Log: Scott and Jean

[x-jeangrey.livejournal.com]

The other part of their honeymoon. After the fun in the sun (far, far away from the school), Jean and Scott stay with Philip and Deborah long enough to get permission to steal borrow their plane and get Jean some important closure.



Jean looked up at the rather run down building, seeming considering but not nearly as tense as she'd been earlier in the day. "It really is a bit of a hole," she told Scott, glancing around at the area. "I knew it at the time, of course, but couldn't exactly afford better. And most landlords would have thrown a real fit after my first telekinetic episode. Broke one of the water pipes and flooded the bathroom."

Scott looked up at the building, tilting his head. "Only a bit," he said easily. "I think comparatively, we've been a little spoiled." He gave Jean a small, but reassuring smile. It had been a... calm day, really. Jean had wanted to revisit certain spots, including the cafe where she'd worked as a waitress, and they'd done so at a fairly leisurely pace, despite her initial tension. He'd been staying fairly quiet, letting her process at her own pace and just making sure she knew he was there as support. "Living in the mansion and all."

"That's the sort of thing you'd think would stay with you, really. I mean, flashes of luxury or something. But living here... never felt weird. Or no weirder than doing anything else without any history did. It's been rented again," she said, pointing up at the third floor window. "Those flower boxes are new."

Scott nodded slowly, almost thoughtfully, and looked sideways at her again. "Shall we go up?" Carefully phrased, again - to give her the option, but make it clear that he would be there with her, either way.

She shrugged. "It was really more just a place to sleep than a home. It'll have been redecorated. Hell, they may have even put walls in the studio or something." She paused. "I don't know."

Scott slid his arm through hers. "Up to you," he said softly, then gave her a lopsided smile. "It's not as if we have dinner reservations," he joked gently.

"Heh." Jean smiled at him, then turned away from the building, walking down the street with his arm through hers. "Thank you for coming over here with me. I may not know what I'm really doing here, but I'm glad you're here. It was kind of Philip to lend us the plane, too."

"I wondered," Scott said, just as softly but more candidly. "Whether it would be best if I did or not, or whether this was something you needed to do alone." He smiled again. "Then it struck me that asking was the best way to find out, and, well, you were really quick to answer, so..."

"Yes, well. Didn't really want to be alone, and I did want you here. It's weird, thinking about the way I lived when I was here. In a lot of ways it wasn't living, it was surviving. I've no idea where I'd be if my powers hadn't surged." Although the answer, at least in part, would undoubtedly have involved the man who's phone number still kind of felt that it was burning a hole in her pocket.

Scott was quiet for a minute or two as they walked. "I think we all wonder about the what-ifs at times," he said. "But most of us don't get the chance to see them in action. Who we'd be if we'd been born with average genes, if we'd never met the Professor..."

"I think it's better that way. Thank God Marie-Ange doesn't have to see all possible pasts as well as possible futures. She'd be madder than she is." Stopping at a red light, she turned to Scott. "Do I call him? I still can't decide." She knew he'd know who she meant.

Scott met her eyes, then bit his lip. "I would. In your place," he finally said. "You don't have to, by any means... but if you left without talking to him, would you really feel like you had done everything you came here to do?"

Tugging the slip of paper out of her pocket, she looked at it, considering. "No," she said, looking up again, "probably not. But I don't know that I want to see him. And I don't know that I don't. It's... It's hard."

"There is a middle ground here," Scott pointed out reasonably. The light changed, but neither of them moved. "You don't have to see him." Although part of him was rather hoping she opted for that. He wanted her to get the closure that she needed, and he rather strongly suspected that seeing Thomas might be the biggest step towards that.

"And if he asks?" But before he could answer she added, "I'm being... I sound like an indecisive teenager. Or something. Why am I afraid of this, Scott?" Because that was what it was, she admitted to herself. Fear.

Scott's smile was a bit wry. "Do you want me to give you the whole long list of all the very good reasons I imagine you have to be afraid of this?" He reached out and took her hand, then drew her towards the crosswalk. "I can't imagine anyone in your position being... relaxed, about taking that step."

"Maybe I just need to hear that it's ok to be afraid of it," she said, following him across the road. "I'm... still not used to facing my fear. Hell, all this hiding in the suite, and now almost a month away from the school - I'm still not facing it."

"Maybe this can be a start," Scott said. "Think about it - you're coming full-circle in a way, by coming back here. What happened at Alkali changed your life. What happened this year..." He grimaced, just a bit, before his expression smoothed out again. "It's all consequences, Jean. Maybe you need to start closer to the beginning before you can move through the rest of it."

Jean tilted her head, opened her mouth and then closed it. Stopping right where she was she said, "You know, you're right." And, stepping out to the edge of the road she raised her hand to flag down a cab. "Let's go to the hospital."

Oh, I'm good. With a crooked little smile, Scott nodded and followed her over to the cab that immediately slowed and pulled over to the curb. "Later, I'll tell you where I got that particularly profound idea from," he told her.






Hospitals, in a way, were always the same. Jean could find her way around any hospital, whether she'd been there before or not, but this one, of course, she had a more intimte knowledge of. Stepping up to the admissions desk she waited until the nurse had a moment and then smiled at her. "Is Dr. Brown free? I'd like to speak with him, if he has a moment. I'm one of his ex-patients. My file will be listed under Smith, Jane."

"Just a moment," the nurse said, calling up her file. "Ah, yes, I have you here. Dr. Brown's seeing a patient at the moment, but if you'll take a seat in the waiting room, I'll let you know when he's free."

Nodding, Jean turned away towards the seats, glad to see it was a quiet day and they probably wouldn't have to wait long.

Scott sat down beside her. "Did you like him?" he asked after a moment, then smiled a bit sheepishly as Jean looked at him. "I mean, was he a good doctor. Nice bedside manner and all?"

"He was always very kind," Jean said, nodding. "I was terrified when I woke up - no idea who or where I was. I didn't realize it at the time, but I was lucky I remembered how to speak and read and write, given the extent of the trauma. But he was a good doctor, professional, but not cold. I liked him. He's actually the one who helped me get the things together I needed to leave and get a job without any official identification."

Scott reached up and tucked a stray lock of red hair behind her ear.

"It never occurred to me that when I think of making Nate wear a helmet on missions I should make you wear one too," he said with a gentle sort of humor. "What is it with psis and head injuries?"

"Hey," Jean said, smiling slightly, "I only got the head injury -after- I all but burned my powers out and gave myself up for dead. And Nate needs full body armor, not just a helmet."

"Point." Scott took her hand in his, squeezing gently, and then looked around, catching someone approaching in his peripheral vision. "That him?"

Jean looked up, then rose, smiling. "Yes, it is. Doctor, hello."

"Jane." Michael Brown gave her a pleased smile, extending a hand. "It's so good to see you. You look well - you are well, I hope?" he asked, raising an eyebrow, a trace of concern in his voice suddenly

"Very well," she reassured him, shaking his hand. "I've finally recovered my memory. And it's Jean, Jean Grey-Summers. This is my husband, Scott."

"... my goodness." Brown's smile turned into something warmer. "I'm so delighted, Jean. Really. I know how difficult the lack of memory was for you."

"Yes. I've mainly come back to, well, see some places and get closure, really. I actually recovered my memory last March, but it's been a bit of a rough year. Haven't had the oportunity before now." Well, or inclination, but explaining that could be messy.

His smile stayed kind, but somewhat remonstrating as well. "You remember what I used to tell you, I hope? Everything at your own pace. Forcing any aspect of your recovery wouldn't have helped." He squeezed her hand, then let go. "You're here now."

Jean's own smile was somewhat wry. "Yes, and I had a number of other professionals telling me the same thing after I remembered, too. But I also remebered where that stuborn streak you used to lament came from."

Brown chuckled softly and then looked past her to Scott, extending his hand. "It's good to meet you," he said as Scott rose and shook his hand. "You're a lucky man."

"So I tell myself on a daily basis," Scott said, his own grin emerging.






The knock on the hotel room door was expected, but Scott still squeezed Jean's hand before he got up to go and answer, because she had definitely twitched. "Hello," he said with a somewhat uncertain smile for the man on the other side of the door as he opened in. "Thomas, right?"

"That's right," Thomas Bailey said with an equally hesitant smile, reaching out a hand. Scott took it and shook. "You're Scott?"

Scott nodded. "Come on in," he said, stepping aside. He closed the door carefully, already turning to watch for Jean's reaction as Thomas came further into the room.

Jean still couldn't quite believe he'd done it. She'd handed him the phone number when he asked and then watched, half in shock, half in awe, as Scott casually called Thomas, as though it was easy. Well, of course, it probably was easy for him. And now Thomas was here and she still couldn't quite believe it. Although she did remember her manners well enough to actually stand up and try to smile. "Thomas. Hi."

"Jean." He stopped a few steps away, the smile a little steadier, his eyes very warm. "How are you? You look wonderful."

"I'm... ok," she said, managing not to hesitate too long. "Things have been a little rough recently. You? Um, take a seat?" she added, gesturing to the hotel room's little table.

"Of course."

Scott came over and sat down beside Jean on the couch as Thomas settled into the chair. "Thanks for coming," he said quietly, his own smile a bit steadier. "I imagine the phone call came out of the blue."

Thomas laughed briefly. "Yeah, it did," he confessed, looking from Scott back to Jean, his gaze lingering on her. "I'm glad it came, though."

"Well, you definitely have Scott to thank for it," Jean admitted, blushing slightly. "Don't think I could have made the call for myself."

Scott shrugged a little. "Call it being helpful," he said a bit wryly, reaching out and squeezing her hand gently.

Thomas's eyes followed the gesture, then met Jean's eyes again. "I can imagine that it's hard," he said after a moment, seriously but still somewhat gently. "Not just seeing me again. Being back here at all, when you've been back to living your old life for the last year."

"Confusing," Jean said slowly, after thinking about it for a while. "Something... something happened a few months ago - it's hard to explain, but I ended up being so... angry. At myself, mostly, for not ever dealing with any of this. I wrote that dreadful email to you and then tried to pretend that none of this mattered. But now I'm here and... I don't know, anymore. About a lot of things."

"It's not really a... natural situation, is it?" Thomas's smile was slightly crooked - and very slightly reminiscent of the man sitting next to Jean. Scott, not being the type to admire himself in the mirror, didn't notice. "People aren't... designed to go from living one life to living another. I don't think anyone would really know how to handle it. I can see avoidance looking like a much better option."

"Yes but, in the long run, turns out it really isn't." She wasn't able to keep all of the emotion (mostly bitterness, if she were being honest with herself) out of her voice.

Thomas gave Scott a concerned look, and Scott sighed softly, squeezing Jean's hand. "It's not been a good few months," he said quietly.

Thomas nodded slowly. "Yeah," he said, regret and concern in his voice and on his face both. "I'm getting that impression. Is there..." He hesitated, looking awkward suddenly. "Is there anything I can do? I mean, you called me... or you did, rather," he said with a slightly wry smile, looking at Scott. "And if there's anything I can do... I'd really like to do it, Jean. I just... really want you to be well, and happy." There was nothing but absolute sincerity beneath the words.

Which was kind of heartbreaking. Jean could remember loving him - it had been simple, and easy, and safe, none of which her relationship with Scott could ever be described as. And yet, while she could remember loving him, and admitted that she had done, that had been that other life. Jean Grey had loved Scott almost from the first moment she met him, with his tongue tied-ness and his falling down stairs and everything, and it was hard sometimes, and their lives could hardly be called safe and certainly not simple, but Jean didn't want easy. She wanted Scott. She didn't want simple, plain Jane from before she had remembered, she wanted to be Jean. The real Jean.

For all that she had tried to live up to the saint image she'd come back to after her death, Jean had never been perfect, any more than Jane's life had been perfect, and that was ok. Perfect was boring. And made you crazy.

And, as she realized this, Jean smiled - a real smile. "Thank you," she told Thomas. "That means a lot. And... I think I'm more ok than I thought I was."