FIC: Grey [Jean, Ororo]
Author: Elise . citrus at pixigirl.nu
Universe: X-Men Movieverse
Summary: Jean and Ororo share a moment of cigarettes, rain and
thoughts in the garden.
Author's notes: Just a short and quite silly little thing I couldn't
resist when it popped up in my mind
The rain fell, and it seemed to wash away all the colors of the
world. Jean tried to light the cigarette in her hand, in vain,
because within seconds it had become as soaked as she was. Realizing
the impossible she let it slide down in her pocket, and withdrew
another one from the almost full package.
Jean wiped a strand of wet hair from the cheek, and stared at the
black traces of floating mascara on her hand. Her makeup had in all
likelihood immigrated from its supposed location and painted nice,
creative patterns in her face. The rain falling, removing her colors
too, like the sky's. Cleansing her. She suddenly felt as grey as the
leafless trees around her, and the sky above.
Grey as the stones beneath, on the marbled path.
"Where are you going?" Scott had asked, only tearing half an eye away
from the book in his lap.
"To have a smoke," Jean had quipped.
She'd been half way out the door.
"You don't smoke!"
And the door slammed shut.
Jean didn't smoke. Yet there were times when she chose to ignore that
The rain was pouring down, and this was the third cigarette she had
tried to light. With a puff of smoke and the feeling of unhealthiness
rushing down her lungs, it finally gave in. Smoking always gave Jean
a taste of that rebellious youth she'd never had. She inhaled deeply,
and the nicotine flushed through her bloodstream. She didn't smoke
often enough for that to become a habit, and it brought with it a
She practically jumped around, her heart pounding at the speed of a
"Since when do you smoke?"
Ororo, as soaked through as Jean was, looked like it was the most
natural thing in the world to be out walking in the pouring rain. She
also looked very amused by finding Jean smoking, and Jean couldn't
help but feel a slight sense of guilt flash through her, as if she
had been found out.
"I don't", Jean said and inhaled some more.
"Neatly packed Certain Death, Cancer-sticks, Money Burned Away and
Cancer on the side, I'm a doctor. Of course I don't smoke."
Ororo raised an eyebrow.
"No, I can see that. I hope you don't mind the rain."
"No, not at all. In fact, I was enjoying it. It suits my mood."
"Mine too." Ororo's smiled widened. "Though it looks as if your
cigarette do not quiet agree with us."
"Fuck", Jean cursed as she realized the cigarette had gone out. Not
wanting to throw it on the ground she put it in the pocket with its
companions. "Just as well, I suppose."
For awhile they just stood quiet, listening to the rain falling.
"Don't you ever wish that I don't know. Things were different?" Jean
wiped her hand over her eyelashes to remove a couple of dangling
"That would be pointless", Ororo answered after awhile. We are here
now and we might as well try to make the best of it." She looked down
to the ground for a few seconds, shuffling her feet.
Then she raised her eyes to meet Jean's. "But yes, I do sometimes
think about it."
"I'm just so exhausted with it all. The feeling that it's all in
"Perhaps it is", Ororo said. "Then again, perhaps it's not. Perhaps
you will be run over by a car tomorrow, or perhaps you will live to
be a hundred years old. Nobody knows. I try to live in the present as
much as possible. Not dwelling to much on a past I can't change or on
a future I don't know. And that has nothing to do with being a mutant
Jean sighed. "You're right of course. Even though it's not quite that
easy to actually do it."
"Of course I am right." Ororo grinned mischievously. "You should
listen to my advice more often, Jean Grey, instead of standing in the
rain, polluting your lungs and the poor innocent trees around you."
Laughter, no more than a breath at first, grew loud and full,
traveling all through the garden, scaring those poor birds who had
had the courage to leave their nests this rainy day. Laughter,
emerging from them both, refusing to be contained.
Logan watched them suspiciously from a window, lit a cigarr, and
decided some things are better left unknown. Rogue was sure she heard
some strange noise while pouring herself a glass of water in the
kitchen, and Scott looked up from his books, wondering why he
suddenly had an irrisistable urge to grin.
Jean smiled, and Ororo adjusted the rain to fall a little heavier.
Really. Truer words were never spoken.