. "I love you, and I'm not going anywhere."