LOG: Warren and Jean

[x-highflying.livejournal.com]

Warren and Jean go for a walk, and talk a little.

Jean felt the crunch of sand under her feet. There wasn't much of a beach to speak of, just patches of sand, with bits of dead grass surrounding it. What bits of nature left in Manhattan were slowly being replaced by concrete. She was surprised someone hadn't tried to pave over Central Park yet. The harbor lay just beyond, the water swallowed in inky black and touches of dancing reflections of light from the skylight, swaying to and fro with the tides. The smell of brine and sea and algae was heavy in this spot, and old split wood lined the shore, trying to protect those who journeyed past from falling in, or ships from striking. Most people wouldn't think of coming out at night, but they weren't most people. They could take care of themselves.

Warren had his hands in his pockets, strolling a step behind Jean. Warren didn't often see Manhattan from this angle, usually seeing it from above as he flew over. Despite having lived in New York for much of his life, this wasn't a place he came often. But it was surprisingly peaceful, and Warren had found his mind wandering as their feet had done the same. He knew things weren't quite okay with Jean at the moment, but it also wasn't in him to push her to talk about it.

The shore seemed to stretch on for miles, and Jean didn't mind. "It's surprisingly warm for February," she said.

She didn't like the silence that had descended. It made her think too much about things she didn't want to think of, or people. Especially people.

"Climate change," Warren supplied helpfully. "Did you know there's a theory going around that the existence of mutants is what is causing it? Something about the ability to manipulate various forms of energy and the weather messing with the normal climate patterns." His lips quirked into a smile. "I wonder if anyone has had the balls to tell Ororo." Not that Warren thought the theory had any sort of credence, but he'd read an article about it at some point.

"If they did they'd be losing them," Jean said with a soft, wry grin. She shrugged.

"Mutants caused everything. Why should I not be surprised we screwed up the weather too?" she said, rolling her eyes.

Slipping her hands in her pockets, Jean stopped to look at the city across the way and the tug boats as they passed in the harbor. Enough time passed for one of those boats to disappear into the distance.

"How was the night out with Scott? I heard stories."

"There was a lot of whiskey. And strippers." Warren shrugged. The night had been something of a distraction for Scott, though Warren had arrived late enough that he'd missed the serious talk. Which he was mostly okay with. "I somehow ended up with glitter in my wings. I'm still not sure how. Thankfully a couple of long flights seems to have gotten rid of most of it."

"Strippers," Jean echoed, her voice flat but her eyes narrowed. Finally she shook her head and started walking again, her pace quick.

"Good for him. Did he sleep with any? You know what? Nevermind. I don't want to know."

"Of course he didn't!" Warren protested, quite shocked that Jean would jump to that conclusion about Scott. Of all the things to think of him. Warren picked up his pace to catch up with Jean, catching her arm to get her attention.

"You know Scott better than that. What on Earth would possess you to think he'd cheat on you?"

Jean's boot dug into the sand as he grabbed her and she spun around. Clenching her jaw, and her fists, she stood rigid for a few moments, then shook her head.

"After the concert I told him. About what happened in California. We had a fight.. He said I lied to him. That he can't trust me anymore," she said.

She was paraphrasing. He said he trusted her, trusted. Past tense. The insinuation was made quite clear.

"I've been sleeping at Jean-Paul's ever since."

"Oh Jean." Warren pulled her in for a hug, wrapping his arms around her. He didn't have much else to say for the moment, mostly because he didn't know what to say, but things suddenly made a lot more sense.

Jean closed her eyes when Warren hugged her, still stiff, rigid, though not because of him.

"I keep telling myself I didn't know what I expected him to do but deep inside I did. I knew what he'd do. Because he's done it before. He should know me. After all that happened, after all that came before...with...Jane...with everything...he knows me...he knows I run. I keep it inside. I push him away. He knows, and yet...he doesn't know me at all. He expects me to have acted differently?"

Warren pressed a kiss against Jean's forehead. "To be honest, love, he's probably not thinking that logically about it. Just give him some time."

Jean shook her head. "Why is it...when I think things'll get better they just turn into a different flavor of bad?"

"It's a mystery," Warren replied, smiling a little bit. "Our lives are more complicated than most. And I'm fairly sure the universe doesn't really care either way about giving us a break."

Jean curled her nose, giving a snide look to the sky. "The universe sucks."

"Of course it does," Warren grinned a bit. "We wouldn't feel the need to dress up in leather and be superheroes otherwise." He hugged Jean again. "But not everything sucks. No matter what happens, you have friends and people that love you, and we're not going anywhere. We love you, even if the universe doesn't."

"Jean-Paul says that too..."Jean said, slowly nodding with a soft smile. "I know. And I appreciate it."

"Just don't you forget it," Warren replied sternly. "No more running. No more keeping things to yourself. I will drop everything whenever you need me, don't forget that."

"Easier said than done," Jean admitted with a laugh. "Kind of hard to change decades of personality quirks."

She shrugged. "But...I'll see what I can do."

"Just as long as you don't forget." He smiled a little. "And also don't keep thinking you need to be perfect. No one needs that pressure, and no one else expects it of you either."

Pausing, Jean squinted at him then laughed again. "Wow...okay...scout's honor. I won't forget," she said, holding up two fingers. Though she wasn't sure if that counted if she wasn't a member of the Girl Scouts.

She shook her head. "I'm not trying to be perfect, though...I'm just trying to be better."

"Better than what?" Warren asked with a raised eyebrow.

"Better than who I am now," Jean said.

Warren frowned, looking straight at her. "There's nothing wrong with who you are now."

Jean nodded. "Maybe...but... I want to be able to forgive him. Forgive Scott. I want to be able to forgive myself and tell myself it's okay. I'm okay."

"Just give yourself time," Warren said softly. "And give Scott time. You've been carrying this by yourself for a long time, and he's only just found out. You both need time to heal."

Walking past him, Jean said nothing. She knew it was the truth but it was hard to hear aloud. Because she wasn't healing fast enough for her liking.

Warren sighed, and started to walk again, slipping his arm through hers as he let her stay silent.