The Rose: Homecoming

[x-jeangrey.livejournal.com]

In the wee hours of the morning, the plane lands.



"It's... um, more or less just as you left it," Scott said as he followed Jean into the suite. It felt like he was confessing something vaguely embarassing, that he hadn't done anything with the suite in four months to make it more home-like.

Jean's first response, that at least this time he hadn't destroyed the apartment was discarded out of hand. She was not bringing that up. "So I see," she said, setting her small case down by the door. It seemed strange to have to so little coming back, but she hadn't exactly taken her entire wardrobe to Tibet. "Heya, Horatio," Jean said, moving over to peer into the tank. "Bet you didn't miss me, did you?"

The turtle swam placidly in his tank, ignoring her completely. Scott opened his mouth to say something - and paused, looking mildly worried as a black and white head appeared around the bedroom door. "Umm. She's new, though," he said.

"She?" Jean asked, surprised, glancing up. Following his gaze she spotted the little cat making her way imperiously out of the bedroom. "Oh, hello." Looking back over at Scott, she smiled. "This is becoming a habbit, Scott. I leave, you get a new pet. What's her name?"

"Des. Desdemona," he said, flushing as he gazed at the little cat. Please be good. "Rahne's fault, actually..." Des meowed and came over to sit down at Jean's feet, looking up at her thoughtfully. "Obviously I have to keep her in here. Charles and his allergy..."

Jean nodded, eyeing the cat back. "Yes, that's why I could never have pets as a child." Crouching down, she offered the back of a finger for the cat to sniff. "Hello, Desdemona. Aren't you pretty."

Des sniffed the offered finger, then gave Jean a very, very dubious look. "Mew," she pronounced, dismissively - and darted away, leaping to the back of the couch. There, she settled down, keeping a wary eye on Jean.

"Well, at least she didn't bite you..." Scott coughed as Jean looked back at him. "She doesn't like Ororo. I'm not sure why."

"Protective and possessive of you?" Jean arched an eyebrow, standing up and smiling at him. "Well, that sounds familiar."

"She has such an attitude. Even when I first got her, when she was so tiny..." Why were they talking about his cat? Scott rubbed at the scars on his face, then looked around a bit helplessly. "I think I need some aspirin," he said, and beat a hasty retreat into the bathroom.

He just needed a moment. Really.

Jean watched him vanish into the bathroom, biting at the inside of her lip. Why did everything with them end up so... there wasn't even a word for it. How could this room, this house, feel so much like home, and so alien, all at once? Sighing, she toed off her shoes and curled up in the corner of the couch, pulling her legs up so she could wrap her arms around them and rest her chin on her knees. The link, which had been a quiet, dull glow while she'd been half way around the world, now pulsed at her, tempting her to reach out, but... Always they fell back on her telepathy to understand each other, not talking about things, and surely that wasn't normal.

When he finally came back out, she smiled weekly up at him. "Hey."

"Hey." He stared down at her for a moment, mouth twitching helplessly. "I'm just realizing how nuts this is," he finally said, sinking down onto the couch next to her. "There are all these things we probably have to say to each other. And we had to put them all aside for twenty-four hours because we had to rescue an ancient artifact from the henchwoman of a genocidal maniac. They ought to make a television show of our lives."

"It would be half action drama, half soap opera. Who would watch that? Really, I don't think the viewers would be able to pull off the necessary suspension of disbelief. I mean, it's not even been two years since I came back from the dead."

Scott opened his mouth - and then closed it again, giving his head a quizzical shake. "I was just wondering about Charles's role... this is leading into weird territory, I think." He took a deep breath, some of the visible tension in his shoulders relaxing as he met Jean's eyes. "I have missed you," he said more quietly.

"I've missed you," she said, shifting to be able to reach over and cup his cheek in her hand, "so much. I'm sorry. Sorry about everything. Sorry I couldn't be here for you."

He wasn't going to brush off the apology. It was on the tip of his tongue to do just that, but he had learned a few things in the last four months. Thankfully. He looked up at her instead, forcing a rather crooked smile. "I'm kind of sorry you weren't here myself, but... you're here now. We're here now. I've gotten used to..." No, that wasn't the phrasing he wanted, definitely not. "I don't want you to think I'm not really glad you are here. I am. If I act like I'm not sure what to make of the fact that we are both here, it's just because I've been doing my best hermit impression, really. Personally speaking, I mean." And now he was rambling.

"I... can understand. Tibet was... very, very quiet. Good for me, but lonely. And now I.., don't really know what to say. I went for weeks without talking to anyone at all, and the conversations with the monks were, um, brief to say the least. And I'd hold all these conversations in my head - with you, with Charles, with... with myself. And now... now I don't know. So much to say, that none of it gets said." Clasping her hands together to keep from fidgeting, she smiled an equally uncertain smile back at him.

Scott hesitated, but decided to ask it anyway. "Were you ready to come home?" he asked. "Really?"

"Yes," Jean said, and there was no hesitation in her voice. "The monks don't think so, but they... want me to be Charles. Maybe they're right; it's too difficult a power, and too much, to not be that controlled. But... it's not me. I could stay there for decades and I'd never have his self control." Her smile was wry as she added, "Redheaded temperament, and all." She shook her head. "But, I'm comfortable with myself, in a way I haven't been in a long time. More centered and more controlled, yes, but also... less afraid of myself. Of not being controlled."

Scott was silent for a moment, as if mulling over her words. "That's good," he finally said, and his smile was more steady as he looked up at her. "Well, no, actually, it's really good. I knew you could get there," he said, more softly.

"You always did have more faith in me than I did," Jean said. "And..." This time she did hesitate. "How about you? How are you doing?"

Scott's smile went a little lopsided again. But his voice, when he spoke, was steady. "Better than I was. I've been... taking things slow. Maybe too slow, I don't know. But then, I didn't hesitate to jump right back into it when you called." He actually laughed, if a bit tiredly. "I'm a little amazed Logan and Marie didn't question that. This is the first time I've been out in the field since Sand Diego."

Jean's eyebrows rose at that, but then she nodded. "I can understand that, yes. And I... I haven't been here, so I don't know, but I don't think taking it slowly could have been wrong. Not after... everything."

"Everyone's been really patient. I imagine they still have their doubts... I know I do, still." Scott was quiet again for a moment. "But I don't think I ever gave myself enough credit," he went on more slowly, "for the things that I did right. And besides, when you're ripping your guts out over what you can't change, you lose sight of what can be done. I don't intend to do that again."

Jean nodded. Reaching out she hesitantly took his hand. It took her a few moments to find the right words for what she wanted to say. "You're so much stronger than you think you are." Bringing his hand to her lips, she kissed the back of his fingers lightly. "I love you, Scott, and I have missed so many chances to tell you that."

Scott cleared his throat, staring down at their joined hands for a moment. "All those practice conversations," he said, not quite lightly. "Really helped you come up with precisely the right thing to say, didn't they?"

"They all seemed to desert me the moment I actually saw you, and mostly they revolved around tearful apologies, so I hope you don't mid if I wing it." She squeezed his hand lightly.

"I've developed a new love for spontaneity since you've been gone. Wait until you see what's in the garage." Scott laughed a bit helplessly, squeezing back. "Look, there are... so many things we probably need to say to each other, and so much we need to talk about. But we've both been knocked out today, and I suspect all of those conversations are best held when we're not loopy with fatigue and mild concussions."

"You make a very good point," Jean admitted. Unfolding her legs, she stood up without letting go of his hand. "Bed?" she asked, tugging him to his feet.

"... yeah," Scott said after a moment, very softly, and if there was hesitation in his voice it was more about not being sure this was all really happening than anything else. Maybe it was the concussion, making this all feel so surreal.

Des yawned, and glared at Jean. Scott coughed in sudden amusement. "Uh... I forgot to mention, I haven't quite taught her how to not sleep on the bed just yet."

Jean considered the cat and then, since Scott was standing so close, wrapped her arms around him in a loose hug. Smiling at him she said, "Then she's just going to have to learn how to share, isn't she?"