Scott and Jean, Friday late morning

[x-cyclops.livejournal.com]

Just before lunch, Scott comes upstairs with a package for Jean - from the Hellfire Club. Turns out Sebastian Shaw is capable of a decent gesture. How odd.


Scott couldn't wipe the frown off his face, even when he came through the door of the suite and saw Jean curled up in the chair by the window. "I... you've got a package," he said uncertainly, and then wished he hadn't, given the return address on it. Maybe he should have held onto it for a while, not pushed it at her right now... but he was holding it, and she was looking at it, and really, too late for second thoughts now. Unless she wanted him to hold onto it for her? "It's from Shaw," he said abruptly. Too much so. "You don't... have to open it if you don't want to."

Jean's eyebrows furrowed as she eyed the package, unconsciously shifting back in her seat. "The hell would he be sending me?"

"Nothing harmful, as far as we can tell," Scott said with a sigh, sitting down in the chair facing hers. "Lee ran it through the usual scans downstairs. And it's small."

It was at that, Jean had to admit. Not even all that much bigger than a jewelry bo... Her thoughts trailed to a stop, eyes widenng. "Oh my God," she breathed.

Scott gave her another uncertain look. "What?" he asked, sounding worried.

Slowly she held out her hand for the box, not noticing the hand was shaking slightly. "My... I think it's my ring."

He nearly dropped the box. Her RING? What would Shaw be... Scott cut the thought off and handed the box over, watching her somewhat guardedly as she unwrapped it.

"I... I kept it, in the drawer, and then you came and I forgot, so it would still have been there and..." She was babbling, just talking in order to not really think about her hands working away at the packing tape or the paper ripping free. There was a small cardboard box, and then inside that a note and, as she'd thought, a ring box. The note fell ignored to the floor as she pulled the box out, craddling it in her hands.

She'd kept it? Scott swallowed past the tightness in his throat and just watched her, watched the way she held the box as if it were something precious she'd never expected to see again.

Slowly, carefully, she cracked open the velvet box, suddenly dreading that maybe it was a trick, that Shaw had found the ring but wasn't going to return it, or... But no, there it was. Her fingers traced over the braded metal as she struggled to keep from bursting into tears. Finally she looked up at Scott again, looking hesitant. "M... May I?"

It was like she'd hit him in the face, for all the tentativeness of the question, and Scott's mouth opened and closed a couple of times before his voice came back. "If... if you want," he forced out past the tightness in his throat.

"More than anything," she said softly, looking back down at the ring again, but her hands didn't move for a moment.

Before she changes her mind! some tiny, paranoid part of him said, furiously and insistently, and Scott jolted forward out of his chair, coming over and kneeling down beside hers. "Let me," he said, his voice and his hands both shaking as he took the ring from her and slid it back on her finger.

And now Jean's eyes did brim over, head bowing abover their joined hands as her fingers tightened on his.

"Don't cry," Scott murmured a bit brokenly, kissing the back of her hand. Sebastian Shaw being decent. Next someone would be telling him the moon was made of blue cheese.

Looking up, she raised a hand to cup his cheek. "Joy," she said softly. "Tears of joy..." Because while the fear and the worry and the uncertainty were still there, for the moment they were all ecclipsed by the sense of perfect rightness that came of her hand in his, his ring on her finger. Without thinking - possibly the only way she could do this now - she leaned forward and kissed him.

Scott wasn't good at not thinking. For one blissful second, he stopped, forgetting where he was, what had happened, all of it. In the next instant, though, it came back in a rush, and he stiffened, even as he told himself not to.

Jean froze as she felt him stiffen, and then slowly pulled away, trying not to let the world shattering around her reflect in her eyes. "I'm sorry," she said quietly. "I shouldn't..."

Oh, you asshole, Summers, Scott thought bleakly, hating himself. He took a shaky breath, then reached out and took both her hands. "No. I'm sorry. That was... cruel, and I don't know if apologies are going to do any good, but I'm so sorry." He blinked rapidly, his real eye stinging, and couldn't bring himself to try and meet hers.

"It wasn't," Jean said, and she had to hold it together her, she really did. "It was... we have to be honest with each other. We have to. And that was." So honest it burned.

"I don't know what that was." It took a physical effort not to let his voice break. "I just don't know. I know I wanted to put your ring back on. I know that for a second, that felt... perfect." Like a dream. But then he'd frozen. Why? Because he'd been afraid of waking up?

There was so much, so much they needed to talk about, so much to deal with. Something she had to tell him. Sometime. She had to, and after what she'd just said about them needed to be honest, she almost... But she couldn't, still couldn't. Not yet. "It's too much," she managed, although it was little more than a whisper. "It's all too much."

Scott still couldn't look at her. "I'm afraid," he finally said, remembering some of what Jim had said to him, that first night. "I'm afraid I'll wake up and this won't be real. Or that it is, but you'll decide..." He swallowed. "You need to h-heal," he said, with difficulty, "and I can't get in the way of that. I can't." He'd never forgive himself if he did.

"You're a part of that," she said, "a part of me." Breathe in, and out, and don't you dare start crying now, Jeannie-girl. You know how he gets when you cry, and that's not fair. "I'm not going to leave. I'm never going to want to leave." He'd asked her to remind him, and she could and she would, but she couldn't make him believe.

She'd wanted to put the ring back on. She'd asked him. Scott ran a finger over it gently, going over and over her words in his mind. "I don't want you to leave," he said, almost under his breath. "I love you. I missed you so much."

"I love you, too. Really and truly, so much it hurts sometimes. I don't know where I am without you. I don't know who I'd be." Which, after everything that had happened, was a terrifying thing to admit.

Scott looked up at her at that, managing a ghost of a smile. "Has it ever struck you that our relationship is not the healthiest thing in the world?" It might have been a joke.

"And by 'struck me' you mean 'beaten me about the head with a very large stick'." She tried to smile, and failed, but managed a laugh that was a little more laugh than sob. "I don't care, I really don't."

"I want it to be." Scott swallowed, then kissed the back of her hand again. "I really want it to be," he said more softly.

"I don't know if I know how to do healthy anymore," Jean said, looking away. "I don't... nothing feels right. I don't feel right."

"That has to come first," Scott said, quiet but stubbornly. Remembering what Jim had said. "I think it has to come first for both of us."

She nodded slightly, still not looking at him. "You're right - I know it, and I can even understand it. It's just..." It's just that it's so hard.

"Nothing worth doing is easy," Scott said, then smiled a little weakly. "See? Didn't even need the link to know what you meant..."

It one another little half laugh, and it was still more laugh than sob, and that would do for now. But she still needed to hear it... "Is it? Is it worth doing? For you?"

"You have to ask that? I wasn't walking out of the Hellfire Club without you, Jean. One way or the other."

"I need to hear it," she said, looking back at him at last. "I can't understand it - it doesn't make sense in my head - and I can't feel you, so I need the reminder."

Scott swallowed. "I'm here, I'm not going anywhere, and I don't want to be anywhere else," he said doggedly. "I don't want to ever let you go, I just don't... want to hurt you, or let you down. That's what I'm afraid of. Not of us."

He was still holding her hands but, leaving her ring hand in his, she freed the other and leaned down to hug him tightly. "I'm afraid of everything," she whispered. "But mostly of me."

"I'm not." It struck him that it might be a very good idea to reassure her of that.

Maybe you should be... The thought was stiffled, but not hidden away, simply accepted as Charles had said she must. Instead she said, "I'm glad. I don't understand it, but maybe I don't have to."

"I'm hard to figure out," he said with a tiny, crooked smile. "It's part of my charm."

Her arm tightened around him. "It is," she said, "it really is."

"I have to have some redeeming qualities, you know."

"To go along with your absolutely dreadful taste in women."

Scott's lips were twitching almost reluctantly, as if the smile was trying to grow, despite everything. He drew back a little, enough to be able to look up at her, then leaned back in and kissed her.

Jean sighed softly in the back of her throat, eyes fluttering closed, and it wasn't that everything became right with the world. It was just that, for the moment, the rest of the world didn't matter.

"Nerves, the first time," he told her softly, once he'd drawn back again. "Just nerves."

She nodded, but words failed her and all she could do was smile softly.

Smiling. She was smiling. Scott got back to his feet, squeezing her hand once more before letting go. "Lunch?" he asked.

Breathe in and out, and just go from moment to moment, day to day. Jean nodded again, standing up herself. "Yeah, lunch could be good."