Once again, THANK YOU to my faithful reviewers! I love you all dearly! : ) And a special THANKS to Julie for letting me pick her brain...repeatedly.
Chapter 17
It was the Monday before Sara's wedding, and after school Scott had taken Jean to her final dress fitting. Jean was in a foul mood as they returned to the Institute, dreading her role of maid of honor.
"I don't know why you wouldn't let me see it," Scott said, still confused over Jean's adamancy that he not see the dress. "I'll see it at the wedding, after all."
Jean glared at him. "Yeah, you and everyone else. My sister's evil, and I will make her pay for the humiliation I'll suffer on Saturday."
Scott chuckled. "Jean, you could wear a burlap sack and still look great."
"Trust me, I'd prefer a burlap sack. I have to wear a freakin' corset under that damn dress, Scott!" she whined and pushed open the Institute's front door.
"Jean! I've been, like, dying for you to get home!" Kitty squealed as soon as she saw them.
"Why?" she asked, brow furrowed.
"You got some, like, really important looking mail," Kitty informed her with a grin, holding out a large white envelope. The Columbia University logo was emblazoned in the top left corner.
"Oh, thanks, Kitty," Jean said, snatching the envelope from the other girl's hand and hurriedly stuffing it in her book bag. She failed to hide it away before Scott caught sight of it.
"Columbia?" Scott asked, cocking an eyebrow at Jean.
Kitty stared at her in disbelief. "Aren't you going to, like, open it?"
Jean shrugged. "It's probably just junk mail."
"Jean! You can't be serious!" Kitty exclaimed, eyes wide.
"I'll see you at dinner, Kitty," Jean said casually as she and Scott headed for the stairs, leaving the young girl staring after them, her mouth open in shock.
Jean was silent as they climbed to the second floor, but could feel Scott's eyes on her. He followed her into her room, closing the door and leaning against it with his arms crossed over his chest.
"You gonna open the letter?" he asked.
"No."
"Jean," he began in a warning tone.
"What?" she demanded, staring steadily at him, her arms mirroring Scott's pose.
"Let me see it."
"No."
"Goddammit, Jean," Scott grumbled and started moving towards her bag.
"Don't even think about it," she warned him, using her telekinesis to float the bag to her waiting hand.
"Cut it out," he ordered, his temper fraying. "Open the letter."
"No! I told you, it's nothing – just junk mail. It's none of your business, anyway," she snapped, letting her defensiveness turn to anger.
Scott looked as if she'd slapped him. "As my girlfriend, I thought maybe your college stuff was my business." He stared at her, shaking his head slowly. "Obviously I was mistaken – about a lot of things – because you're actually looking me in the eye and lying. I can't believe this," he muttered angrily before turning on his heel and storming out of Jean's room.
Jean flinched, knowing that Scott prized honesty above almost anything else. "Shit," she muttered to herself after he slammed the door shut behind him. "Shit shit shit!" With the final expletive, her TK inadvertently flung her book bag across the room and slammed it into her dresser, knocking over knick-knacks and spilling the bag's contents onto the floor. Fighting back tears of shame and anger, she stared at the offending envelope now lying on her carpet.
You're an idiot, Jean, she scolded herself. And you might have just completely blown it with Scott, she added sadly.
Jean skipped dinner that night, unable to face Scott after their fight. Which was why, at just after midnight, she was sitting in the kitchen eating ice cream straight from the carton. She was too absorbed in her own thoughts to hear the footsteps approaching until the door started to swing open. Glancing up quickly and catching a glimpse of Scott, Jean used her TK to push the door shut, keeping him out. She didn't think she was ready to talk to him quite yet.
"Jean, let me in," he called quietly through the door, pushing against it again, and meeting the same resistance. He sighed loud enough for her to hear. "Come on, Jean, the kitchen's communal property – you can't keep people out."
It was a weak argument, and they both knew it; but Jean released her hold on the door and Scott pushed his way into the room. He took in the picture Jean presented in her fuzzy slippers and oversized robe, curled up in the kitchen's window seat with a liter of Oreo ice cream. She was staring out at the softly falling snow, nibbling the ice cream off her spoon, and his anger dissipated significantly. After opening a drawer and taking out a spoon of his own, he tentatively traversed the kitchen to stand next to her.
"Is this seat taken?" he asked, motioning to the other half of the padded bench. Jean didn't look at him, but shook her head.
Well, at least she didn't hurl the ice cream carton at my head, he mused to himself.
"Don't think I didn't consider it," she muttered. He raised an eyebrow at her, mild disapproval on his face, and she looked contrite.
"Sorry, I've just been particularly tuned in to you lately," she apologized. "And you really are a loud thinker."
"I don't focus my mental shields around you as much as I should," Scott told her. He dug his spoon into the ice cream, stuffing a large spoonful in his mouth. They sat in silence for a long time.
"Why didn't you tell me you applied to Columbia?" he finally asked.
"Because I knew you'd freak out, so I didn't think it was worth mentioning," she relented. "I didn't think I'd get in, let alone be offered early admission."
Scott chuffed out a laugh. "Jean, you got a 1560 on your SATs. You could pretty much go to any college you wanted."
Jean said nothing and continued to stare out the window.
"So, why Columbia? It's probably the only school we discussed that I won't be able to get into," he trailed off slowly, as that sank in. "Is that it? You want to go to Columbia because you know I won't be going there?"
"No!" Jean said quickly, turning to look at him for the first time, revealing dried tears on her cheeks. "Oh, Scott, of course not!" She was horrified that he would think such a thing.
"Why, then?"
She sighed and looked back out the window. "I've been thinking more and more about what I want to do with my life. As much as I love being part of the X-men, I need to do more – I need to be more."
"I don't understand. I thought Professor X's dream and the team were important to you," he said, unable to keep the accusation out of his voice.
"They are, Scott, you know that. That's why I've been thinking about what I can contribute in addition to being part of the team." Scott waited for her to continue. "I want to know why we exist – why mutants exist. I want to study genetics and find out how and why mutations occur. I want to be able to prove to the world that we're not freaks at all, that we're a natural evolutionary step. I want to help mutants and humans understand each other."
"But can't you study biology anywhere?"
"Yes," she admitted, nodding slowly. "But Columbia has such incredible facilities, and such an exceptional reputation, and the medical school is right there if I decide to go that route. Add that to the fact that Columbia's within commuting distance from the Institute and it's perfect."
"It's almost an hour and a half away, Jean, that's hardly commuting distance," he said sadly.
"I'd be willing to commute if we were here together," she told him, reaching out to grasp his hand. Her fingers were cold from holding the ice cream container. "Scott, I'm sorry about earlier, I really am. I love you, you know that, right?"
He looked at her steadily, the faint glow from the snow reflecting through the window and off his glasses, making it impossible for Jean to search out his eyes. Finally he nodded. "Well, I suppose I could go somewhere close by – Manhattanville College has a pretty good Mathematics program."
Smiling, Jean felt her eyes well up with tears of relief. "They also offer a degree in Education – you could teach here after graduation," she suggested, knowing that it was an idea he'd been toying with for a while.
A single tear escaped and dropped onto Jean's cheek. Scott reached out and cupped her face, brushing the tear away with his thumb. "What's wrong?" he asked.
Jean shook her head and smiled at him. "As long as we're still ok, nothing's wrong," she said softly.
"We're still ok," he reassured her, leaning down to capture her lips. They tasted ice cream on each other and started giggling. They rested their foreheads together, as they had the night of their first date, after their first kiss.
"I'm sorry," Scott told her. "I'm sorry I acted like such a jerk."
"I'm sorry I was such a bitch," she replied, quirking her lips. "We're quite a pair, aren't we?"
"Yes, we are," he agreed, smiling. "As a matter of fact, I think we're the perfect pair."
"Hmmmm. I couldn't agree more," she said, kissing him again.
"We need sleep, though." Sliding off the bench, Scott took the ice cream carton from Jean's hands and returned it to the freezer. He then took her hand and led her up the stairs.
"Do you think the Professor will let us move in together once we start college?" Scott asked with a lopsided grin as they stood outside Jean's door.
"We'll just have to see, won't we?" Jean replied impishly. "G'night."
Their kiss was light and sweet, apologetic and full of promise. "Love you," Scott murmured before letting her go.
"Love you. Now go to sleep." With that, Jean shooed him towards his own room. As he reached his door, he turned and saw that she was still watching him from her doorway.
*What?* he sent.
*Would you really want to move in together?* she sent back.
*Absolutely. Would you?*
Jean thought about that for a second before answering. *We're jumping ahead a step or two, but yeah, I think I would. Sweet dreams.*
And with thoughts of permanently sharing a room with Jean running through his mind, Scott was confident his dreams would, indeed, be sweet.
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