After The Fact

Not really sure where the idea for this one came from. However, I thought it was something I should eventually touch on x) Yet again, this is another one-shot (for now, anyway). Jean's thoughts of what has happened in the past few months: mistakes, disasters, and the emotions behind them. Why had she survived when they had to die?

Set after X-men 3: The Last Stand. Jean's POV; Scott/Jean-ish. I do not own these characters, the movies, nothing; except the idea of the story.

So here I stand. In the cold walls of the room once more. My fingers are curled to the slightest degree, but it feels as if they are clenched so tightly that they are bleeding in my dry palms. Anger scourges from the room. However, it is not that of infuriation, it is more or less that of self-pity. Logan had been the one to oh so kindly remind me that I retained the look of the Phoenix. Never-minding my anger, he had been attempting to be sincere while relaying the honest truth to me. But did I take this honest truth lightly? No I did not. Phoenix's hate and rage had apparently never ever really left me.

So as I stand amongst this bitter air in the room that at varying points in my life was the room of safety and tranquility, while also the room that contained my, or rather our secrets, and it had housed us during our tragedies. Now, as I think back on him, his prescience weakly wedges its way into my mind, making it hard for me to stifle back tears. How had it been that I had been the one to lose control when he had come to rescue me from my aquatic hell? At the last possibly moment I had tried to break away, but Phoenix's hunger was far too strong, and who was I to deny a kiss from my lover?

I hadn't exactly known him to be dead until I myself had been "killed" at Logan's claws. When I woke in the mansion, surrounded by students whom I'd grown close to: Rogue, Peter, Bobby, and then of course two friends, Ororo and Logan; I had realized then that something didn't quite sit right in my mind. It was…dare I say, empty to an extent. Hell, the first words out of my mouth pertained to him. And Storm's response to my questioning only heightened my irritation and apprehension; when she would not tell me where Scott was.

Again I blinked and was shoved rather rudely back into the world of reality. I had taken few steps around the room, but this room was foreign now. Even the air was offset after our absence; without Scott's breath filtering over mine and mine over his, the space felt distinctly cold and uninviting. I stared blankly at the untouched sheets folded over the mattress. I had always known Scott to be slightly obsessive about his habits and safety of those around him, however this looked beyond that of "slightly." Anything and everything within the room was aligned so perfectly that it would have probably taken hours at least to systematize the décor in such a manner.

My heart ached. I had forced all others away while I selflessly went in the line of duty to protect those I loved and cared for back at Alkali. Little did I know that Phoenix would awake while I lie dead beneath the waters. And even less had I expected her to act in such a manner towards Scott. Now that I was within the vicinity of our room again my thoughts were centered on him...on us. The room had experienced so many firsts, but my initially optimistic thought crashed as I realized how many more lasts had also taken place here inside the walls. I suddenly sank into the bed, causing the comforter to rumple as I settled angrily into the pillows. My hair splashed over the cotton, contrasting vibrantly with the rather natural colors in the room.

As I lie on my rightful side of the bed, I close my eyes, trying to push everything from my conscious being. As my body grows still, my heart beats out above everything, drowning out all else. Memories flood into my open mind, unusually enough though, they are all my own. The first day we'd met was one of the most distinct in the beginning of the rush; Scott's panicked projections and angry demands. I'd given him my hand to guide him, and amazingly enough the headstrong man had taken it. However, the pressing grip on my hand might have been more out of anger and unwilling submission, but it was still a treasured and unforgettable moment all the same. Our first kiss had been another image; we were still in our later years of classes at that point. Then the room's memories and my own began to mesh, all the while the images enhanced greatly.

The first night we'd shared the room together. We were in our mid-twenties by then, and the first couple to actually share a room in Xavier's mansion. It took a lot to persuade him, or so it had felt as if it did, but he was more than happy to let us have it. Ever since then, the vicinity had become treasured to us. It was the one place in the mansion where we could really and truly be who we were without judgments or incursions. I couldn't even count the number of times Scott had chased me around the bed during the first few years…let's just say that.

Then the conversations of family, children, and marriage crossed my mind. Between us, one topic had always melted into the next. I had a family, a small family, but one nonetheless that did care for me. Scott had been orphaned when he was very young, and was never secure enough anywhere during his childhood, save for in the mansion. This was the main reason Scott feared having us a child; the fact he'd grown without a father made him likely to be critical of himself as one. I had long made up my mind that if a child came into our lives, I wouldn't think twice of being a mother. In fact, I was already used to the idea to an extent, what with the children and students that lived in the mansion…it was hard not to think of them as your adopted family. This had set Scott off when he learned that he had been thought of as a father figure; he hadn't even suspected the feelings, and was rather ashamed of himself when he was finally told and he admitted that he hadn't really noticed it. All in all, Scott and I did want a child, but there was always something that had to come between us and shatter the idea, whether it be rivals, enemies, Phoenix, or whatnot.

And of course, marriage had been a deeply talked of topic between us. So deep, that once it started, it was likely it wouldn't end until we turned in for the night. Each time we started the conversation, it had always led down an alternate path; some angry and others joyous, while some were just so damn unbelievable that we would just sit and laugh for what seemed like hours. Yet again I snapped myself to reality. Marriage, families and children were no longer an option. The man I wanted to call a husband and wanted to be the father of my child or even possible children was now dead, or so I had been told. Those things would never happen now.

The pessimistic attitude brought up another little something into my thoughts; something we'd kept secret for quite a while now.

With one sweep of my hand I tugged open the first drawer in my bedside table. After I had opened it with my mind, my twittering hands sifted through the various objects, everything from bottle caps to old letters, to photographs to a few cosmetic items. However, I stopped short when my hand brushed a velvet surface near the bottom of the shallow container. My eyes had fallen closed, but I didn't know the reason as to why. While drawing in a forced breath, my fingers curled to the slightest degree around the velvet, plucking the object from the masses.

An engagement ring. Scott and I had decided mutually to keep it secret; getting engaged shortly after the incident at Liberty Island. We'd gotten rings, but to keep the status hidden we kept them in our room and only wore them when we went out as a couple. During missions we decided to just leave them off because of the possibility of them breaking or getting in the way, and if we walked around with them on a regular basis they'd be more than obvious to just about everyone in the mansion. It was merely a measure of safety for us; Scott had made the point that Logan would probably be keener on killing him, and everyone knew the stereotypical situation of the enemy attacking those you loved.

However, the rules we made up didn't matter so much now. I withdrew the ring from the box, and it shimmered delightfully as I somehow managed to get it onto my finger. The rules don't matter now, I thought again. I had been engaged to Scott, and as far as I was concerned, I was still engaged to him until he was physically proven dead. It didn't matter if he was here or not, but I would still stand by him. No matter who, or even what came between us, I would love that Summers boy forever.