Somewhere in Connecticut, a miserable looking man tore the small sachet open and poured its contents into the lukewarm coffee before him. He stirred it methodically unable to look in to the eyes of his companion. He just kept staring at the chipped untouched mug before him. Though his eyes burned with unshed tears, she would never know this detail because she couldn't see those eyes though she had always longed to. They were always hidden just like there was something hidden, something guarded between them now. They knew they were on a downward spiral, petty jealousies were but a whisper away, and so…long intervals of quiet served them well. They had arrived here in silence from the mansion but the quiet weighed heavily now as two people, who most certainly loved each other, struggled to find the words to explain their actions and feelings to one another.
In stark contrast to the gloom in the corner, the waitresses jostled and laughed in the background as some regulars shared stories from the road. The TV in the corner chirped commercials no one heeded and in a booth in the corner, scotch-taped leatherette seats and a beaten old Formica table held captive two souls in desperate need of saving.
Jean sighed for the umpteenth time and finally pushed the dismay at both of them away long enough to whisper, 'We have got to say something to each other, Scott, we can't just sit here all day while everything crumbles around us.'
Scott bristled at her words then fought down the urge to get defensive, finally containing the sense of betrayal he knew he unjustifiably felt, he said, 'You're right… I'm…sorry…'
'I'm sorry too…'
'That doesn't make any of this any easier, does it?' He finally looked up and saw her eyes heavy with tears that didn't fall.
Jean moved her hand across the table to lay it on Scott's. 'No it doesn't but I don't know what to do now. Do we fight for us? Do we take a break and think things through?' Scott tensed and pulled his hand away as Jean just looked at where his hand had been. It was all too symbolic for her.
'Do you love her?' he asked hesitantly. Jean looked straight at him and couldn't answer.
'Do you love her?' his voice raised enough to attract attention. Jean shifted and withdrew her hand from the table before levelling her gaze at her husband.
'Love? I clearly know very little about love. I thought we were in love…but to answer your question…I don't…no I do…feel…a connection to her...I feel alive with her. I'm so sorry Scott.'
Those words pierced Scott Summers' heart like a knife. The questions about their love brimmed to the tip of his tongue but he bit them back, he didn't want resentment between them. He also didn't want her to say things she could never take back. He looked out the window at the trucks pulling away while Jean just looked at him wishing not for the last time that she could see his eyes.
'I think we should take some time apart, Jean. I think if I went away for a while, well…we could both figure out what we want…' he hung his head again and closed his eyes. Jean looked up at the ceiling for the answers, for the right words to say, but all she saw were grease stains and the feeling of hopelessness sunk into her bones. After some time and a Herculean effort to get up, she stood at the table and threw some bills down.
'I'm going back to the mansion. Stay in contact with the Professor and let me know when you're ready to talk…and take care Scott…we have so much to talk about, but…now isn't the time.' She turned then and to his horror walked out of the diner like a mirage fading into the distance without a glance behind her. Scott stared after her, watching her get into her car - his world shattering around him.
Jean's thoughts were all jumbled up and the heartache was slicing her every which way. I've got to get back, was all she could think to herself. She knew she had nearly killed Emma that night and she wanted to address that now. Her issues with Scott would go on the back burner when she could think straight. She thought she'd feel guiltier, dirtier but as she had walked away all she felt was confusion and trepidation. For Emma, not for Scott. It startled her. She had to tamp down the Phoenix inside that begged for release. Emma made her feel too much. Perhaps it would be best to avoid her for the moment. Scott had never elicited so visceral a reaction from her and that was now heartbreaking in her eyes. And though her logical part said stay away from the White Queen, her very human heart yearned for nothing more than to see her again. To touch her mind in a gentle way not the forcible assault she had partaken of at the boat house. She felt she was so close to merging with another human being. Like a moth to a flame she was now. She could only hope she hadn't scared Emma off completely. Threatening to kill her might not have been the best option after all she smiled ruefully. She hadn't forgiven Emma her transgression with Scott but she saw that that person was not the woman who bared her soul the night before. That heavenly creature was pulling her back now. She also knew Emma's shields would come back up and her walls would be built higher if she didn't speak to her soon. She was a fragile beast in that diamond shell. This made Jean stop. Then her face dropped, keys fired the ignition to life and she put the pedal to the floor and raced towards her destiny.
It was with these thoughts that Jean sped back along the highway to her destination. The professor would obviously want an update but it wasn't as if Scott hadn't taken a sabbatical before and she knew the X-Men would carry on as usual. Storm would question her and that was something she had to get her head around. What could she say? All these thoughts barrelled from her mind when several hours later she saw the mansion looming before her. She sensed something wasn't quite right and a sense of impending dread filled her. Her nerves rattled, her blood simmered, her eyes filling with amber at the edges of her irises. She fought the Phoenix back. She needed the Professor; she had to get her mind under control first. Emma would be her undoing, Emma would be her resurrection. Emma would be everything but Emma wasn't here. She knew that now pulling through the gates. The White Queen had left the building, but Jean Grey was back and meant business.
The car screeched to a halt on the gravel as Xavier watched from his office window. His wild child, so cleverly contained had returned and he dreaded the possibilities, the paths open to her and wished somehow that his old friend were there to support him. That somehow Erik would know what to do. The tight wrappings around her mind were loosening and the single most powerful being on any planet was walking towards his office with questions he didn't want to answer.
A/N
Thank you reviewers for dragging me back to the table. I live in this world in my day dreams plotting out the story, so thank you for encouraging me. Back to Emma next.
