Title: Silent Night

Fandom: X-Men, 616 Comicsverse

Pairing: Scott/Jean (Scott/Emma)

Rating: PG

Disclaimer: I don't own anything.

Author's Notes: Written for Challenge #1 at The LiveJournal Scott/Jean Community "Holiday Song Titles"; this fic is inspired by the song Silent Night. Please be aware this is a Christmas story and deals with religious questions. It doesn't take any current titles into account; Jean is "dead" and gone and Scott is involved with Emma.

x x x

Scott slipped outside quietly. There was enough going on he wouldn't be missed right away and there was somewhere he had to be, someone he had to see. Emma would understand. She might not like it but she'd understand. The snow had let up somewhat and it looked like no more than a couple inches had settled. But it was enough to make it pretty bright even though it was almost midnight.

Almost Christmas.

Scott walked swiftly to the memorial garden and stopped in front of her grave stone. The snow had fallen in such a way it covered her name, leaving only the words "SHE WILL RISE AGAIN". It was like some cosmic joke; the stone, the snow, the night itself was mocking him. This grave was empty and yet, it was all he had tonight. He knelt down and brushed the snow away to reveal her name.

JEAN GREY SUMMERS

"When I was a little girl I would try to stay up as long as possible on Christmas Eve. I wanted to catch Santa Claus. I wanted to see the reindeer. So, when I was seven or eight my mother brought me to Midnight Mass to show me the real reason to stay up late. We were Episcopalian and I went to church every so often but mostly when my grandmother was visiting or on holidays. I didn't go to church school much at all but I thought I knew everything anyway. At least about Christmas. A baby was born to a virgin and His birth was hailed by kings and angels and ordinary people. I knew He was supposed to be the son of God and we were supposed to be as happy as all those people long ago because Jesus' birth meant God loved us and His death meant if we believed in Him we'd live forever. I was a good little Episcopalian in my own way. But I still would have rather met Santa than Jesus."

"The service that night was different than the ones I'd been to. There was a lot more music and scripture and very little preaching. And the whole church seemed a lot cozier. Warmer. Then right before midnight they turned off all the lights and sang "Silent Night" and we all stood in a circle holding candles. And it was the first time I ever really believed in God."

Scott shook his head. "I don't think I do. Believe in God. Not that God, anyway." He stood. "I've seen too much..."

"Why does knowing the vastness of the universe negate the existence of God?" There was no malice to her question, merely curiosity.

"Jean, you alone have done more than any version of Jesus did. If Jesus is God - what does that make you?"

There was a moment of stillness. Everything stopped, the wind, the snow, all sound disappeared and the night was silent.

Jean stood before him, dressed all in white, like an angel.

"I'm not God, Scott." She smiled in that way she had, the way that made him weak at the knees even after all these years. "I'm just Jean."

If only that were true.

He took a step and she was in his arms. He buried his face in her hair and for a moment nothing mattered. "I miss you."

"I know." She kissed him then, as if it was their last kiss, just in case it was. The wind picked up and she was gone.

Scott stood a moment more, listening to the wind. If he stood very still he could still smell her hair, still taste her lips, still feel her in his arms. He couldn't see her but he knew she was there. She was always there.

"Merry Christmas, Jean." He turned and walked back to the mansion.

Fin.