From the Ashes - Part 1
Posted on Sat Mar 9th, 2024 @ 3:01pm by Charles Xavier & Scott Summers & Moira MacTaggert & Jean Grey & Hank McCoy
5,906 words; about a 30 minute read
Mission:
Episode 4: The Savage ConneXion
Location: Mutant Research Center | Muir Island
Timeline: August 31st, 1990
Time stood still for Scott as they fled Krakoa for Muir Island, Jean's presence in his arms was a singular yet surreal balm to his shattered mind. He became an island to himself, numb to his friends as he fiercely kept Jean from any separation. Hank and Professor Xavier yielded to his desperate cling. Scott had allowed Hank a mere moment for a vitals check when Jean fell unconscious before he enveloped her again. Hank had determined she was under the effects of powerful sedatives, exhaustion, and potential malnutrition. Left alone again, Scott's hands trembled as they traced the extent of her torment.
Bruises and track marks marred her skin, her slow, heavy breaths and half-closed eyes a testament to the drugs used to subdue her. She was a shadow of her former self, yet her broken nails and the bruises from restraints spoke of her fierce resistance. Scott's heart swelled with a bitter pride; even stripped of her powers, Jean had fought valiantly.
A collar had bruised her neck. No doubt similar to the same cruel device used by so many governments. For Jean, it had been a prison to mute her powers and her presence. She was dehumanized, treated as nothing more than an object to be used and discarded. In his arms, she felt fragile, her once strong frame reduced to delicate vulnerability. A feeding tube in her side, a stark symbol of her captors' ruthless control and Jean's resistance to the bitter end, fueled Scott's guilt for not rescuing her sooner.
Yet, through the torture, Jean's face remained untouched, her beauty intact as if her captors prized it above her suffering. The soft lines of her jaw and high cheekbones, her full lips, her long red hair he loved so much, all of her beauty remained the same. Scott could only stare in appalling horror at the thought. They hadn’t ever struck her or marred her face. Someone valued her looks and had wished to keep them intact despite the dehumanizing treatment they had put her through. There were no good reasons for that, so Scott led with a lecherous assumption that made him boil with rage.
It wasn’t until their arrival at Muir Island, when Moira’s medical team finally forced him to let go of Jean, did the sensation of passing time return for Scott. His awareness of it moved at a snail’s pace. They whisked her away to the medical bay, leaving him to sit in the waiting area while they worked. Diagnostic test after diagnostic test was performed on the groggy redhead as she continued to slip in and out of consciousness. While they hadn’t allowed him into her hospital room, a large observation window was open to the waiting area, allowing him to watch them work on her. Scott found some comfort in being able to see her. But in the end, he was trapped, sitting and waiting until medicine provided them with answers.
At some point during all of his waiting Professor Xavier had arrived, his chair silently slipping past Scott, his attention fixed on the same person as him.
"Any updates?" Scott didn't look up from the floor. His fingers were steepled together while his elbows leaned so hard into his knees that a strong wind might have toppled him.
"Not since we first arrived," the Professor said, his voice strained. It had been a surreal day for him as well. "Hank is assisting as he can. We'll just have to be patient."
Scott nodded, then retreated back into himself. After all this time, there was no scenario where they found Jean in good health. It could have been worse. He told himself that over and over again. The problem was that he couldn't see how.
Finally, Moira MacTaggert’s office door opened. She called them inside where a stack of diagnostic printouts sat on her desk along with a few x-rays which were illuminated on the wall mounted light box behind her.
“Firstlae, I can tell ye thot Jeaan is gooing to b' faine. She’ll need a wee time to recoover but there’s nary a cause fer permanent damage.”
Moira's pregnant pause allowed for relief to fill the room. There was more to be said, but the most important information had been shared.
“She’s been heavily sedated for an extended period of taime with a wicked powerful cocktail of tranquilizers. Thot'd bae why she was practically catatonic when ye foond her. I've added a slew of medications to 'er fluid bag thot should help counteract those sedatives. She’s already more alert than when yet first arrived, an' she’ll improove in good taime.”
Scott listened to Moira with rapt attention like she was reading his lottery numbers.
“Noow 'er kidneys an' liver enzymes are a wee elevated, but I think that’s related to dehydration an' 'er starving 'erself. I’m caertain she’ll eat once she’s feeling a wee better, so I expect we can take the feeding toobe out tomorrow.”
"Oh, thank goodness," Charles said unabashedly.
Scott was grateful as well, but he still had questions. "Moira, what they did to her was unconscionable. Do you have any idea what they were after?"
“Mebbe," said Moira with some hesitancy. "The strangest part woos 'er metabolic panel. Jeaan had extremely 'igh levels of follicle stimulating hormones. We usually only see levels like this in women who are undergoing fertility treatments in preparation farr egg 'arvesting. I cannae saey whoot they were planning on dooing but thot would bae my first guess.”
"Thank you, Moira..." Scott lowered his head and tried to still his quivering chin.
Moira frowned in solidarity but maintained her professional poise in order to conclude her evaluation. “She saems to 'ave been coonfained to a baed far soometaime now, so 'er muscles will bae waek, but mooch like the broossus and marks acrooss her bowdey, all shall goo aweey in taime.”
"Can... can we see her?" Scott nearly choked on the words.
“A harrowing ordeal for the lass to bae su'ure, but from a physical perspective, Jeaan waell recoover. However, I cannae spaek aboot 'er mental steete. I think it’s baest fer Chaarles to spaek with her.“
The Professor remained silent and pensive. Each detail unnerved him more than the last. Jean was his telepathic protégé, his hope for helping guiding the future generation. She was gentle and kind with passion and strength, and he loved her like a daughter. And heinous people had taken her and tortured her. There was no version of events that did anything other than stoke the flames of his ire. Normally he was not a man of vengeance, but days like today tempted him something fierce in the way of his oldest friend and archenemy.
"I will see her then," said the Professor.
Scott returned to his chair in the waiting room. Freshly cleaned up out of his medical scrubs, Hank was sitting there as well, enjoying much-needed refreshments from the complimentary vending machine.
"Hank..." Scott's voice wavered on the verge of tears. "How could they?"
“If I could answer that,” said Hank, laying one hand on Scott’s shoulder, “we would have a hope of finding them and making them pay.”
Talk of vengeance from Hank seemed so out of character. Yet they all had been changed and Hank's words only gave voice to what Scott felt inside. Well, half of it. Scott couldn't help but wonder what might've been had he not...
Scott shook his head. He needed to stay in the moment. Everything else was a distraction or worse.
The observation window to Jean’s room was still open before them. It allowed them both to watch the exchange between the Professor and Jean without having to intrude. Since the conversation would all be telepathic anyway, they would get just as much out of it from their current position outside the room than if nearby.
Jean sat up as Xavier entered the room. Moira was right, she already looked better than when they had first arrived. She warmly smiled at the Professor. Scott could tell that the conversation between them had already begun. Things started out simple enough. A clear probing expression passed over the Professor's face, and it didn’t take long before Jean’s features darkened and sadness welled up inside of her. Charles reached out and held her hand before she began to cry. It started out with simple tears though soon devolved into wracking sobs. Her whole body heaved and gasped as she succumbed to her grief and her pain, a soul-wrenching travail that was raw and tortuous even to watch. Scott hadn’t heard her cry like that in a very long time, not since they were children. The sounds echoed in his ears despite the glass separating them, thanks to memories of her past grief.
The Professor did his best to comfort her despite how his own brow furrowed with worry over what she was sharing with him. It was rare to see him so physically impacted by even the most sordid tales. Whatever this was, it was bad.
Eventually her sobbing subsided. Jean found some composure again, but she seemed battered and exhausted from what she had shared with him. Xavier asked her something else, to which she nodded her head in agreement. They both closed their eyes, lost in that astral trance that indicated they were deep in thought together. When it was over, Jean seemed to be relieved, grateful for whatever he had done. She leaned forward and hugged the Professor. They remained in their embrace for a long moment. Both of their mouths turned upwards into a smile when finished.
After their cathartic exchange, the Professor's body language shifted. He posed one last question, which brought her gaze past him to Scott. Her eyes softened when she looked at him and she nodded her head in agreement.
The Professor wheeled his way out of her room and approached Scott outside.
“She has requested to speak with you," Charles said. "Alone.”
Scott froze. Up until now, he had been operating on instinct alone, bearing up under the driving force of bringing Jean home. His Jean. Heart of his heart. Love of his life. His forsaken hope.
“Go on,” the Professor urged. “I'll sit with Hank. You've both waited long enough.”
“I… I don't know if I can,” Scott confessed with a wince.
“Go,” Charles repeated, his voice taking on an imperious fatherly tone.
Scott nodded. What else was he going to do? Stand there and cry? Well, it wasn't out of the realm of possibility.
After Scott was out of earshot, the Professor allowed a lone tear to fall from his cheek. "Never," he said, confiding in Hank. "Never in all my years..."
Hank wasn’t sure what it was The Professor was talking about, but he also didn’t want to ask for clarification. He had thought of The Professor as a second father for many years and asking a parent ‘what are you talking about’ felt awkward. So instead, he asked “how is she, really?”
"She's alive," said the Professor gravely, as if it wasn't a sure thing. "I will need some time just to process the rest."
As Scott walked into the room, he felt the familiar vibrancy of Jean’s waking presence. Though she may be weak in body, her soul was revived if still battered. Guilty made a mockery of his hope, poisoning him to the point of withering inside.
“Hi,” Scott said weakly. He was full of disbelief on a number of levels. Was this real? Was it really her? Would she still want to see him once she knew? “Welcome back. I'm… I'm glad you're back.”
“Hey, you.” Her smile widened as he stepped into the room. Painful loneliness and grief, harsh words, jeers of disappointment and disapproval all had followed him for weeks, but not here, not with Jean. Everything was exactly as it had been; Jean still loved him.
“I’m back thanks to you.” She sensed his hesitation but willingly discounted it as residual emotion that lingered from her rescue. It sometimes took extra time to process everything once the adrenaline had worn off. Besides, Jean had never known a Scott who didn’t want to speak with her, to be near her.
“Come, sit with me.” She gestured for him to come closer, to be next to her. “The moment I knew I had reached you, I knew you would do anything to find me.”
Scott did as she asked, hiding his tears behind his ruby-quartz glasses. “I did what I could,” he said, hiding the croak in his throat with a clearing cough. “It wasn't much. I wish I had done more.”
The guilt in his voice overflowed into his aura that cast a pall vibe over the room. He stared at her, unblinking and frozen in time. The tension of the moment was pure agony, but if it was the last time she ever looked on him with that life-giving, heartache-quenching expression, then Scott wanted to stretch it out as long as he could. “I never stopped loving you,” he said with a catch in his voice. “I just hope I can…”
He trailed off and shook his head. How could he tell her? She deserved so much better than him. “Jean…” All he could do was hold her hand and savor her touch. Even that felt like theft in light of his backstabbing faithlessness. As if he was stealing something that was no longer his to have and to hold.
“Hey, what’s wrong?” Her hand caressed his and he felt the touch of her telepathy. It soothed the hurt inside of him, softening the sharp edges and filling the dark holes. He felt less broken when she was with him. But maybe he deserved brokenness.
“I love you too and don’t feel guilty.” Words from Jean that had always been his salvation. “Do you want to talk about it or do you want to show me?”
Scott’s words often fell short. He had built so many walls that sometimes he found it hard to speak about what he was experiencing. Jean had learned how to listen to his heart thanks to her own gifts. It was a connection that had saved him and made her love him.
“If you don't, that's okay too.”
Her loving graciousness was too much. Scott broke down weeping and leaned his forehead against her hand. The one he still held.
“I… I betrayed you.” His words came up like vomit, full of bile and self-loathing. “I don't know how it happened. When you reached out to me and I heard your voice, it came out of her mouth. I kept seeing your face instead of hers.” His lungs weren't working right. Air came only with a fight. He couldn't breathe. But he went on anyway. “And…then…”
Scott couldn't talk. All he could do was hold back the wailing in his soul. He opened his mind to Jean and prepared himself for the scourging he deserved, for the rejection and abandonment that she owed him for the infidelity he had shown her.
He let her see the dream that Aurora entered, the loneliness and pain that she had soothed. With great shame, he let Jean see him let Aurora into his room where they made love for the first time on the bed he had once shared with Jean.
He let Jean see the conversation under the willow tree overlooking Breakstone Lake where Aurora revealed she was pregnant with his child. The mental link he had shared with Aurora had shown him the new life which had formed within her womb.
There was more. Scott didn't hold back. He couldn't, not once the dam had broken. The workout in the gym, the sultry shower with Aurora where in the throes of passion she begged him to marry her, the secret date he had given her where instead of talking things through he had proposed to her out of a sense of duty.
All of the intimate moments they had crammed into a week’s time where Scott had allowed himself to use Aurora body and soul to soothe his inner turmoil and survivor's guilt were laid bare for Jean to see.
Jean could see the elopement ceremony, the hotel room afterward, their confession to Professor Xavier and Scott's subsequent banishment from the X-Mansion. Through it all, he had stood by Aurora. Even had grown to love her after a fashion for the duty and honor he owed her.
And the pleasure she had given him amidst his pain. That was the worst of it. Scott couldn't deny in his inner mind where Jean had free roam that for all of his guilt, he had enjoyed his fall. That agony threatened to tear him apart in her presence.
“Jean…” His voice had fallen to but a hoarse whisper. “I am so sorry…”
He felt her pain, that heart-tearing, soul-crushing pain that came from a broken heart. Jean had been tortured and brutalized, but this pain was a different kind, the pain of having so many promises broken—he had destroyed something precious and beautiful.
“Oh, Scott, I’m sorry too.” Jean’s tone was wounded, deeply hurt by everything he had confessed to, by what he had damaged between them. She felt it hard to look at him. Out of all the agony she had endured, Scott had delivered the blow that hurt the most.
She felt Scott break as she shared her feelings and her words with him. He shattered at her feet and overwhelmed her thoughts with his remorse and regret, this abysmal feeling of loss and the horror that he had unknowingly destroyed the thing he cherished the most. He loved her with everything that he was, a resounding truth and the reason why he had braved the unknown to bring her here to this point. The moment he heard a whisper of her voice, he had abandoned everything. Scott threw himself into finding her, saving her, and had risked his life on a hunch because the sliver of hope that he might find her was worth dying for.
She knew if she had not been a telepath, situations like this would have been so much simpler. With only her own thoughts to guide her, she could have coiled around her pain and struck him down with a single, angry, venomous bite. But that wasn’t Jean’s reality. Her thoughts and consciousness hadn’t belonged to just herself for a very long time. Every person she encountered shared their story with her and it was through this shared existence that Jean had learned compassion, to empathize with any man and to love them for simply being. Even the most wicked of men still had souls.
But Scott was no evil and vile creature, so Jean didn’t pull away from him as he confessed his infidelity. Her hand did not recoil from his grasp and the gentle presence in his mind remained intact. Instead, she pulled his head in to rest on her breast. Jean’s free hand began to stroke his hair, a soothing gesture to help calm his rough and gasping breaths, to still his guilty and wounded soul. Scott and Jean had built their lives together, from fragile children to lovers, and had both played a vital role in each other’s development. He was a part of her; to walk away from that kind of love was much harder than most people could realize. She felt his pain, his shame, and how terribly sad and lost he had been.
Scott was lost, like he had been when they were younger. Jean remembered his childhood, being pushed from the plane, his traumatic brain injury, the guilt of surviving and then the loneliness and abandonment in the orphanage. How those events walled him up and shut him down. It was like he was back in that old place where his strength and confidence, his unwavering conviction and belief in who he was and what he stood for, all of it was gone. Scott had always felt like a lighthouse to Jean, a beacon that guided her home, that guided her back to him. He had always watched over her and protected her all while withstanding the crashing waves that relentlessly pounded against them. Today, there was no beacon inside of Scott. He was dark and crumbling. He was so lost, so forgotten in his grief. How had he gotten so lost?
When they had last been together, he had refused to leave her behind and his steadfast determination had been intact. Jean looked for his memories of their last mission together and found they were missing. She searched within his mental timeline and found his escape from Krakoa was nothing more than a blank page. She sucked in a sharp breath as she finally connected the dots. The pieces of Scott’s puzzle finally coming together enough for her to form a complete picture.
“I have to show you something.” There was a calm urgency in her voice. “But I’m tired and weak, so I need you close to me.”
Touch had always been a way for telepaths to heighten their communication. It wasn’t usually required except when Jean was exhausted or seeking a deeper connection, then she relied on touch. Taking his head in her hands, she guided him to sit on the edge of her bed before she pulled him in close and rested her forehead against his. She wrapped her arms around his neck and closed her eyes. Taking a few deep breaths and steadying her mind, Jean showed him the nail-biting first mission to Krakoa.
/// They were out of time and with each minute that passed they were running out of options. Scott refused to leave her, to board the plane without her. But if they all tried to leave, this living island was going to be a death sentence for all of them. Jean made her decision in that moment and knew what needed to be done. She turned back and looked at him, daring to steal one final glance at Scott before he would be gone forever.
~* ‘I love you’ *~ She confessed to him one last time before her telekinesis shoved him into the awaiting Blackbird.
Scott, unable to react, merely stumbled into the cabin of the Blackbird, his protests going without recognition as the doors slammed shut. The massive jet was once again pushed, forcing it to become airborne rather than to crash on the ground below. Autopilot protocols took over from there and ferried Scott back home to his private doom.
Once the jet was gone, Jean’s focus returned to the swarm of deadly plants encroaching on her. Her body and mind growing weary, she would at least try to buy enough time to ensure the Blackbird was free of this place. As she was surrounded and she began to falter, a distant voice whispered to her. It was a voice she hadn’t heard in a very long time, not since she was a child and she felt Annie’s soul leaving her body and watched as the light left her eyes. When Jean was a child, she had ignored the voice and its whispering words. But now, as desperate as she was, Jean dared to answer. With her answer a deep well of fierce and devastating power became available to her. Wanting to survive, to live, Jean dove into the new and frightening power offered to her. Jean’s body warmed and her senses sprung to life, an intoxicating sense of ultimate power filled her veins. Waves of hellfire surged through her and Jean reveled in the rage and destruction this power provided. The island was immolated around her, Jean’s threats crumbled, all burned to ash at her feet. And just as fast as that unknown power had filled her, it left her, leaving Jean consumed by crippling exhaustion. Whatever that power had been, it was a relentless and brutal force that her body was unprepared to house. She dropped to her knees before collapsing onto the charred ground and the world soon faded to black around her. When she woke, a collar had been placed around her neck and she was locked in a cell, her torture only just beginning. \\\
With those missing moments returned to him, Jean ended her vision but she remained close, letting him take in what he had just learned, the mental holes now filled to better explain what had been lost. Those lost memories had created the unknown void that made him empty inside, that all-consuming loss that had inspired so much of his recent behavior.
“No!” Scott cried out. The truth was searing, excruciating, and freeing all at once. He had been made to leave her behind. That choice was made for him. Sitting there with Jean, it was a maelstrom of confusion being washed away by realization. Reliving that awful moment again as if for the first time performed a reset of sorts within him. “What have I done?”
If Jean hadn't been holding him near and dear, he would have run away. Her touch was more than an embrace. It was an old part of him finally restored to what it once was. Nothing, not even the compulsion to throw himself into the sea, could tear him loose from her.
“Why do you still love me?” Scott wailed. It would be easier to be rejected, cast aside, to shrivel and die as the withering husk he saw himself as. It's what he had become. “I took your gift and…and…and…”
Even his mind began shutting down. The shock was too much. His body began to tremor without restraint from the crumbling walls around his emotions. All he could do was lay next to her, nearly atop of her, and hang on for dear life like fruit on the vine.
“Because I believe in you, because you matter, because you’re my best friend and my family. Because I can’t picture what my life would be like without you in it. Because once upon a time I promised to love you forever.” When Jean spoke from the heart, it was always with honesty, a trait that all the X-Men knew to be true. Scott and Jean’s bond ran so deep and pure that there were no boundaries between them, so her absolution was his salvation. It didn't make sense on a rational level, but deep down in his heart, he knew it couldn't be any other way. She was holding onto him because that is what love means.
It was then that Scott realized he had not given up on Jean. The person he had given up on was himself. He had been too busy focusing on his loss of his team and family to see he was losing himself too. The slide had been hard to ignore but impossible to forestall, not with that fatal flaw unchecked. In hindsight, it seemed inevitable that he would betray Jean, for he'd already betrayed himself.
“How can I ever make this right?” The question wasn't asked from his whimpering, abject wretchedness. That was peeling away, one layer at a time, with each moment in Jean's presence. The question came from his sense of mission, the banished hero returned from exile, the courageous man who would do anything for love and honor.
She looked up at the ceiling and let out a long, weary sigh. There was a mountain of tasks to perform in order to achieve that goal, part of which included addressing her own devastation. That was a pain she acknowledged but currently set aside as Scott fell apart and started to rebuild himself before her.
“You’ve hurt a lot of people and you’ve ruined their trust in you, your credibility.” Harsh words and a grim reality but he wasn’t alone in this, at least not anymore.
Jean returned to idly running her fingers through his hair and caressing the length of his back. Her touch providing a source of comfort and reassurance for both of them.
“First you need to figure out what you want from Aurora, will you go back to her? You have to make that decision.” Jean didn’t like ultimatums but she needed to know where she stood with him. She needed to know how much pain she would need to recover from while she stayed in Muir. “My request is that you don’t drag it out, I don’t think anyone’s heart can handle that.” Jean kept it vague but he knew she was talking about herself.
“You have to help raise that child.” Now these words hurt Jean. Children were a gift and they were innocent, but she had always dreamed of marrying Scott, of being the mother to his children—an honor that sadly felt stripped away from her.
They were in agreement there, but it was low-hanging fruit. Scott felt the pang of loss that resounded in Jean's heart.
“You have to talk to Charles.” She used his first name, to remind them all of how personal this was. “He loves you like a son. Not talking to him about everything, that’s what hurt him the most. Tears and anger aside, he’s a man of reason and a man of action, so showing him that you want to do better goes farther than promising it.”
Scott soaked in her wisdom like a sponge. Painful though it was, he would ignore an angelic choir just to hear another word.
“As for our team, those who are found. You have to admit your failures and try harder. Our relationships run deep and with time they can trust you again.”
And Jean didn't know the half of it. Scott had told off half the mansion before he left.
“The students, I think it’s best that you take a break from them. Teenage tempers run hot and their emotions complicate things, because they are learning how to be adults. I wouldn’t go back to the school until you’re really ready to be there, so that you can provide them with the unwavering direction and support they need.”
Maybe the mansion wasn't where he needed to be, though. Scott refocused on her words.
“As for me…” She swallowed hard and he felt her throat bob as she stifled her own emotions “I’m not sure what I need just yet. I’m going to need time no matter what. I’m not really sure where I stand in your life but I will always support you. Some would view my compassion as weaknesses or stupidity, that you’re not worthy of forgiveness. But every time that I have been lost, it was you who found me… who would I be if I didn’t do the same for you?”
Her voice broke and she finally allowed herself to cry. Jean shared her own pain, how destructive and hopeless her abduction had made her. “I’m scared, Scott. What was done to me in that facility, it’s hurt my soul and torn open wounds I had worked so hard to heal. I don’t want to go through this alone…”
While she spoke, Scott's mind was a steel trap. It wasn't to push her out but so he could focus on her emotional expression without overreacting to what she was saying. She deserved to be heard. She deserved so many things.
And she was right. There wasn't a single point where she was wrong. Scott had to work through everything, point by point, until something resembling a plan came together.
For her benefit, he spoke aloud. “I'm not going to leave,” Scott began. “Let's start there. I died that day when I came back home and you didn't. I can't do that again. Home is where you are, Jean.”
That wasn't what Jean said he needed to decide first, but he disagreed. It was first and foremost in his heart.
“What I want from Aurora is forgiveness. I used her. She said she chose me, but the Professor was right. That means nothing. Consent to do wrong is still wrong.” Scott choked up again but he swallowed it back. “I don't know how to ask that of her, not yet. But the promises I made to her… they belonged to you first. It makes me feel like a monster to tell her that, but I must.”
He let out a deep sigh before continuing. “That baby is my responsibility. I let that compel me into even more wrong decisions, but that stops now. I will be the father I never had. I owe Aurora and the baby a debt I'll spend the rest of my life repaying. But that is all I can give them.” He squeezed her hand. “I cannot give her what belongs to another.”
Looking back towards the observation deck, Scott saw Hank and the Professor speaking to one another, facing away from the window out of respect. When he looked back at Jean, another decision had been made. “I may have been our team leader once upon a time, but I'm not a teacher. My place is not at a school instructing others. It's on mission.” Bowing his head, Scott reopened himself to her. “My first mission is us. I've seen myself without you and I don't like what I see. Whatever it takes, we will rebuild what we had. Only then can we do the rest.”
She wanted to kiss him, she wanted to lose herself in him and find that familiar comfort that only he could provide. His love was where she found a different type of strength, a strength that Jean couldn’t recreate when she was alone. She dared to share that small desire with him despite the fact that it felt wrong. Like she was weak for seeking intimacy after being disrespected, that she was foolish for needing this, for needing him. But it was hard to deny her heart. When death danced so close to them, it felt like a waste of life to deny herself what she wanted. Jean loved Scott.
She looked back at him, finally allowing herself to really see and feel him again. Her green eyes returned to that warm and easy gaze where it was no longer painful to look at him. She nodded her head in agreement, affirming that she too wanted to repair their relationship.
Reaching into his pocket, Scott slid out the wedding ring that felt like a stone weight. He held it between his thumb and forefinger for as long as it took to retrieve it. With eyes only for Jean, he gave her what the psychic rapport between them demanded. He drew his lips into hers, soft and gentle as could be, hesitant for any sign of pain or protest, but he only felt Jean’s love for him as he kissed her.
The ring slid from his fingers onto the floor where it landed with a thud.
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