A/N: Sorry for the long delay, but you must know by now that I never leave a story unfinished. Also, I'll be rerating this fic for the next chapters. Some new ideas came up, and I must follow the muse and adequate the ratings.

For better understanding this fic, I suggest you read 'The Adventures of Cyclops and Phoenix,' in case you haven't read it yet.

I'm a sucker for reviews, so… do your part and I'll do mine. Enjoy, and thanks for reading!

Chapter 2.

"Jean, get down before the neighbors see that firebird manifestation."

"I don't care about the neighbors, Scott."

"Well, you should. We came to Alaska to find some peace, not to find more problems."

"I'm only trying to prove to you that I'm in control. I'm sick of holding back my powers because you feel insecure about them."

"I don't feel insecure, damnit! I just…"

"It's not going to be like the last time, Scott. Trust me."

Spending the night on the living room couch hadn't been Scott's brightest idea, and now his back was paying the price. But what other option did he have after Jean had decided to take the kid to the bedroom with her?

He couldn't go crash in his old room in the mansion, not when his supposed son from the future was in this timeline and sleeping in the boathouse near Jean. Cyclops knew how cunning their enemies could be, and he had been tricked too many times in his life by clones of the people he loved – Cable's included.

Clone or not, the shock of finding five-year-old Nathan Christopher in the kitchen was still fresh in his mind. His first instinct had been to deny what his eyes were seeing, and the idea that his wife could be trying to punish him with a mental image of his son did cross his mind. Jean wasn't a saint; she could be cruel sometimes – like when she had forced Emma to telepathically relive the worst moments of her life after founding out about the affair a few days ago. Still, when Scott gave it a second thought, he knew Jean wouldn't dare to use Nate against him. The boy was too sacred to both of them.

But they had left Nathan two thousand years in the future at the age of eleven… It didn't make any sense for his younger version to be here now.

Cyclops and Phoenix's mission while in the future had been to raise their son to become Cable. Hence, they had always been extremely careful regarding the child's whereabouts, keeping him close either visually or telepathically, all the time. Scott couldn't recall a time when five-year-old Nate had gone missing; therefore, regardless of what Jean believed, that boy couldn't be their son – he would have to remember losing Nathan in the future at some point for him to be in this timeline now.

That considered, the rational side of Cyclops concluded that the child couldn't be Nathan Christopher Dayspring. Nevertheless, hearing his inquisitive voice and feeling his tiny arms grasping his legs had made Scott ignore logic for a moment and wish that the boy were his son, badly. Last night's unexpected encounter in the kitchen had taken him to a happier time – before Apocalypse, and before his whole world had turned upside down. The experience had awoken a long-forgotten feeling inside of him – unconditional love, it was called.

Maybe the boy was Nate… he surely looked like him, and Jean seemed pretty convinced that he was the son they had abandoned in the future. And even if his wife and him weren't on the best of terms right now, she was one of the mightiest telepaths in the world – he should trust her judgement. Plus, with the Phoenix Force always hovering around her, it was pretty unlikely that she could be fooled by a child. Still, and just in case, he had checked on them at least three or four times in the last six hours. But Jean and Nathan had slept soundlessly throughout the night, cuddling each other – not a sight he had expected to ever see again.

Stretching his back, Scott realized he wouldn't get much sleep anyway and decided to get up. He started the coffee maker, like he had done a thousand mornings before, then picked up his phone and dialed Cable's number. If anyone would know what the hell was happening, it would be grown-up Nate.

But of course, Cable didn't pick up. In fact, the call went straight to voicemail. Frustrated and distracted, Cyclops didn't hear when Jean entered the kitchen.

"Still here?"

He turned around to face her, cussing in silence when he noticed that she was wearing the navy baby doll he had given her three years before for their anniversary. Her hair was down, cascading over her shoulders like a luxurious red mess. Dear God, why did celibacy have to be so hard?

Scott cleaned his throat. "Yes. I didn't want to leave you alone."

Jean strode barefoot towards the coffee maker without sparing him a second glance. "You didn't have to. That boy is Nate," she said as she poured herself a cup.

Cyclops didn't seem convinced. "Look, Jean, you can't be a hundred percent sure. I know he looks like Nate, but he could be a clone fed with false memories – it wouldn't be the first time. He could've been sent by Apocalypse-"

"Or he could be our son," the woman replied, leaning her back against the countertop to face Scott. "I've read his mind. He truly believes to be Nathan Dayspring, adoptive son of Slym and Redd Dayspring. The last thing he remembers before showing up in this kitchen is us putting him to bed in Crestcoast, and you promising to teach him how to fish on the next morning. I don't think our enemies could be that detail oriented."

A warm feeling crept inside Cyclops' chest as he contemplated the information. No, their enemies couldn't have known about the fishing trip; only he and Nate had been there. But if that child was really his son, how had he gotten here?

"Have you sensed any other presence since last night?" he asked Jean.

"No. Not friend, not foe. Only Nate."

Scott scratched the stubble on his chin as he pondered their next move. "Okay. Try to reach Cable telepathically; he should remember if this ever happened to him."

"Already tried, but I couldn't find him," the redhead answered.

"Damn," Cyclops cursed, having ran out of ideas. He was prepared to handle a trap but had no clue of what to do with the real deal. "I… I-I don't know what to make out of this. If that boy really is Nate…"

"He is," his wife insisted.

"Then why is he here? How did he get here? And more important, what happens to the world if he never returns to the future… if he never grows up in that timeline to become Cable?"

Jean held her cup with telekinesis and crossed her arms against her chest, staring hard at her husband's face. "Shouldn't you be worrying about providing him with a healthier childhood? He's only five, Scott! He's not a warrior yet."

That made Cyclops raise his brows. "But we've spent ten years in the future raising Nathan and making sure he would be ready to fight Apocalypse when the time came."

"We have. And yet, Cable could never defeat him. You did, when you merged with that monster to save Nate Grey. Your sacrifice defeated Apocalypse," Jean stated, her voice calmer and more melancholic than she had intended.

'And where did that get us?' Scott thought bitterly. He saw his wife looking down and realized she had read his mind. Since his merging with Nur, they no longer shared a psychic rapport, so she must have deliberately looked into his head. He didn't like it, but chose to ignore it for the moment – there were more pressing matters to discuss. "So, what now? We just keep lying to him, pretending to be Slym and Redd until we figure what's going on?"

The redhead sighed. "Honestly? I don't know. Lying is never a good idea, and Nate's too smart for his age – he'll eventually find out he's in the past. I'm sure he'll notice the difference in the landscape as soon as he steps outside, not to mention that everyone here speaks 'Old Englishe'. Besides, he's already suspicious of our looks."

"Of course. When the Askani took us to the future, they transferred our minds to different bodies. As similar as they were to the originals, there were still major differences. I could control my optic blasts there," Cyclops noted.

"You also had a bad left knee, and my hair was way curlier," Jean recalled.

"Good points," Scott said. "On the other hand, telling Nathan the truth would mean telling him I've sent him to the future, sick and alone, believing in a stranger's word that he could be healed from an infection that I shouldn't have allowed to happen in the first place. I'm not sure any child could cope with that."

"You had no other choice," Jean pointed out, repeating the words she had told her husband several times in the previous years. He looked away, guilt heavy on his face. "Maybe we can still be the Daysprings for Nate; we just have to say we've moved again."

Cyclops eyed her skeptically. "Why would he believe it?"

The telepath shrugged her shoulders. "He doesn't have a reason not to. We tell him we've changed our appearances to fool Ch'Vayre's men, and that we had to move out quickly, while he was sleeping… he did arrive in his pajamas, Scott. Westchester is this new place we've just recently heard of, where Apocalypse's hordes haven't set foot in yet."

"That's kind of hard to swallow, Jean. Nathan's not stupid."

"No, but this Nathan currently sleeping in our bed is just a child; he's naïve enough. He'll accept whatever explanation Slym and Redd give him… because he trusts us, Scott. Wholeheartedly."

"For now. But what if his presence here proves to be permanent? We can't lie to him forever."

The woman smiled at the thought of Nate growing up in the current timeline and retrieved her cup from the air. "Then we tell him the truth when he turns seven and needs to go to elementary school."

Scott chuckled at the idea of young Cable attending public school, but anything was better than growing up in a post-apocalyptical world. He considered Jean's plan for a moment. He had no idea why his son had been brought to this timeline, nor how long he would be staying. Perhaps they wouldn't need to lie for long, although in his heart he already hoped that Nathan could remain by his side for many years. He would be happy to drive him to class every day.

"I guess Slym will be staying for breakfast then," he finally said.

Jean's smile faded, and against her better judgment, she asked. "Will Emma agree to it? I'm sure she's already wondering why you aren't in her bed as we speak."

Cyclops' jaw tensed at the remark. "I've never slept with Emma, Jean. Not physically. You've read my mind, you know it," he replied irritated.

"Right, how could I forget? Your affair was only psychic. I guess that makes it okay, then," the redhead retorted, sarcasm dripping from her words.

"No, it doesn't. But neither does making out with Wolverine in the woods," the man responded acidly.

Jean almost chocked on her coffee. "W-What?"

"Yes, I happen to know about that. Guess I'm not the only one with fidelity issues around here," Scott snapped, looking his wife straight in the eye.

The telepath glared back. "It was one kiss only! Besides, it wouldn't have happened if you-"

"Save it, Jean," Cyclops interrupted her and grabbed his car keys. "I'm going to the grocery store to pick a few items for Nate. Don't let him out of the house until I'm back."

The drive to the grocery store was short and somber. Scott tried to concentrate on the road ahead but couldn't stop thinking about his conversation with Jean.

Discussing Nathan with her had felt easy and natural, almost pleasant if you ignored the oddness of the situation. Yet, as soon as he had mentioned spending time as a family -for Nate's sake, of course- she had thrown the affair in his face.

But to his surprise, instead of apologizing for the tenth time, he'd paid back in the same coin. Sure, he'd always known about a couple of kisses Logan had stolen from his wife along the years they had worked together, and also about the one time Jean had kissed him while they were held captive by Hodge in Genosha – she had told him that, in regret. Given the stressful circumstances they had been in, with both of them powerless and Logan dying, he had forgiven her – he hadn't liked it, of course, but had tried to put it behind them. But this time, in the woods, there was no imminent death threatening Wolverine and Phoenix; as far as he knew, Jean had purposely sought Logan out. God only knew why the Canadian had refused her.

So yes, his wife wasn't a saint. And to make things worse, the Phoenix Force had been bonding to her again lately, perhaps rubbing its appetite for new sensations a little too forcefully on her soul. He remembered that, a long time ago, Jean had told him how tempting the feeling of possessing limitless power was… of being able to crush stars with a single thought, or of killing and resurrecting people at one's will. He'd been horrified.

In hindsight, he should probably feel grateful that the Phoenix had been around to bring her back from the dead again. But the truth was, its on-and-off attachment to his wife terrified him. He still had plenty of nightmares in which he had to witness Jean -or the woman he thought was Jean- sacrificing herself on the moon to prevent the entity from slaughtering more people. The X-Men, and himself in special, didn't need to endure that horror show again.

It seemed like ages ago, but in fact it had only been five days since Xorn had killed Jean. Wolverine, in all his berserker rage, had decapitated the bastard in return. At the time, all he could do was cradle his wife's body in his arms and apologize for his mistakes; that was, until the Phoenix emerged and restored all her body functions. After that, Jean had spent a whole day unconscious in the infirmary. By the time she had woken up, there was no sign of the Phoenix in her mind, or so Charles had assured him.

During the brief seconds that had preceded her death, Jean and him had franticly exchanged 'I'm sorrys', as if words were enough nullify their slip-ups. But once the urgency of the situation was gone and they were back to their teacher/superhero routines, the heartache and distrust reemerged, thicker than ever.

Thus, Scott decided to move out of the boathouse to give Jean some space; no matter what she had said before dying, he knew she was still angry at him. But he too had needed time alone to reassess his recent choices. He was aware that Emma Frost was in love with him, and psychic affair or not, she had been helping him to cope with the insecurities that Apocalypse had left in his mind in a way that Jean never could. There was more to Emma than just her looks, he knew it.

He had told both women that he had finally chosen who he wanted to be with; but after learning about Jean and Logan in the woods, Scott realized he wasn't so sure anymore. Wolverine had been a thorn in his side for years but as long as Jean didn't reciprocate, he was able to control his jealousy. Except that now, apparently, things had taken a different turn in that aspect. He wasn't sure he could forgive her this time.

And then there was Nathan, back in this timeline, God only knew why. How could he teach his son to be a decent, centered man if he himself was completely lost at the moment? The other two times he had been given the opportunity to raise Nate after Maddie's death, Jean had been there with him – he didn't think he could do the whole parenting thing all by himself. He knew she loved the boy as much as he did and wouldn't accept not to take care of him. Plus, her plan could only succeed if they worked together pretending to be Redd and Slym. He would need to push his distrust aside for now, for Nate's sake.

Back from his shopping trip, Scott parked his car in the garage and entered the boathouse. Not hearing any voices, he left the groceries on the kitchen table and went into the bedroom. He found the redhead kneeling on the floor before Nathan, a soft smile on her face as she toweled his wet hair. She was wearing a denim shorts and a white and green tank top, while the boy was dressed in one of her old Stones t-shirt, which was long enough to cover his body up to his knees.

"Slym!" Nate yelled enthusiastically, untying himself from Redd's arms to run to the door.

Leaving his previous reservations aside, Scott picked the boy up and kissed his cheek, trying not to let on how elated he was to hold his son again.

"Can you believe this place has a thing called 'shower', that drops hot water onto your head? It's awesome, Slym! You should try it sometime."

"I-I will," the man replied, exchanging a sad glance with his wife from over the boy's head. In the hellish world the Daysprings lived, they could only wash themselves in public baths or whenever they found an uncontaminated pond, which was a very rare thing in the future. Either way, the water was always cold.

"It's a shame you guys didn't have time to pack my clothes when we left Crestcoast. I don't feel comfortable wandering around without underwear."

The woman chuckled at his remark and stood up. "Don't worry, Nate. I'm sure we'll find some clothes that fit you soon."

"Like you found for you? You're so lucky that the people who lived here before us had yours and Slym's sizes," the boy commented.

"We are lucky," Jean replied aloud, then sent to Scott telepathically. 'I'm going to the mall to buy him some clothes and shoes.'

Cyclops startled for a moment, not having expected his wife to abandon their previous argument so easily. He was glad she did though; Nate should be their priority right now. 'Get him some toys too, and children's books,' he said. 'The weather is nice today; I was thinking about taking him to the playground at the end of the estate. I don't think Nate's ever seen a swing or a slide.'

'What about the X-Men? Don't you have missions, or some Danger Room session scheduled for today?'

'I couldn't care less about the X-Men right now,' Cyclops retorted, earning a surprised look from the redhead. What the hell did she expect from him?

'Still, we should alert the team about Nate's presence. We can't afford to have anyone calling us 'Scott' and 'Jean' around him.'

'You're right,' the man said, placing Nate on the floor before resuming the telepathic conversation. 'Send a message to everyone in the School explaining what happened. Tell them we'll be unavailable today.'

Jean put her hands on her hips and eyed him with uncertainty. 'We? Scott, I don't think it's a good idea for us to be-'

"Are you talking in each other's heads again?" Nathan asked out of the blue. "I hate it when you leave me out of the conversation."

Scott smiled at the boy's comment, a genuine smile that Jean hadn't seen on his face in a long time. "Sorry, Nate. We were talking about the kind of food they have here for breakfast. People say it's delicious. Wanna try some?"

"If it's as good as the eggs Redd made me yesterday, yes I do," the boy replied cheerfully.

'Since when are you this good at lying?' Cyclops heard Jean asking in his mind.

'Lying was your idea, remember? But I guess I learned it from the best,' he gave back, then said aloud, "You're coming or not, Redd?"

The woman glared at Scott, doing her best to keep her hot temper in check. "No, thanks. I just lost my appetite."

Jean made a quick run to the mall, and by noon Nathan Dayspring had some brand new twenty-one century clothes that allowed him to visit the playground. At first, he didn't understand what the use of swaying on the so-called 'swing' was, but once Slym started pushing him harder, he began to have the time of his life. Scott had never heard him giggling so loud.

Father and son spent the whole day together, and Cyclops had to answer to some really tricky questions, like how many kinds of birds there were in Westchester, and how come Apocalypse's men hadn't heard of that place yet. Apparently, Scott's ability to make up answers was limitless.

Then, during lunch, Nate had asked why Redd wasn't eating with them. Scott had told him she was busy doing some chores for their new home, but he knew Jean was in fact in her office at the mansion. She had informed him she needed to talk to Charles and finish grading papers, and told him to call her if Nathan needed anything. He suspected she wanted to give them some alone time, or maybe she just couldn't stand to be near him anymore.

Either way, Cyclops decided he wouldn't be bothered by his marital problems at the moment. So he took Nathan for a stroll around the lake and taught him a little baseball; when they got tired, they sat to rest under the shadow of an old oak tree, where Scott read him a Peter Pan story and used the opportunity to teach him some English, something that Redd had already begun to do in the future. At one point, Emma had telepathically contacted him to ask 'how Jean's ridiculous act of playing family was going,' and demanded that 'Cyclops stopped being a sentimental asshole and returned to the mansion immediately to be the responsible team leader he was supposed to be'. Scott sensed the resentment in the blonde's remark but decided to ignore it. Emma had no reason to be jealous.

It was almost seven p.m. when father and son returned to the boathouse, Cyclops' mood significantly improved after a whole day dedicated to Nate. To his surprise, Jean was waiting for them with a platter of hot Chow Mein, one of his favorite dishes. Was that her way of offering an olive branch? He couldn't tell.

Nate quickly arranged the table and they sat together to eat. The boy chattered nonstop about all the fun things he and Slym had done that day, earning a true smile from the redhead. Scott watched them silently, wondering when was the last time he had seen his wife beaming like that. He couldn't recall.

After they were done eating he offered to do the dishes, giving Jean the opportunity to bathe Nathan again and prepare him to bed. She dressed him in a new pajama set, made him brush his teeth, then sat on the couch to watch old cartoons with him. Nathan had never seen a cartoon before and became hypnotized by the colorful experience. Slym sat by his other side.

"This was the best day ever," the boy told them, snuggling against Redd's chest, eyelids heavy with sleep.

Jean and Scott exchanged a brief glance. "We're glad you enjoyed it, Nate," the woman said, placing a kiss on the top of his head.

Tom continued to try to catch Jerry, but Nathan was too tired to keep track of the chase. Soon, he fell asleep.

"I think Slym managed to drain off all of Nate's energy," the redhead whispered, earning a small chuckle from her husband. "It's late. I better take him to bed."

Before she could get up, she felt Scott's hand grasping her arm.

"Wait," he said. She stopped and looked back at him. He let go of her arm and sighed, then broadcasted into her mind. 'Thank you. For cooking us dinner and… for believing in him,' Cyclops' gaze darted to his son. 'For making me believe in him. I really needed this.'

Jean nodded. 'It's all right. Nate's happy. That's what matters.'

'It is,' he agreed. 'So, can we… I mean, can Redd and Slym… try to be civil to each other?'

'Isn't that what we've been doing all evening?'

'I guess,' the man replied. 'But what I mean is, I can't sleep in the mansion while Nate's here. I want to be near him as much as I can, Jean.'

'I understand, Scott. I feel the same,' the woman told him. 'Look, I don't mind you sleeping on the couch if that's what you're worried about. I'd never force you to keep your distance from your son.'

'Our son,' Cyclops corrected her, and for a moment Jean felt her heart melting for her husband again. It didn't matter that she hadn't given birth to Nathan; to Scott, she had the same rights regarding the boy as he had as the biological parent.

She fought back some tears. 'Thanks. That means a lot.'

'It's a fact, you don't have to thank me,' he replied truthfully. 'So… will you be joining us for breakfast tomorrow? Nathan missed you during lunch. Besides, this plan will only work if we do things together.'

She hesitated for a split second, then voiced in a low tone as to not wake the boy. "Okay. I will."

"Good. Then you better be up early, Redd, because Slym is taking Nate to his first fishing trip tomorrow," Scott murmured to her, good-humored. "You wanna come?"

"Oh God, please no," Jean replied in the same friendly way. "I'd rather fight Magneto a hundred times than spend hours keeping quiet in a boat in the middle of a lake while being devoured by mosquitos."

"You know, Redd, one day you'll learn to appreciate the quietness of fishing."

"The boredom of fishing, you mean. And you only say that because you're somehow immune to mosquito bites. You always come out of these trips unscathed, while I have to endure the itching for days," Jean said, trying to sound annoyed but failing.

Scott raised his palms in a placating way. "Hey, it's not my fault that not even mosquitos can stand me."

The woman raised an eyebrow. "Well, maybe it is," she whispered, and when Scott pretended to look outraged, she let out a small laugh.

Cyclops couldn't help but laugh back. The innocent teasing between him and Jean felt scaringly familiar, and he realized how much he'd missed that kind of intimacy with her. They had been good to each other once. What the hell had happened?

"I better take Nate to bed before we wake him," he heard her saying, and for a moment contemplated asking her not to leave but said nothing. She finally stood up and used telekinesis to carry the sleeping boy to the bedroom. A few seconds later she returned to the living room with a pillow and a thin blanket. She handed them to her husband and said, "Good night, Scott."

"Good night."

Jean went back to the bedroom and closed the door behind her, while Cyclops watched her every move. He arranged the pillow on the couch, then laid down and sighed.

Life was hard, and love was truly complicated. But his son was in the next room, safe and sound, and that was all that mattered to him.

He closed his eyes and wished that the following day could be as good as today.