Scott's Interlude - Sun-Dwelling Creature
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Author's Note: The interludes come between every regular chapter. They're
first-person, present tense. Every main character will have one.
A/N2: Sorry, bit of an angst fest here. Not so light-hearted as the last
chapter. I'll be back to my old sarcastic third-person self next chapter.
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Scott's Fundamental Law of Life - "Number one rule - Worship Jean."
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Jean's looking out the window, brow furrowed a little bit. It's obvious she hates November. Hell, it's not my favorite month either. No sun, just grey skies, but not enough to snow. The kids all stay inside and drive the adults up the wall.
Who can blame her? She's a sun-dwelling creature, and this whole damn season's draining her dry. She thrives off of summer gold and spring greens and pinks. Grey just doesn't work for her, despite her last name.
Me, on the other hand, if it were not for her bad mood I'd like it. She may like the sunlight, but I can never see it anyway. Damn sunglasses. Everything's red, even after all this time. Frankly, I don't care if the sky's blue or maroon.
Jean, though. She gets restless around this time. And she's so distant nowadays. Something's up, and she's not telling me.
"Scotty, honey?" she asks, just to make sure I'm listening.
Scotty honey yourself, dear.
Instead of snapping at her (God, her mood's getting to me too), I just look at her with the same interest that Bobby shows Lorna (or rather, her rack and ass). Not as hungrily as he does it though, and I make sure I'm looking at her face.
"What's going on in your life?"
Have we fallen so far apart that we have to ask this? Why doesn't she just reach into the back of my head like she used to?
Oh, right. Respective distance. Room to breathe.
"Not much. Watch the kids, sort out fights, scrape gum off the bottom of desks. You?" I try to stay nonchalant. Really, I mean: What the hell have you been doing and why won't you tell me?
My subconscious is screaming at me. It's asking why the hell shed want that respective distance in the first place.
"Same here. Damn kids keep sticking their gum under the tables. It's disgusting." Even while wrinkling her nose, she's still gorgeous. Gorgeous, and still looking out the window.
Of course she wouldn't look at me. How could a perfect, sun-dwelling creature like her ever love someone who hides behind their visor and their glasses? I've been hiding so long it's second nature, and for all her efforts, she can never drag me out of the shadows.
I was foolish to think this love would last. I've based my life around her, and she keeps drifting off again. I was lucky to marry her. Someday, while I'm gone, she'll drift out to sea again, and I won't be there to reel her in. Logan or Hank or someone else will catch her. I guess keeping her is just too much trouble. A whole helluva lot more trouble than I bargained for.
Love isn't enough. A pretty girl like her, she's got suitors everywhere and she can pick and choose.
She slinks onto the bed next to me. I can touch her, but she's so far gone. Her mind is elsewhere. Of course, for a telepath, that's easy. "You don't think it'll snow, will it?"
What the hell. If she doesn't last, I may as well enjoy myself. "Ask 'Roro if she'll do anything."
"Mmm-hmm." She says softly, as if she's half-asleep. I get the feeling she's talking to someone else. She gets groggy when telepathically connecting with someone for a long time. I wonder who she's talking to.
"Jean?" She's curling up next to me, pulling the sheet towards her.
"Mmm-hmm?" It's these little times, when she yanks the covers away to leave my bare legs shivering, that I love her the most.
"God, Jean, I'm in my boxers and the door's open." She doesn't respond. Rubbing my hands to my thighs for heat, I move to the door and close it. Not a great time for Drake to come by and see that I have dinosaur undies on.
On the bed lies my little sun-dwelling creature, mine for as long as I can keep her. I go back over to her, play with her hair. Red like fire, red like ruby-quartz, red like the sunset. Red, the only color I can see. Red.
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.
Scott's Fundamental Law of Life - "Number one rule - Worship Jean."
.
.
Jean's looking out the window, brow furrowed a little bit. It's obvious she hates November. Hell, it's not my favorite month either. No sun, just grey skies, but not enough to snow. The kids all stay inside and drive the adults up the wall.
Who can blame her? She's a sun-dwelling creature, and this whole damn season's draining her dry. She thrives off of summer gold and spring greens and pinks. Grey just doesn't work for her, despite her last name.
Me, on the other hand, if it were not for her bad mood I'd like it. She may like the sunlight, but I can never see it anyway. Damn sunglasses. Everything's red, even after all this time. Frankly, I don't care if the sky's blue or maroon.
Jean, though. She gets restless around this time. And she's so distant nowadays. Something's up, and she's not telling me.
"Scotty, honey?" she asks, just to make sure I'm listening.
Scotty honey yourself, dear.
Instead of snapping at her (God, her mood's getting to me too), I just look at her with the same interest that Bobby shows Lorna (or rather, her rack and ass). Not as hungrily as he does it though, and I make sure I'm looking at her face.
"What's going on in your life?"
Have we fallen so far apart that we have to ask this? Why doesn't she just reach into the back of my head like she used to?
Oh, right. Respective distance. Room to breathe.
"Not much. Watch the kids, sort out fights, scrape gum off the bottom of desks. You?" I try to stay nonchalant. Really, I mean: What the hell have you been doing and why won't you tell me?
My subconscious is screaming at me. It's asking why the hell shed want that respective distance in the first place.
"Same here. Damn kids keep sticking their gum under the tables. It's disgusting." Even while wrinkling her nose, she's still gorgeous. Gorgeous, and still looking out the window.
Of course she wouldn't look at me. How could a perfect, sun-dwelling creature like her ever love someone who hides behind their visor and their glasses? I've been hiding so long it's second nature, and for all her efforts, she can never drag me out of the shadows.
I was foolish to think this love would last. I've based my life around her, and she keeps drifting off again. I was lucky to marry her. Someday, while I'm gone, she'll drift out to sea again, and I won't be there to reel her in. Logan or Hank or someone else will catch her. I guess keeping her is just too much trouble. A whole helluva lot more trouble than I bargained for.
Love isn't enough. A pretty girl like her, she's got suitors everywhere and she can pick and choose.
She slinks onto the bed next to me. I can touch her, but she's so far gone. Her mind is elsewhere. Of course, for a telepath, that's easy. "You don't think it'll snow, will it?"
What the hell. If she doesn't last, I may as well enjoy myself. "Ask 'Roro if she'll do anything."
"Mmm-hmm." She says softly, as if she's half-asleep. I get the feeling she's talking to someone else. She gets groggy when telepathically connecting with someone for a long time. I wonder who she's talking to.
"Jean?" She's curling up next to me, pulling the sheet towards her.
"Mmm-hmm?" It's these little times, when she yanks the covers away to leave my bare legs shivering, that I love her the most.
"God, Jean, I'm in my boxers and the door's open." She doesn't respond. Rubbing my hands to my thighs for heat, I move to the door and close it. Not a great time for Drake to come by and see that I have dinosaur undies on.
On the bed lies my little sun-dwelling creature, mine for as long as I can keep her. I go back over to her, play with her hair. Red like fire, red like ruby-quartz, red like the sunset. Red, the only color I can see. Red.