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FIC: If Only (1/1) PG [Scott/Jean, Bobby]

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  • razrbkr@juno.com
    Title: If Only Author: kaly (razrbkr@juno.com) Homepage: http://www.geocities.com/kalyw Rating: PG Archive: if I ve given you permission before, go for it.
    Message 1 of 1 , Aug 30, 2000
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      Title: If Only
      Author: kaly (razrbkr@...)
      Homepage: http://www.geocities.com/kalyw
      Rating: PG
      Archive: if I've given you permission before, go for it.
      Otherwise, please ask.
      Classification: angst, Jean's POV
      Characters: Scott/Jean, Bobby
      Warnings: death story, angst
      Series: Acts of Love. Along with "Please Remember"
      Summary: Jean reacts to Scott's death. Companion piece to
      "Please Remember"

      Note: I was going to bed. Really I was. Instead I wrote a
      fic. *sigh* Oh well, who am I to disagree with my psychotic
      muse?

      Canon Note: Okay, I'm playing with the canon lines here. This
      is basically movieverse with one big exception - I'm portraying
      Bobby more like the *comic* version: older and one of the
      original five (thus a friend and not a student). And Hank is
      mentioned in passing.

      Thanks: To Kris for reading over this for me :-)

      Disclaimer: No one in here is mine. Dang it. These folks
      belong to Marvel. Tho I'd gladly take Scott and/or Bobby in the
      form of a gift or donation. And the only thing I get from it is
      email, no money so send the lawyers elsewhere. *g*


      If Only


      Maybe if I'd known I was going to lose him I would have done
      something different. I would have rushed ahead, pushed myself
      harder. Would have done whatever I had to, to be at his side.

      That's what you do when you love someone. Anything . . .
      Everything to keep them safe. And I love him with all that I am.
      I always have.

      If I could have seen what was going to happen I wouldn't have let
      Scott out of my sight. I would have held on tighter and not let
      him go. Savored the sound of his voice in my ears, his presence
      in my mind and the feel of his hands on my skin.

      If only I had known he was going to be ripped away from me.

      It's so easy to look back and question everything. Hindsight is
      not only twenty-twenty, it is also a cruel and torturous reminder
      of how things might have been. How they should have been.

      Yesterday - God, could it possibly have only been yesterday? We
      spent the afternoon walking around the grounds. We didn't talk
      much, there wasn't anything pressing to say. We only enjoyed the
      time that was granted - a time free of missions and fights.

      The little things stand out. The way the leaves were falling and
      the smile on his face. It was cold and he gave me his jacket. He
      always was the gentleman type, for as long as I've known him.

      When we reached the large oak tree, he took my hand in his - in a
      perfect mirror of the first time I'd ever held his hand in mine.
      The years between that night and this feel like days. The day
      between yesterday and now, an eternity.

      There was no way of knowing the horror we would face in the next
      few hours. Instead, we blindly enjoyed the day. The school was
      at break; everyone was getting along amazingly well. The skies
      were the deepest sapphire blue of fall. And we were together.

      So many things have happened in our lifetimes - trials and
      troubles most people never imagine. A day like yesterday - pure
      and innocent and free - is rare and all the more wonderful for it.
      Even still, we took the time for granted. It's so hard not just
      to assume you have forever. I think I had managed to convince
      myself we did.

      Last night, with the mansion quiet around us we made love slowly.
      As with the day before it, nothing was rushed. Neither of us was
      thinking of anything outside that moment.

      Closing my eyes, I can still feel his hands on my back and in
      my hair. If I think just hard enough, it's as if I can feel his
      lips against mine. As we moved together, I didn't want the night
      to end - I didn't want to move from that one moment of
      togetherness.

      But it had to end. I fell asleep with my cheek pressed to his
      chest, his heartbeat steady in my ear, and his arms around me.
      I've never felt so safe as I did in his arms, languid with
      release and filled with love.

      When Ororo knocked on the door, only a few hours after we'd
      finally drifted to sleep, we each got up and dressed. There was
      a duty to the Dream. Now, holding his pillow to my chest I can't
      bring myself to give a damn for our 'duty'. Wasn't he as
      important to me as duty ever was?

      Maybe if I'd known, I would have refused to leave our bed.
      Refused to let Scott leave my arms. I might have held onto him
      that much tighter, clutching him to my breast. But I didn't
      know. And I didn't refuse to leave. Instead we smiled, ready
      to face whatever challenges awaited us.

      How could either of us have known that within the day he would
      be lost? Struck down in a battle supposedly won?

      The moments it took me to reach him where he lay broken on the
      ground are burned into my mind. The smells and sounds live in my
      brain, and I refuse to let them go. In their own strange way
      they're a link to everything I've lost.

      When I pulled him to me he smiled at me. Dying in my arms and
      he reached up to brushed my hair from my face. I didn't even
      realize I was crying until I saw the tears land on his glove.
      But the feeling of his hand on my cheek . . . That is something
      I hope I never forget.

      He tried to speak, but couldn't. Instead he mouthed three words
      that caused my tears to fall harder. "I love you."

      So I held him closer and whispered the same thing back to him,
      over and over. The faintest smile turned his lips before the
      light of his visor dimmed slowly. The bond we shared - a warmth
      in my mind I never imagined I'd lose - faded and then I knew . . .
      He was gone.

      Holding him tighter, I rocked him both back and forth. I pulled
      the visor from his face, and saw his eyes - once more brown
      instead of red. Closing them with my hand, I kissed his
      forehead. As I did, I continued my whispered mantra. I knew he
      couldn't hear me but it didn't matter. I had to say it.

      It was Logan who found us - seconds, minutes, maybe hours later.
      I don't know. He tried to pull me away from Scott, but I refused.
      I held onto him even tighter. But it was too little, too late.

      Tears threaten even now thinking about it, but I don't want them to
      fall. I don't want to grieve. I'm not convinced I want today to
      end - Scott was still alive today. Tomorrow he will only be dead.

      I don't want to move on. If I do that then he really is gone.
      Then I have to let him go.

      Sitting on our bed, it's as if the room is haunted. The memories
      of us, our last night together and our first, fill this room. I
      took those moments for granted until now - now I know they'll
      never happen again. Is it possible that I was a fool?

      Realizations come quickly. I'm never going to feel his arms
      around me again. I'll never soothe him out of another nightmare.
      Never again will he stroke my hair as we fall asleep after we've
      made love. He can't wipe away my tears now. Maybe that's why I
      so desperately don't want to cry.

      I'm not sure how to live in a world he's not in. In truth I can
      barely remember life before we were here, the five of us training
      to fight for Xavier's dream. The five of us . . . Only three of
      us remain now.

      A sob tries to work its way from my chest, but I fight it. I have
      to be strong. I may not want to give a damn for the dream, but I
      have to. Scott died for it, the least I can do is live for it.
      But it's not for me anymore - it's for him.

      It's strange, sitting here in the dark it's as if Scott is with
      me. I know he isn't - cannot be - but it doesn't change the
      feeling. Like a breeze on the back of your neck or the sensation
      you're being watched. I have to fight the urge to turn and look,
      as if he's just walked through the door after teaching a class or
      talking with the Professor. I close my eyes. He'll never do
      that again.

      I can't see the future, that's not my power. But still part of
      me says I should have known - I should have felt what was going
      to happen. Stopped it, saved him. Then he'd be with me, holding
      me rather than me holding his pillow. Gripping the pillow
      tighter, breathing in the scent of his shampoo, the tears finally
      start to slip free.

      How I wish I'd known.

      I'm startled when there's a knock on my door. I try to wipe the
      tears from my face but don't quite manage it before Bobby sticks
      his head in the room. He looks at me, silent for a long moment,
      waiting for permission to enter.

      The others had come and gone, checking up on me. Xavier, Ororo,
      Hank, Logan . . . I'd sent them all away. Apparently it's
      Bobby's turn. Looking at him for a minute, I realize I don't know
      if I've ever seen him look so serious. Annoying though it may be
      at times, he's always been the one to be there with a smile or a
      joke.

      Something in me doesn't want to send him away, too. I blink and
      nod; he walks inside and closes the door behind him. The youngest
      of the five, though not so young anymore, I still can't help but
      think of him as a little brother - in a way all four of us did,
      especially Scott.

      He walks across the room and sits next to me on the bed. "Hank
      said . . ." He stops, and takes a shaky breath. "I wish I'd
      been there, Jeannie," he says after a long moment of silence. It
      wasn't supposed to be a great battle, just a minor skirmish - or
      so we thought. So while we'd gone on the mission, it had been
      Bobby's turn to stay behind at the mansion with the students.

      I shake my head and speak before I really think about it. "It
      wouldn't have changed anything." I barely recognize my own
      voice, rough and unused. I try not to think about what I've just
      said. Maybe it's true for the others, but it's not for me, part
      of my mind insists.

      Bobby stares at his hands before finally turning to look at me.
      His eyes are red and swollen. "I know what you're thinking, you
      know." He moves closer and wraps his arm around my shoulders.
      I tense at the contact, but finally relax. Leaning close, his
      voice drops to barely a whisper. "It's not your fault, Jeannie."

      "I . . . Maybe if I . . ." He shakes his head and I stop trying
      to force the words together.

      "No. There's no way you could have known." I look up at him
      quickly. How'd he know that was what I was thinking? "You didn't
      do anything wrong."

      I shake my head, denying the absolution. "How do you know? You
      weren't even there." I regret the words as soon as they're out of
      my mouth, but I can't take them back.

      Bobby looks hurt, but only nods. "I know." When he takes a deep
      breath, I can hear the tears he's fighting. We've all been
      friends for so long. "It's no one's fault but the one who . . ."
      he pauses, and I see him blink quickly. "It's not our fault. We
      just have to try and remember that."

      My eyes fill with the tears I keep refusing and my vision blurs.
      Surprising myself, I lay my head on Bobby's shoulder. "I miss him
      so much already."

      I wonder for a moment if he even heard me when he replies. "I know,
      Jeannie. I'm so sorry."

      "I know." I nod, sniffing.

      He wraps his other arm around me, and pulls me into a hug. "Go
      ahead and cry. It's okay." I half expect him to crack a joke,
      but he doesn't. I always knew there was more to him than he let
      anyone see.

      Shaking my head, I reply, "I can't."

      "You have to." He rubs his hand over my hair, and if I close my
      eyes I can almost pretend it's Scott who's holding me. Almost.
      "It doesn't mean you're letting him go, or that you don't love him
      anymore."

      My tears are falling in earnest now, the shoulder of his shirt
      soaked through. "I don't know how to live without him." I'm
      gasping for breath, but finally manage the whispered words.

      Not letting go, I can feel Bobby nod. "I know, Jeannie. But
      you will."

      "Why did he have to go?"

      Bobby doesn't speak, he just holds me tighter as I finally let go
      and cry. There isn't anything else to say.


      End


      Love it? Hate it? Find me at razrbkr@... ~~kaly~~
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