This is the accompanying piece to "My Last Breath", in the sense that something in this relates to something in that. I doubt I could be more vague. My only X Men fics so far, and as I have enough on my plate I doubt I'll become a very established writer in the section. Which means this will only be seen once, so please review. It always helps when I receive constructive criticism, and even a "Great story, I liked ----" can really perk up my day. And I always check out what type of things my reviewers write, so if you have any fic suggestions, I'd love to hear them. ^-^
-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-
Dead. My Jean is gone, and I'm here waiting. It still hasn't sunk in. Part of me just keeps thinking about how she can't be dead. She was too damn stubborn, and she had so much left to do.
It hit everyone hard. Everyone loved her, she was that type of woman. Is. Is that type of woman. But they will make it. I can't. The centre of my universe just blew up in my face. I want to go back, I have to go back. But I'm afraid of what I'll see.
I've given up on sleep. All I do is stare at her empty side and cry. Scott Summers never cried. But I have a damn good reason now. So I've taken to prowling the mansion late at night, hoping to find some room where I can see something other then her memory. No luck yet.
But there will come a day I wish those memories were still fresh. I'll wake up one morning and realize I can't call to mind the exact angle she held her head at when she was listening. And eventually I'll do what anybody does when they lose a loved one. They paint over their image until it was perfect, a betrayal of what the person was. And I don't have that far to go with Jean.
This evening's first stop is the kitchen. This is where I talked to her for the first time.
-*-*-*-
Scott's heading for a soda, and notices the latest recruit sitting on the counter. She had arrived sometime the week before, and the other guys kept talking about how hot she was. He had avoided her for that reason. The last thing he needed was to fall in love with someone. Nobody was ever going to love a man who could kill if he took off his glasses.
But up close he could see the others had greatly underestimated her appearance. That flame red hair, and those amazing eyes. In all of 2.7 seconds, he was in love.
"Nice shades cutie," she says, popping a strawberry into her mouth. He doesn't find out until later – much later- that it took all of her courage to say it.
"They suit their purpose."
"Which is?"
He shrugs, and avoids her eyes. His imagined chance with her was gone.
"I open my eyes without these on and I shoot optics rays. It tends to make a mess."
"Cool. All I can do is move things. And I'm not very good at that."
"Well, here at the Xavier Institute For Freaks, you'll have plenty of opportunities to work on it. Assuming the general population doesn't kill us first."
"That is always a possibility, Cheerful. How long you been here?"
"My sentence started a few months ago."
"You sound pleased to be here."
Scott shrugs again. "It's good enough here. The Prof is great, but I'd rather just go back to Scott Summers, stud. Nobody from back home even thinks about writing. At least you look normal."
"Yeah, well, I'm not. None of us here, are "normal". Grow up and deal with what hand you've been dealt. I bet you could really make a difference in the area."
"Oh yeah?" he challenges.
"Yeah. You aren't the only mutant on this world. You could help others. But I'm sure a pretty boy like you doesn't care about something like that."
"What were you, captain of the cheerleaders?"
"All State soccer champs, if you must know. And if you don't shut your mouth, I'll show you a few good kicks." She clamps her mouth shut, aware that arguing is not the best way to deal with people. But God, who did he think he was?
He turns and stomps from the room.
-*-*-*-
She had tracked him down the next day and apologized for her "improper manners", and promptly asked him out for dinner. He had laughed and told her he had enough for a soda. She agreed, and their first date was born.
The living room was worse.
-*-*-*-
She's grinning at him, and he realizes that he still hasn't figured out the shade of her eyes.
"You know, I don't think I've ever had so much fun watching B horror movies. Remind me to keep you broke more often."
"Why do you think we're here in the first place?"
She throws a cushion at him, which he skillfully avoids.
"Nice aim," he laughs.
She reaches out, and the projectile makes an awkward turn, hitting Scott in the head.
"Watch it One Eye."
He grins, and holds his arms up in surrender. "You win. And you know what the winner gets?"
She leans in closer, her lips almost close enough to feel his breath. "What?"
He closes the hairline distance with a gentle kiss. "Whatever they want."
"Promise?"
"Cross my heart."
"You." She stops, realizing what she's saying. But it's the truth, and she knows it. "I love you. Have since the first time I met you, even if you did piss me off."
He gives her that heart stopping smile, and she brushes a strand of hair from his face. The face she loves.
"A promise is a promise."
-*-*-*-
It's the same in every room. A special moment shared between soul mates. He had no doubt they were that. The funny thing was, the memories changed with every day. Last night the kitchen had been their first kiss. Tomorrow it could be a million different things.
"Summers."
I turn quickly, and see a student. Amelia Black. I know her. Jean was her mentor, teacher and friend. Some days Jean would tell me about some great breakthrough she had with Amelia, and her eyes would light up in that irresistible way of hers.
"Amelia, hey. How are you?" I force the words out, painfully aware that she was one of the few in the mansion who had any clue how deep my pain went.
"Not good, but better then you are."
"Excuse me?" She had always seemed like a soft spoken girl, and respectful to her elders.
"You don't eat, you don't even bother going to classes, you haven't been seen by the student body in three days. All you do is sit in your damn room. You're lucky Jean isn't here to kick your ass."
"Shut up," I hiss through clenched teeth. What does she think she's doing?
"She warned me you'd get like this if anything ever happened to her. That's why she gave me this. Just in case," her voice drops to a mere whisper. "You have to make peace with her memory Scott. It'll kill you if you don't.
"Jean used to tell me how great you were with the kids that were still trying to deal with their powers. She was proud of you, and she loved you. By giving up your duties, it's like you're giving up on her. And you can't. I don't know how much longer the students will be able to keep up their façade, that it's just a simple tragedy. Jean helped build what this school is. She tended our scrapes, and she was a kind ear when anyone needed to talk. Now she's gone, and the only person that can make it better isn't."
"How do you expect me to make it better? Wave a magic wand?"
I realize too late she's crying. She wanted someone to be a guide through this, and I was the closest to Jean. The responsibilities have fallen on my shoulders, at least in the eyes of the girl in front of me.
"Just read this," she manages to get out, pushing an envelope into my hand.
Even in the dim light I recognize Jean's precise writing. I used to tease her how she would never be a genuine doctor until she let her hand get messy. I head for our – my - room.
The lights cast funny shadows on the walls, but I barely notice. I lay down on her side of the bed. It still smells like her shampoo. It reminds me of every time I ever held her, and I hate it. I breathe in deeply though, and open the envelope.
Dear Scott,
If you're reading this, I'm sorry. I'm sorry for having to cause you so much pain. I'm sorry for whatever stupid thing I did that got me killed. I'm not afraid of dying Scott, just of dying without your love. As long as you love me, I'll never really be gone. I promise, I'll be right beside you. Celebrating your victories, and guiding you in tough times, they way you always have for me. And I'll make sure you found happiness.
I don't like these nightmares. They scare me more then I've been able to tell you. But they're better because you're beside me. Why be scared of the boogeyman when I have you, right?
There are so many things I want to tell you, but I'll keep it brief. Every one of these words must hurt you, and I'm sorry for that too. But I have to let you know.
I love you. I love you with my whole heart and soul, and every other cliché there is. And it's my duty to make sure you don't wallow in self pity. Whatever happened, I know you did everything you could to stop it. Don't let guilt consume you. You still have other obligations, other people who rely on you. Don't let them down
Remember the Question? That one about life after death? I finally figured out my answer.
I do believe in Heaven, because I know I'll see you again. If I were to live with to a thousand, it would never be long enough to love you. So I'll need to see you again. And it may take time, but I promise I will.
I love you,
Jean
I fold the paper carefully, and put it back in the envelope. In a single moment it has become my most prized possession, and my last real lifeline to the only woman I will ever love. She thinks we'll meet again one day. I don't know anymore. But I do know that I will always have dreams.
I close my eyes, focusing on the lemon scent. And for the first time in three days, I sleep.