Scott and Jean, Tuesday night

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Scott and Jean talk about the day's 'news'.


He'd decided to make dinner. Not that he was a fantastic cook by any strength of the imagination, but he felt like he needed to do something for Jean, because the moroseness on the link hadn't quite faded, even hours later. Moving around the kitchen and making dinner was somewhat challenging, what with the crutches, but he managed.

It was time to go home. Jean knew that, told herself once again even as she hesitated at the top of the stairs. And surely it was better to be with Scott, even while feeling this bad, than to feel like this on her own. She almost wanted to convince herself that she didn't know why she was so reluctant. That she wasn't sure why she'd sent the email instead of coming to tell him herself. That she hadn't known, even before she'd sent it, just how divergent their reactions would be.

But she had known and she did know, and enough was enough. Straightening her shoulders she set off down the hall towards the door to their suite. There might be a down cast to her face, but there were no tear tracks, no redness or over bright eyes. Steeling herself once more, she opened the door to their home and slipped inside with a quiet, "Hey."

"Hey," Scott said, just as quietly, from the vicinity of the stove. "I'm making dinner. I figured you might not have eaten, today..." He offered a very faint smile. "It's just pasta. You know the limits of my culinary skill."

"More or less on par with my own, yes," she said, toeing out of her shoes and padding across the room. "It's a good thing we're both such excellent take-out-ers." Weak as jokes went, but it was the thought that counted, surely.

"Yeah. Good thing." Scott started to chop the vegetables, looking sideways at her as she approached. "Are you okay?" he asked, his tone still a little uncertain, but gentle.

"Yes," she said, her voice steady, and it was the truth, or mostly. Pulling out one of the chairs at the dinner table she sat down, watching him. "I am, or I will be. You?" Which was a stupid question, and the answer was probably 'over the moon with glee', but she had to ask.

"I'm..." Ashamed of having been relieved? "Thinking," he said instead, and was surprised to realize that it was true. "I've been thinking, I mean," he elaborated, a bit awkwardly. "All week, but... today, too." Well. He was doing just remarkably at this communication thing, wasn't he?

"Oh?" Thinking. Huh. Well, that could be... could be good, could be bad. Could be anything. Jean sternly reminded herself not to leap to conclusions. Or hopes. Starting to hope was really what had made today so hellish, when all of them just died.

"Just... weighing things," Scott said, more evasively then he'd intended. "Pros, cons. Rational cons, not just the dumb paranoid stuff..."

"There are several," Jean admitted. She'd gone over lists in her head this last week. "Some more compelling than others."

"All that I'm sure about," Scott said, dropping the vegetables in the frying pan, "is that it's not fair of me to keep avoiding the issue like I have been. Especially given how you feel about it."

"It's not about fair, Scott," Jean said, propping her elbow on the table and resting her cheek in her hand. "I've known how you felt about being a father for a very long time, and you've known how I felt. Honestly, I didn't want to push. I thought, either someday you'd be ready to talk about it, or you wouldn't, and that would be that."

"It is about fair, because I'm not being honest. We told ourselves we needed to communicate properly, after what happened last year... me avoiding the subject and just trusting you to know what I'm feeling is part of the same old pattern that got us in trouble in the first place."

Jean opened her mouth, then closed it again, thinking over her response. FInally she said, "You're right. I can't argue with that. And, actually, I'd kind of like to. Arguing... being angry would be easier than this."

Scott tried not to wince too visibly. Just an observation? "I was actually kind of hoping that we could just talk..."

Jean did catch the wince, though, and sighed. "Sorry," she said, "I didn't mean I wanted to be angry at you. I'm just... Anger's simpler than... Well, than this. For both of us. You're not the only one who's had reservations at times. I just... have fewer of them. I..." She stopped again, trying to focus her mind and calm herself, and really not quite managing it. "Talking would be good," she said after a second. "You're right, and it would be really good. But I don't think I can do it just now. It's been a very long day. Can we just... Just do the dinner thing, and watch a movie, and just be together? And promise ourselves to talk about it later?"

"Okay," Scott said quietly, and then winced, reaching out to turn down the heat. Burned vegetables were not in the plan, here.