Scott and Jean, Wednesday afternoon

[x-cyclops.livejournal.com]

Certain conversations are inevitable.


It was understandable, Jean thought. It was perfectly understandable. Her return had been a shock, of course, and she had thrown him into a wall. It was perfectly understandable that Scott had not come to see her since she'd come back. Jean understood. Really.

She just couldn't take it anymore.

With the link it had always been easy to find Scott before, but now the inhibitor was clamped firmly around her wrist and closed off that avenue of investigation. Of course, it was still fairly easy. This was Scott, the man she loved. The workaholic.

Standing in front of his office door, Jean bit her lip, then shook her head. She was not some teenager to fidget in front of his closed door. Reaching up she knocked firmly and, deciding that there would be less awkwardness if he at least knew she was there, called out, "Scott, it's me."

Scott looked up from the computer where he was reviewing blueprints of the Mistra facility on Youra and swallowed, the tightness in his throat almost impossible to breathe past, let alone to force a reply out. Coward, a voice at the back of his mind accused him coldly. His hands shaking, he reached out and saved the file.

"Come in."

Steeling herself, Jean opened the door and slipped inside, closing it behind her and leaning against it. "Hi," she said, quitely. "I... I hadn't seen you since... since I got back. I wanted to... make sure you were ok." Ok, so this was officially the second most terrifying thing she had ever done. In her mind she heard the crash of water falling around her but pushed it away.

"I'm sorry." It took pure will to keep his voice steady, and he kept his hands under the edge of the desk where she couldn't see them. "I was... it was hard. This weekend. To think. I should have..." Coherent sentences, Summers. "Then things took a turn for the chaotic on Monday." The more chaotic.

"It's always chaotic around here." The second after it was out, Jean realized that that had been the wrong way to say that. She didn't mean it to sound like the chaos was just an excuse. "I mean... Xavier's Institute for Crises. What is it this time?" Talking about the school or the X-Men was just easier than anything else. That hadn't changed, near as she could tell. Yes, there was more of it, but it was still the same sort of thing. It never even occured to her that Scott might not be able to talk about that with her.

"I can't..." He took a deep breath. "You've just gotten back. You don't need to be worrying about that right now."

Ok, that hurt. The inhibitor, which had been a comforting presence around her wrist since she had woken and realized she couldn't shut the voices out anymore, now dragged at her screaming out to all the world that she couldn't control her powers, couldn't help, couldn't be who she had been. Who she WAS.

"Well, promise me you have some help with whatever it is. No use working yourself into the ground." Jean wondered who it was who was making sure Scott took breaks now, who was helping take the burden off his shoulders, even when he didn't want to give it up. An uncharitable part of her whispered that it was probably Alison, seeing as she seemed to be doing everything else around here now, too.

"It's a group effort. Something we've all been concerned with for almost a year. It's really important. I wouldn't..." He cut himself off before he could say anything approaching 'I wouldn't be trying to ignore the fact that you're alive unless it was'. Scott swallowed. "You're... how are you feeling?"

Jean nodded. Of course it was important. It was always important. "I'm... physically I'm fine. Clean bill of health and all. Other than that..." She shrugged slightly. This was Scott. There was nothing she couldn't tell Scott if she could face it at all. "It's a bit of a shock, waking up and finding two years went by without me being me in them. And..." He'd have heard - Hank would have told him, if nothing else. "And there's a problem with my powers." She finally took her hands out from behind her, brushing her hair out of her face and revealing the inhibitor.

Scott nodded jerkily. "I know. It'll... it'll be all right." He was trying very hard to be reassuring. "Charles will help. He... you should meet Nathan," he said suddenly, seizing with frantic relief on the slight shift in subject. "Your powers are similar. Except he's precognitive, too. You always..." A lump rose in his throat again. "You always wanted another telekinetic to drill with."

Jean could hear the strain in his voice and was fighting between two impulses - the doctor in her knew he was under a lot of stress and that she wasn't helping, was, in fact, increasing his stress. The woman in her just wanted to hold him and be held. "Yes, I know," she managed, taking a deep breath. "That would be good. Between Charles and him I'll be up to snuff in no time."

"Up to snuff," Scott muttered, echoing her almost inanely. He couldn't focus. Couldn't figure out what to say to her. This was still too surreal. "I--you're settling back in okay?" he asked, taking refuge in the small details. "I mean, there have been some changes in the place since... well, you've probably seen that already."

"Yes," Jean said. "I've got one of the suites on the staff level." And it's not with you! her mind cried. "And I'm getting caught up on the medical files. Soon I'll be back in the lab on the other side of the diagnostics." She managed a small smile. "Figure it'd be good for Hank and Moira to have more time off for their work and you know me, never happy without something to do." It was meant as light banter, but she mentally winced at it. Right, yet another reminder that there were things she couldn't do, that he wouldn't let her do.

"Madelyn... did you meet Madelyn?" Scott said disjointedly, then shook his head. "Of course you met Madelyn. You would have. You were in the medlab." Why couldn't he manage to talk to her? She was managing to make sense, even if there were things she wasn't saying and they both knew that...

She nodded slightly. "Yes, I met her. She seems nice and very competent." Maybe she should just leave, go back to giving him space. Although she was terrified that if she stepped back and waited for him to come to her she'd be waiting forever.

She was waiting for something. Waiting for him to do, or say something... he hadn't even said her name, he realized suddenly. Not in this whole conversation so far. Hadn't called her by her name. "It'll be all right," he repeated again, uselessly. "Everyone... they'll help. We'll help you... Jean. I p-promise."

Jean was going to start crying in a second, and that wasn't fair. It wasn't fair to lay all this on him - she had no idea what he'd gone through while she'd been away. "I know," she said, keeping her voice steady through force of will alone. "It'll be ok." Eventually. Maybe. It'll never be ok again. "Hell, look at me, going on and you've got work to do. I should... I should go." But she made no move to leave.

He was out of his chair before he knew what he was doing, crossing the room to where she stood. "Don't cry," he said miserably, reaching out to her - and then hesitating, part of him terrified of the idea of touching her, scared that she'd vanish if he did. Or that she wouldn't. "Please... I'm sorry, Jean, I just..."

"I... I won't," she said, just barely stiffling a sniffle as she saw him pause. Acting on impulse, she took hold of his outstretched hand, pressing it to her cheek. She let go almost as fast, unsure what h would do. "I'm sorry, Scott. About all of it..." About leaving... About not remembering... About being afraid to tell you I love you... About doubting what you would say if I did.

"It's not your fault. None of this is your fault." His voice broke again as he spoke. "You can't blame yourself for any of it. You... you saved us, and we didn't save you..."

"Oh, Scott..." She could imagine him, blaming himself for how long? It was always his fault, at least in his mind, but she would not have him holding onto his guilt. Not now. "You couldn't have... There was nothing anybody could have done." If there had been any other option she would have taken it - she hadn't wanted to die. But there Had Not Been.

Scott took a step back from her, shaking his head doggedly, almost desperately. Not having this discussion. This was too close to the old repeating nightmares, standing in front of Jean and trying to justify why he hadn't... or listening to her trying to justify it...

Jean flinched away as he stepped back, resisting the impulse to reach out and pull him closer. "I'm sorry," she whispered, the repeated it more firmly, building up her wavering self control. "I'm sorry. You... you should be focusing on... on whatever it is. The chaos. Not... I should leave." But again, she made no move to go.

"I should," Scott said faintly, without really thinking about what he was saying. "Saturday'll be here before we know it..." Reaching behind her, unwilling to turn away from him, Jean twisted the door nob and pulled it open slightly. "I... I'll talk to you later. When you're not so busy." She bit her lip again. "I..." she started, but cut herself off. Now was not the time for any of it. "I'll see you later," she said instead.

Scott nodded jerkily, already retreating back to his desk. "I'll... I'll come see you later," he managed. "Once I'm.... I promise."

Jean nodded, not trusting herself to speak. She slipped out into the hall and closed the door behind her. Once it was firmly shut, cutting him off from her view, her shoulders slumped and her eyes shut, keeping the tears back. "I love you," she whispered, then turned and practically bolted down the hallway to her cold, empty rooms.