Jean and Scott - 'So kiss me and smile for me / tell me that you'll wait for me...'

[x-jeangrey.livejournal.com]

Jean's known since the team rescued Scott that what she did in the missile silo is a Problem. Charles finally convinces her that the only way to fix it... is to leave.


He was still... stupidly tired, really. That was the only way to put it. It had been hinted very strongly to him that lying around in his own bed for a couple more days might be in order, but then they'd been all contradictory and told him that he needed plenty of sunlight still, too. Scott had thus decided on a walk today. It was turning into a very short walk, though. With lots of stopping. Today was not a good energy day.

That was why he was sitting on the shore when Jean appeared out from under the trees a little farther up the lake, her red hair very bright in the sunlight. Scott raised a hand in an entirely unnecessary wave. She knew right where he was, of course. And vice versa - he'd felt her coming.

She didn't seem to be in any rush to get to him, but she wasn't hesitating as she walked toward him, in spite of the faint sense of uncertainty he could feel. Which was washed away by a wave of love when she did get there and sit down by him, sliding an arm around his waist. "Hi," Jean said, hugging him slightly. "How are you doing?"

Scott gave her a lopsided smile, leaning against her for a moment. "Tired again," he said quietly. "Hence the sitting." She had very deliberately sat down on the right side, he noticed. They'd had a talk about how twitchy he was now about people being on his blind side. "I was eventually going to make it back to the mansion," he promised a bit wryly.

"I know," Jean assured him. "Didn't think you'd give up on the house entirely and just bask your life away. For one thing, the sun sets eventually. But," she added after a slight pause, "I'm in no rush." She'd thought about having this conversation in their suite where, presumably, he'd feel safe, but maybe out here was better. Less... emotionally charged. "Scott, I'd wanted to talk to you."

He didn't quite stiffen. It wasn't as if he hadn't been expecting this. There'd been a different quality to the way she watched him, this last day or so. The concern was still there, but there had been something else. Something evaluating, if hesitantly so, as if she was trying to gauge how ready he was to...

Scott nodded slowly. "Okay," he said, his voice very low.

Jean chewed on her lip a moment before going on. As much as she didn't want to do this, she did need to... "Charles and I have been talking... quite a bit, actually. About... about what I did. I... I wasn't in my right mind, obviously, but, really, it's probably the only reason they survived at all, and is definitely why he was able to undo what I did. Give them back their minds..."

"I know what happened. Ororo told me." Calm. Breathe, in and out. She needed him to focus, to listen. "I don't... know as though I would have done a lot better if our positions had been reversed, Jean."

"I'm just... I'm scared of this, Scott. Of not being in control. It's too much power for me to just... lose it like that. If I'd hit them telekinetically..." Well, given the shape the door had been in, they wouldn't have recovered. "Charles... Charles is suggesting that maybe I need to get away for a while. Learn control, or relearn it. He's... He's not requiring it, obviously. Suggesting. Very strongly. He said Tibet."

"Tibet... one of the places he went, when he was learning." He'd heard certain stories often enough, after all. Scott nodded slowly. "That makes sense," he said, his voice low and even. "It's probably the best thing, Jean. Especially if you're scared of it..." He looked around at her, and if there was a flicker of something else in his eye, it didn't show on his face. "I don't want... to see you afraid of yourself," he said, his voice a fraction more hoarse. "I want to see you better. Happier."

She nodded, the look on her face anything but happy. "I've left you so many times," she said, leaning into him, "and I swore I'd never do it again. And now... But I can't... If I can't control my powers, I can't... I can't trust myself. And I'm tired of not trusting myself."

"You gave me a promise." His voice sounded old and tired and so very broken, for all its calm tone. "I'm giving it back. I want you to take it back. You need... you need to be focused on what you have to do, Jean." He reached out, took her free hand with his and squeezed it gently. "No... guilt, okay? If you want to promise me something in return, promise me that?"

There were tears pricking in the corners of her eyes. "I don't know that I can," she said. "I don't think I can not feel guilty about needing to leave you. I can only know that I do need to leave, and learn to deal with the guilt, and the fear, and all the rest of it."

"... I'm sorry," Scott said after a moment, his jaw trembling. "I... I shouldn't have asked you that. I just..." Didn't want her to hurt anymore. Not because of him. He stopped, took a shaky breath, then another. You have to keep it together. You have to. She was being honest, with herself and with him, and what was he doing? Covering. Trying to find some kind of static compromise where neither of them had to really face what this was, what this meant.

"I'm so sorry," he barely managed to say. His throat was so tight it hurt. "That this is happening. Even if it's for the best." Scott stared down at the ring on her finger, and the sudden sense of desolation was like a riptide pulling him under.

Jean sniffled, then reached to take his hand in hers, holding it tight. "Me too," she whispered. "I wish I could come up with something, anything else. I've tried. And I know, after the honeymoon, and Canada, I'm doing better. And I still..."

"It hasn't been enough. Not enough time. Too much... everything else." It hurt to breathe. It quite literally hurt to breathe, and he didn't know how he was still doing it. "We can't look after each other," he said more faintly, "if we can't look after ourselves."

Jean vaguely felt that it wasn't that she couldn't take care of him, but that she no longer knew when to stop. But the point stood. "I can't even say how long it will take," she said, her voice small.

"I know. Can't really put a timeframe on something like this." Her grip on his hand was very tight, almost enough to be bruising. "I'll be okay," he said hollowly. Believing nothing of the sort. "While you're gone. Charles, the others... they'll make sure I am."

The real hell of it was that she could hear the lie to his words, feel the truth of what he felt through the link now that it was back. But she could also see why he needed to say it, both for her sake and for his, and calling him on the lie helped no one. Instead she had to go forward with this, follow the only plan she and Charles had been able to come up with, take this small chance that she could fix things, and she had to do it knowing that it was hurting him. And that staying would be worse. "I know," she nodded, voice shaking slightly. "I know it doesn't feel it now, but you're stronger than this, than what they did. You'll be okay."

Scott mustered up a ghost of a smile that lasted only a second before it faded again. He wasn't sure she believed it. He couldn't tell. Maybe it was how new the renewed link was, or how much else was... choking it at the moment, but he just didn't know. Which was fair. "You should send me postcards," he said very softly, leaning in and pressing his lips to her temple, just for a moment. "'Hi, honey, the weather's beautiful, saw yaks.' Do they have yaks in Tibet?"

Jean laughed a little at that, a laugh that was just barely more laugh than sob. "I haven't the faintest idea," she admitted. "How about 'Hi honey, went to a different mountain yesterday, and sat on it. Tomorrow am going back to sit on the first mountain. Wish you were here.'"

A tremor crossed Scott's features. "When... when will you go? You should..." He stopped, closing his eyes and swallowing. "You should go soon," he said more faintly. "You don't... it'll be harder, if you wait." He knew somehow that when he really started processing what had happened, she would find it even harder to leave.

She nodded slightly. "It's not finalized," Jean said. She could never have finalized the plans before she'd talked to him, but... "But Charles suggested next week." Which was too soon, she'd told him, too soon and she couldn't, she couldn't, he couldn't make her, but somehow, after the hysterical crying had ended, she'd agreed.

"Next week," Scott echoed. "I... okay." He made himself nod. It was a tiny, jerky nod. "That's good. Not too much time. This can't... we shouldn't make this any harder than it already is." Because it was bordering very closely on too hard right now and Jean wasn't the only one who was going to be poorly served by too much of a delay between decision and departure.

"If it was any harder, it would be impossible."

He made himself look up at her. I can't make this any harder on her. I can't. Breathing in so deeply that the still-healing rib protested sharply, Scott straightened, forcing himself to focus. He reached out and took her face between his hands, and leaned in to kiss her.

"I love you." His voice was clear, still too subdued but more like his voice. And maybe it was taking a damned near Herculean effort to sound like himself, but fuck it, he was going to do it. That inner wobble could go away. Right now. "I want you to be well. And I will sit right here and wait for you. Well," he amended, and his smile wasn't nearly as steady as his voice. "Maybe not right here."

Jean hated that she had to ask him to deal with this now, hated that he felt like he needed to be strong, that he wasn't allowed to be broken, even after everything that had happened. But, at the same time, she was so incredibly proud of him for being able to do it. "I love you," she told him, reaching up to press his hand. "And I will come back, and you'd better not sit right here, because if it's raining, I'm going inside first."