Summary: A single act brings hurt and grief

Disclaimer: I don't own X-Men

Rating: T

BETRAYAL

Chapter 4

Westchester, New York: Present Time

…Two days later…

The tension within the deluxe greenhouse was as thick as mist covering a mountaintop. Jean's heart quickened. Sweat beaded her forehead and her throat inexplicably dry. She gawked at Ororo, her haunting blue eyes slightly red, foretelling the agony and suffering she'd caused. The tears shed. But it was nothing compared to the hatred marring her lovely face. Her head drooping, Jean swallowed the lump in her throat, angling her body, preparing to leave.

"You don't have to leave on the count of me." Jean paused, stunned. Ororo's voice came so unexpectedly, for a moment, she thought it was her mind playing tricks on her. She glanced back at the dark skinned mutant warily. Ororo had her back to her. Thankfully, the garden shears that had formally been in her hand were on the table, and she was busy pouring water onto a Bonsai tree.

"I didn't want to disturb you," said Jean.

Ororo let out a harsh snort. "Disturb," she collected the shears in her hand and snipped the tiny green leaves. "It's a little late for that." She turned and flashed the school doctor a look. "True, I did come out here for some solace." She set the tree down, turned, and leaned against the work station. "But since you're here…we can talk."

Jean's eyes never left the large shears. Her breath caught in her throat as she watched Ororo's fingers clench and flex on the handle. Little tremors swam up her spine at what she sensed and it was daunting. She never had any reason to be nervous in Ororo's presence. The pair were close, like two peas in a pod, or use to be. She closed her eyes, letting out a quivering puff of air.

How could she have messed up so badly?

All she wanted to do was make Scott jealous. She never truly meant to hurt Ororo.

"So I guess June 15th is cancelled."

"June 15th?" asked Jean.

"The wedding," Ororo pointed out.

Jean frowned, folding her arms about her chest, rubbing her hands up and down to get warm. "It's…not…officially…postponed actually." Her pupils grew round when she heard Ororo laughing.

"Are you kidding?" she cried. "You expect Scott to walk down the aisle with you now after you banged Logan."

"I knew you would bring that up," she sighed.

Ororo's face shadowed, eyes glowing. "What did you want to talk about?" She looked to her right, the clear skies and bright sunshine faded, great grey clouds swept in from the west. Large elm trees started to sway as the wind stirred the limbs and branches. "Did you want to about the weather?"

"Ororo," Jean choked back tears. "Please…I-I…never…"

"I guess Scott wasn't enough for you was he!" Ororo attacked without feeling, gripping the shears. "You eventually had to go and seek out Logan didn't you?"

Jean straightened, narrowing her eyes. "What do you mean?"

"What do I mean?" Ororo yelled. "I mean you have a sexual appetite that is not only veracious, it's insatiable. Even when we were younger you were flirtatious to the point of brazen. Emma once made a comment about you being just as bad as she…"

"Oh don't you dare bring Emma Frost into this!" Jean screamed.

"Why not? There's some truth in what she said. I didn't want to believe it then. I thought she was just jealous of you, but now I see she was right."

"Ororo what happened between me and Logan…"

"I don't want to hear it!"

A gush of wind surged sending a dead tree branch shattering through a window. Intense winds raged with ferocity, knocking over plants, tables, shaking the feeble structure. Jean hunched over using her telekinesis to protect herself from the bits of glass flying all throughout the greenhouse. She strived to conceal herself inside a bubble, but was caught unawares by the sudden force of wind. Stirring up the atmosphere, Ororo cause a huge burst of wind to send Jean flying out the greenhouse. Trees toppled and leaves were stripped off limbs under the mighty whirlwind over taking the mansion grounds.

Ethereal and all powerful, Ororo levitated out the greenhouse just seconds before the metal structure collapsed. Her electric white eyes glared down at her former best friend with intense hatred. The skies turned black. Thunderclouds swelled forcing the wonderful warm weather to dip to a chilling degree. The outside world grew chaotic. Jean forced herself to stand despite astronomical winds pressing her to the ground.

Hurricane force winds carried numerous benches and potted plants into the air, under Ororo's guidance went sailing towards Jean. She managed to block the constant barrage of heavy objects, but with the weather so unstable, some when flying through the mansion windows.

"Ororo, please," she pleaded, shivering, her hand stretched out in front of her. "Stop!"

"I can't believe the Professor always held you with such high esteem!" Ororo barked, walking slowing, her white hair swirling above her head. Thunder clapped in the distance and Jean jerked her head heavenward. She saw lightning crack in the foreboding sky then turned to Ororo. Just seconds before a powerful surge of electricity connected with the earth, striking Jean, Ororo passed into a swoon. Sunshine pierced the darkened sky, the clouds departed, and the world stilled.

Astounded, Jean spun around looking about the grounds. Regardless of the carnage, the damages etched in the mansion, it seemed as if nothing had transpired. She looked down to see Ororo sprawled on the grass, her white fanning out like angel wings. She rushed to her side and dropped to her knees.

Jean. The Professor's voice came forth in her mind. She's alright. I've simply interfered and have sent Hank. He'll take Ororo to her room to rest. But I'd like to talk to you as soon as you've pulled yourself together.

She looked behind her once she heard the back door scrape open, footsteps filing across broken chips of glass. "Here," Beast said gently, lifting Ororo in his arms. "I'll take her. You go on and wash up."

Letting out a haggard sigh, Jean rose, brushed her skirt, and withdrew to the mansion. To her dismay, students were lined outside, looking at her, some with a definite question in their eyes while other held answers. With a quiet dignity Jean moved through the crowd of cautious students, ignored the laughs, few bouts of whispers as she headed inside. As if the knife had sunk deeper, she encountered Rogue on the staircase. The young girl's eyes traveled over her disheveled state before prancing down the remainder of the steps, turning east on the main foyer. She knew exactly where she was heading, to the lower levels to attend to her fiancé.

Enraged, Jean gripped the railing, bearing her nails deep into the wood. A hunger to strangle Rogue with her bare hands taunted. But she remembered the Professor was anticipating her presence and unwillingly dragged her aching body up the stairs. She showered and dressed in a white Cashmere sweater, wool black skirt, and zipped up her boots. Running the brush through her hair, she took a deep breath and left the bedroom.

Making her way to the Professor's office, there was no doubt in her mind what he wanted to speak to her about. The whole school was aware of how she seduced Logan into bed. If they had a school newspaper it would make the front page. It wasn't her fault. Scott was becoming too involved with Rogue. So, she made a wrong choice in sleeping with Logan, but she also knew of how much Scott hated the man. She just wanted him to burn a teensy bit. She turned right and paused in front of large double doors. Inhaling, she knocked.

"Yes, come in Jean," boomed a voice with a heavy English accent behind to sturdy oak.

She turned the handle, strolling into the study. It was a spacious high ceiling chamber with a large, brass chandelier hanging down half way. Mahogany paneled the walls, light curtains adorned windows to breathe light into the dark room. An exquisite array of paintings and figurines were set all about. A tan sofa took most of the floor space and antique coffee table and Persian rug sat on the floor. There was a book shelf off to the right and miniature replica of the globe on a stand.

"Sit down Jean," Xavier said, wheeling towards his first student. His eyes were set, grim lines made his face drawn and haggard.

She sank into the sofa, crossing her legs. "Is everything alright Charles? You look tired." She tried to feign the obvious, avoid the situation, yet it was difficult to distract a powerful mind like the Professors'.

He laughed. "No," he moved closer the coffee table and poured some tea. "Just…frustrated…it's been an…interesting week."

Jean shifted uncomfortably; the idea of the Professor being aware of her foul conduct was rather disheartening. She was always proud of the fact she'd been his prized student. Xavier lifted his head a notch and noted her unease. He flashed a weak smile.

"I'm not going to bring up anything about the last few days," he said. "I just want everything to calm down. Hopefully, we can clear the air, patch tender wounds. If not, I'm going to disband the X-Men."

Jean shot ram rod straight, mortified. "What?"

"Logan is gone. Scott is slowly recovering from his injuries and Storm is distraught." The Professor fixed his eyes on Jean. He tried to shield the disappointment brimming in his eyes, but his heart was weakened by a single act he himself could have prevented. Nevertheless, his X-Men were grown adults with minds of their own; minds he wouldn't tamper with. Jean had to learn her behavior, her actions, had consequences.

"Professor," Jean cried. "Now is not the time to break up the X-Men. Anti-mutant terrorists lurk and Magneto is on the loose. We cannot afford to show a weak front."

Xavier shook his head. "I have no choice Jean. Neither of you can't stand one another at the moment. I'm sure you all end up killing each other rather than engage you're enemies." He closed his eyes in light what Ororo nearly did an hour earlier. She committed on destroying Jean.

"But what if Magneto finds out the X-Men are no more and chooses to strike," she said. "He sees us as a thorn in his side in his quest for world domination. He would take this chance to attack and literally destroy us."

"Don't you worry about Erik." He wheeled back and positioned himself close to a painting, taking in the details of Monet's masterpiece of the Ballerina Girl. A brilliant piece of work and the duplicate copy had cost him a hefty sum. "His forces have dwindled there's just Mystique now. He no longer has the services of Toad and Sabertooth."

"True," she unfolded her legs and moved on the soft cushion. "But you know how cunning that blue skinned vixen is. She's already entwined herself in the role of Senator Kelly."

The lines in the Professor's forehead deepened. "I know, but she's given mutants an edge in this threat against the Mutant Registration Act. Without their strongest supporter, the senate has lost a huge frontrunner to have every mutant in the United State documented and profiled."

A brief silence fell on the room. Jean rose and went to her mentor. "I know I'm the cause of this Professor and I'm sorry. I was only…" A knock came at the door.

"Yes, come," said Xavier.

Rogue entered the study. She was dressed in her hooded trench coat; a grey scarf was wrapped around her throat. She looked through Jean, and acknowledged the Professor. "We're all packed and ready to go Professor."

"Go," Jean said in surprise.

Rogue ignored her. "I want to thank you for allowing me to go along. I needed this."

The Professor set his chair into motion, halting in front of the young girl. "It was not a problem. Scott needs the best care in the world and I know Dr. MacTaggert will give that to him."

Alarmed, Jean tipped her head to right, stunned by what she overhearing. Scott was leaving? Rogue was going with him…to Scotland!

"It's for the best," Rogue sighed. "I think we need a little breather." She cut her eyes at the red head before laying them on the Professor. "Well, the cab is waiting, Scott is tucked away, and I'll call you once we've reach the airport."

"Call me when you land," he said.

"Okay." The platinum haired teenager leaned down and planted a kiss on his bald head. Smiling, Xavier waved good bye.

He felt Jean's protestation and questions fueling his brain. He whirled in the chair to see her standing arms folded, looking terribly vexed.

"You're sending him to Scotland," she cried.

"It's best for everyone Jean," Xavier said. "And Scott is not going to Scotland he's going to Hawaii. Moira is currently operating there for the moment. Her headquarters on Muir Island came under attack several weeks ago by avid fanatics. She and her colleagues had to flee. I telephoned her a few days ago and she says she happy to see to Scott's care. I've left certain details out."

She narrowed her eyes. "When were you going to tell me? How are Scott and I supposed to reconcile?"

Xavier leaned back in his chair, disturbed by Jean's selfishness. "I really don't have to tell you anything."

With that, he turned not before telling her that she was on probation, and close to be removed from her position. He was her mentor but he still had a school to run. Some of these students still had homes to return to and he didn't want them retelling their parents the grisly details of the last three weeks. He didn't want parents to yank their children out of the school because their teacher had no self-control.