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FIC: What She Left Behind (S/J, PG-13)

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  • loonylittlewitch
    Title: What She Left Behind Author: Lisea (loonylittlewitch@yahoo.com) Author s website: http://www.freewebs.com/draakkon Rating: PG-13 Pairing: S/J Summary:
    Message 1 of 1 , Dec 2, 2003
      Title: What She Left Behind
      Author: Lisea (loonylittlewitch@...)
      Author's website: http://www.freewebs.com/draakkon
      Rating: PG-13
      Pairing: S/J
      Summary: Scott goes through Jean's office. Post-X2
      Notes: Thanks to my betas, Quidam and H. :D


      I had to turn the room upside down to find the key. Everytime I've
      been to her office, she's usually been there, or somewhere close
      enough by to leave the door open. I'd find her staring into a
      microscope or a medical journal or whatever she had been working on
      at the time. She'd look at me leaning against the doorframe and
      smile, and I'd felt right at home.

      So back then I used to plop down on her couch in her office, grab
      one of her medical journals and a pen and started scribbling over
      the white edges on the pages.

      She'd given me the "don't-you-have-anywhere-else-to-be"-look. I've
      come to know that look. It bordered on irritation and amusement.

      I've made a painful discovery of using the past tense lately.

      The whole medbay is dark now. No one comes to turn the light on,
      because there's no one to turn the lights on for. Jean was always
      the first to come and the last to leave. In the dark, I make my way
      to her office at the back, use the long-lost and re-found spare key
      to open the door. The smell of her perfume floats out of the open
      door, and for a minute I must catch my breath as the visual memory
      of my hand on her hip overwhelms me.

      It's been only four days. Four days since my world came down in a
      shatter of glass (or a tidal wave of Alkali Lake) and I can't decide
      whether I want to stay in bed or pace around the mansion,
      remembering her, her laugh or the click of her heels along the

      The students give me worried looks as I drag myself along the
      hallways. The Professor has given me time off. As long as I need,
      he'd said.

      I had shown up for math class the next morning anyway. My clothes
      were a little wrinkled and I hadn't slept a minute, but I still have
      a job to do.

      And doing something for an hour and a half means I get an escape
      from thinking about something else.

      But I can't ignore it. A new doctor is coming in on Monday, I have
      Jean's office to clear out. Ororo and even Logan offered to do it
      for me, but I need to do this myself. I can't throw anything away
      just yet, so I'll store them in our room.

      I close the office door behind me and make my way to her desk, pull
      back the leather chair and sit. I run my palms over the leather desk
      top. She has my photo on her desk. I reach over and turn it against
      the desk. I don't want to see myself happy, it sickens me now.

      Sighing, I start to open the drawers. Pens, papers, a stapler, post-
      it notes.... the usual office junk. I let them be for now and look
      for things that were Jean's personal items.

      Something in the bottom drawer catches my attention. A thick, purple
      (probably sky blue to anyone but me) book. The first half of the
      pages are slightly rumbled and stained with countless fingerprints
      over a long period of time. How long had she kept it? Months?

      I open it, carefully going through the first pages. The first entry
      is from 4 years back, from the night of our first date.


      May 13th,

      I've never been too fond of these diary things. I'm so not a diary
      person. But I'm going out with Scott today, and I've got too many
      thoughts in my head. Most of them even my own.

      But here goes. Scott's taking me for dinner tonight. He won't tell
      me where, so I have no idea what he's up to. I don't even know what
      I should be wearing! My black dress? Something more casual?

      I doubt he'd take me for a hamburger or anything. He may be male,
      but he's no idiot. I think there's something seriously wrong with
      him. No man has ever been that nice.

      I want him. Whatever happens tonight, I want to keep him. I'm not
      even worried about how "easy" I might look tonight. I'd give myself
      to him this minute if he'd asked me to.

      Problem solved. Black dress it is.


      I blink a few times, re-reading the entry over and over. She had
      looked stunning in that black dress. Ending just above her knees and
      with a cleavage which no doubt was illegal in some countries, she
      had taken my breath away.

      I got my revenge when I took her breath away later that evening in
      the privacy of my bedroom.

      Some people think I can't cry anymore. Bullshit. The tears just get
      pushed out faster.

      I wipe my face with my sleeve, and turn the page to read her next
      entry. From the day after the date.


      May 14th,

      I woke up next to him this morning after falling asleep in his room
      last night. I must say, the man is impressive! We came home around
      half past midnight and stayed in his bed until we fell asleep as the
      sun came up.

      I feel sore in places I never knew existed.

      I watched him sleep before I got up to take a shower. He's so
      beautiful when he sleeps.


      I got lost on memory lane again.

      She had had a towel wrapped around her as she got out of the

      I had laid on her side of the bed, on my stomach, unmoving and
      pretending to sleep. It's not like she could've seen my eyes were
      open. It was the days before neither her telekinesis nor her
      telepathy had been a common phenomenon.

      She had gone over to the other side of the bed and I couldn't see
      her anymore. I silently argued with myself over getting up so I
      could see her again, but felt her pressing against my back before I
      had decided.

      "You awake?" she had asked with a husky whisper in my ear.

      "Not sure yet. Pinch me," I had said with a grin and yelped when she
      pinched me on the ass. "Ow!"

      "You said pinch me!" Jean laughed and fell to lie on her back on the

      "Sheesh! I said pinch, woman, not...." I continued as I got up to
      stand by the bed, rubbing my sore behind.

      "You're awake, aren't you?" Jean interrupted. She sat up on the edge
      of the bed and pulled me closer by the waistband of my boxers and
      started to slowly inch them lower, "Come here. I'll kiss and make it
      better" she said, and I'll never forget the michievous look she had
      on her face.


      I was trying to ignore the erection in his pants by shifting
      position and turning a number of pages.


      April 15th

      We brought in the Wolverine today.

      And my, isn't he a beefcake. And knowing that, I feel terrible. I
      don't want to feel this. I love Scott.

      I've spent hours trying to convince myself of that. My body refuses
      to listen. When Logan grabbed me and took me down in the med lab,
      all I wanted was for him to rip my clothes off, and have sex on the
      exam bed.

      Scott doesn't know. I pray to god he never will.

      I love Scott. At the end of the day, that's all that matters.


      Reading that entry, my blood ran cold. I knew full and well Jean
      would choose me over Logan.

      Would have chosen. Past tense, Scott.

      I turn the pages over at random. This entry was made a few months
      later, on the day I got my Mazda and we ended up having ice cream by
      a lake.


      June 20th

      And yet another car.

      Someday, I should give him an ultimatum. The cars or me. Funny thing
      is, I have some doubts about the outcome.

      But in all fairness, he probably feels the same about me and my
      microscopes. But at least I come to bed at night.

      And it's a cold bed to be alone in.


      I slide my fingers over the paper as though it would be Jean's
      skin, "Baby..."

      There's a cold sting in my chest for leaving her alone. Little did I
      know, back then, that she wouldn't always be there.

      The heaps of metal in the garage would have a somewhat longer life
      span, and I give himself a mental kick for not understanding it
      before it was too late.

      Tears are running down my cheeks again, and I use my sleeve to wipe
      them off. I turn a number of pages again, finding an entry from the
      day Logan came back. The day before she died.


      September 12th

      The nightmares are getting worse. Much worse. I nearly shook down
      the painting over the head of the bed one night. The heavy frame
      might have killed us both, had it come down on us.

      Scott worries about me. The trouble is, I can't say there's nothing
      to worry about. I don't want to lie to him.

      To add to his worries, Logan's back. I have some mixed feelings
      about that. But I'll wait till I come home from Boston to resolve

      If nothing catastrophical happens, that is.


      Well, something catastrophical did happen.

      I slam the book shut, press it against my chest and stare absently
      at the ceiling tiles. Cold metal. I have to wonder if my heart will
      look as cold one day.

      I get up, put the book on the sofa where I'd remember to take it
      with me when I leave to read it later, and start putting away her
      belongings in boxes. When I'm done, I'll take them up to my room. If
      this is the only thing left of her, I won't throw her away.
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