Afterburn

Posted on Wed Apr 9th, 2025 @ 9:44pm by Scott Summers & Jean Grey

3,356 words; about a 17 minute read

Mission: Episode 6: X-Fernus Agenda
Location: Baxter Building | Manhattan
Timeline: December 12th, 1990

The X-Factor main condo was silent.

Outside the sky hung gray, overcast with the wintry gloom of a world plummeting to the depths of December. Even at Christmastime in New York, so far from Genosha, the air held a tension like the world itself hadn’t recovered from the scream of the Phoenix.

Inside the condo, the walls offered no comfort.

Scott sat on the edge of the couch, elbows braced against his knees, head lowered, hands clasped so tight his knuckles were white. His ruby-quartz glasses reflected only the blank light from the TV screen, muted and playing some forgotten news cycle neither of them had truly watched in hours.

Jean sat opposite him, legs tucked under her on the armchair, a blanket around her shoulders like it was the only shield she had left as she sipped on long cold tea. She hadn’t said a word since they entered the apartment either. She didn’t need to. His thoughts had poured through her mind like cracked dam water, broken and relentless.

Shame. Regret. Rage. Loss. Guilt.

So much guilt.

She never pressed. Never intruded deeper than what was already leaking through. But she felt him. And that was enough.

The silence between them wasn’t cold, but it was bruised.

Then, sometime mid-morning on the second day after their return home, Scott finally spoke.

His voice was hoarse, like it hadn’t been used in years. “I should’ve stopped her. Back on Muir. Before any of this started.”

A pause. Not just for breath—but for the weight of the admission. He didn’t look up. Couldn’t.

“Aurora... what we did... It was a mistake. I knew it then. I knew. But I still let her in.” He shook his head in sullen regret. “I thought I could manage this co-parenting thing. Like everything else, I could figure it out, make it work for everyone, find a way through. But now Alex is gone, Genosha’s gone, Christopher’s gone… and I keep thinking, if I hadn’t let Aurora run off with Sinister…”

He trailed off, choking on words too jagged to say aloud.

Outside a siren wailed faintly in the distance. Its haunting refrain made the air inside feel even tighter. He still couldn’t look at Jean. Couldn’t bear to see encouragement—or worse, understanding—in her eyes. Because he didn’t think he deserved either. Somehow his penance would make everything right. It had to. There was… nothing left to try.

“Hindsight can make a lot of choices obvious, so can a shift in perspective.” Jean set down her mug of tea, grateful that Scott was finally wanting to talk. She would always give him the patience and the grace he needed when processing his feelings. Silence was both a gift and a curse for Scott, he needed it but also succumbed to it.

So when he was finally wanting to speak, it was a change that Jean welcomed because she knew she could guide him through whatever dark places the silence brought. “You didn’t know, Scott… you didn’t know what she was capable of doing and no one knew what Alex had become. It’s easy to blame yourself after the fact… but at the time, you were doing what you thought was best.”

“That obviously wasn’t good enough,” Scott retorted, his tone more harsh than he’d intended. His bitter rumination was meant for him alone, not for sweet Jean. “Was it?” His tone softened a bit, an attempt to pull the venom out of what had unintentionally splashed at her. “What I thought was best turned out to be so terrible that there might be no fixing it. All those people… and my flesh and blood… all of that could’ve been prevented if only…”

“Stop.” Jean’s tone became firm as she refused to listen to his false claims of failure. She wouldn’t sit by and watch him destroy himself, especially for things outside of his control. “You can’t do that to yourself, you can’t sit here and think about everything that could have changed the events of our lives. It will eat you from the inside out if you let it.”

She huffed out a sigh in protest and Scott felt her pain for everything that had happened but more importantly he felt her deep and genuine conviction for the choices he had made. Jean believed in him and in what he could do and despite his personal views of his shortcomings, it was obvious Jean felt differently.

“Today is no different, we face this loss like we would any other hardship in our lives,” Jean said while reaching out and placing a hand over his.

“Okay.” Scott quit arguing. That also meant he quit fighting. His resilience had reached its end and he had no more left. He let Jean’s hand rest atop his own for a moment before he threw himself at her and tucked his face into her shoulder.

“I’m sorry you’ve suffered so much loss.” She cradled him to her as her own heart broke. Sometimes it felt like fate was toying with him in a cruel and relentless manner. “You don’t deserve that.”

And then he wept. There was so much loss faced by both of them. Alex may have been his brother, but Jean had been part of welcoming him to the X-Mansion and making him part of the group. Despite the act of infidelity which conceived him, Christopher held a special place in Jean’s heart that Scott had no right to ask of her and yet she’d freely given anyway. And the multitudes who perished or worse on Genosha were better known to Jean than to him. That fact turned his grief away from the insular crushing weight to the shared burden that should have been theirs to carry all along.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered. “You’ve.. You’ve…~

Scott’s weeping washed out his words. ~You have carried so much alone. I’m sorry. I should’ve shouldered it with you. Together. The Phoenix. I’m glad She didn’t take you from me again~

It was a little melodramatic but understandably so. Jean had scorched Krakoa last Summer Solstice when the last mission of the First Class went so horribly wrong. And then when he had blindly stumbled back into it months later with the help of a former adversary, the Phoenix had done it again. Now Genosha lay in smoldering heaps, flattened like a nuclear blast that shut closed the gates of Limbo but at great cost. Scott had brought Jean home in dire need of rest, but she regained her strength in short order. It turned out to be him who was running on empty. Or at least that was what Jean had allowed.

“I am not alone.” Jean reached out and stroked his hair in that comforting manner that had a way of making Scott feel like he was home. “You are always by my side and when one of us falters the other holds us together.”

“Together…” Scott croaked once his sobbing began to subside. “That’s what we are. That’s how we’re going to be. Everything…” All the grief welled up again, but Scott didn’t sink underneath its weight. He held fast to Jean. “... we’ll face it together.”

She hugged him tightly as if to punctuate his statement with the emotions that flowed between them. “We will do this together, we will face this all one day at a time.”

Jean cradled his psyche in her own and he felt the warm, safe space her presence provided. She would always be his lifeline, his anchor and reminder to find the good in today and to continue to hope for a better tomorrow.

“I am sad and scared too,” she confessed as they held onto one another. “But you and I are the creators of our own destiny, when life knocks us down we have to remember we are in control and we can do so much more when we are together.”

There had been so much loss and heartache this year. It was no wonder that they crumbled and cried from everything that had happened. “What is something you want for yourself? What is something we can do to shape our future?”

The question made Scott shrug, not because he was disinterested but because the question forced him to access other parts of his mind besides the pit of despair he'd formed for himself.

Jean paused for a breath but then continued, “I’ll go first. I want us to still get married. Our wedding has been a bright and exciting spot for me during some very dark times. I don’t want to cancel or postpone it, we could all use a true celebration.”

When Jean first mentioned their wedding, a crack formed in Scott's visage. The eternal optimism that Jean brought to every situation cut through his gloom like a hot knife through butter. By the time she described it as a true celebration, Scott even managed a slight half smile.

“You know, that sounds really great,” he said. “Can I have some of yours? I'll share mine when I think of one.” Beneath the casual exterior was a powerful truth. There was nothing Scott wanted more, at that moment or any other, than what Jean has described

“You’re supposed to find another one, not just enjoy the one I suggested.” Jean chuckled a little at his comment as they worked together to clear away his gloom. “There are more things you want for yourself, for us. I want you to be excited about something hopeful and optimistic.”

“But you stole mine!” Scott protested, his outcry belying the cheer that grew beneath his exterior. “Fine. I want a flashy car. Maybe a Porsche or an Audi. I already have my Bond Girl. Why not have the car to match?”

It was such a silly thing to say. Scott was the least ostentatious out of everyone who grew up at Xavier's and that had been part of his charm. No nonsense. All plan and action. Yet there was a side to him that nobody else got to see except for Jean. His playful frivolity was part of that.

Brow arched above his ruby-quartz frames, he said, “Keep trying?”

“You have been drooling over Warren’s new sports car, which he just dumped in the garage before leaving for Chicago. I’m sure we can find you a convertible to sit in during city traffic jams.” Jean couldn’t help but smile at his comments. After days of sorrow and tears it was nice to those arched brows and that playful candor returning to his tone. “But yes, keep trying.”

After a moment’s consideration, he said, “I want to keep working on the baby's room. Maybe we'll find Christopher, maybe we won't. But I won't let that uncertainty rob us of everything the nursery represents. Our hope for a future together, the start of our family and long life together.”

It was a thing that seemed so small and yet contained so much nuance, so many mixed feelings. As a practical step, though, it didn't get more hands on. Many people kept a departed loved one’s room the same as it always was, but this was a step forward in fighting against the defeatist uncertainty that currently surrounded the Summers family. There was a light at the end of the tunnel and Scott wouldn't let it go.

“It wasn't for nothing,” Scott added. “No matter what, we'll always know that because finishing the baby's room will help us remember it.”

“A baby’s room for a baby that might never come home.” For all of her positivity, there was deep pain in her voice. Out of everything that had happened to them, Christopher was the hardest loss. “I don’t know if I can, Scott...”

Jean leaned back in her chair so she could glance down the darkened hallway. The shut door at the end of the hall was to Christopher’s bedroom. When they came home, she couldn’t bear to look in on the empty crib and still packed baby supplies. Yet at the same time, she couldn’t bring herself to ask Bobby and Pietro to take the room down. There was a lot of hope in Scott’s request, not just for the child that was missing but for them to take the next leap forward.

“…You saw what lurks inside of me, such power and devastation. What if I’m dangerous? What if I become a hazard?” She shook her head in disapproval, “I’m scared of hurting people, especially a child.”

Nodding slowly in understanding, Scott didn’t argue right away. Instead he looked for a way to acknowledge her fears while not caving into them. “Devastating power is a terrible burden, you’re right. Being a constant potential hazard means the people you love and those who love you can be threatened just by you being around.”

A pause. Scott let the obvious point that he could be talking about himself as much as Jean hang in the air a moment before continuing.

“But the people we love inspire us and add their strength to our own. Being alone doesn't save anybody. It only weakens us all.” He kissed the back of her hand and held his lips there while he looked up at her. The rims of his glasses angled downward to where she could almost make out his eyes beneath his eyebrows. “I'm not scared of you or the Phoenix any more than you're scared of me or what or wherever my optic blasts come from. Let me be your strength just like you've been mine.”

Jean nodded her head in agreement as she shut her eyes thanks to the surge of emotions that overwhelmed her. How could someone be scared of something they wanted so badly? A few stray tears ran down her cheeks as she took a slow, calming breath.

“I was so excited for Christopher, I know he wasn’t mine but… I really wanted him in our lives.” Jean wiped away her tears as she worked up the nerve to say what they were both thinking, instead of saying the obvious desire for them to have a child of their own she jumped ahead in the conversation. “I want a normal doctor and delivery in a New York hospital. No trips to Muir, no examinations or contemplations over whether or not they are a mutant. I want them to have play dates in the park and friends at public school, a normal childhood without any looming possibility of what they should or could be. If one day they do have the x-gene, we’ll deal with it then but not before.”

Scott gave a mirthless smile. There was no guarantee that Jean could even have children. What with the ordeal she suffered under the hands of Sinister, Moreau, and countless others while imprisoned on Krakoa, the odds weren't in their favor.

“I agree with you there,” he said at length. “Normalcy is the gift we can give as parents that we ourselves never had.”

The fact that they might never be parents was inconsequential. That decision to deliver a Leave It to Beaver childhood to any and all children they would ever have spoke to the despair which overshadowed them. Even if the world turned crazy, they could spare their children that scrutiny and hardship…at least as far as they were able.

“Now we just have to get you in to see a doctor…” They'd agreed at Thanksgiving that Jean would set an appointment in her own time whenever she felt ready. Scott hoped that would be soon. “No pressure.”

“I’ll call first thing tomorrow,” Jean replied with a degree of dedication he hadn’t heard when this conversation was previously broached, she was no longer avoiding it or placating his concerns. A lot had changed for them since Genosha, in the blink of an eye their long term plans had once again changed. But the factor that always remained was that nothing was promised and if they wanted these things for themselves they shouldn’t wait because it could all be taken away in a single horrible moment. The prospect of Christopher had brought that want to the surface, they had come so close having something they both truly wanted.

“So we finish the baby’s room…” Jean returned to his original request. “If not for Christopher then for our own child.” Scott was skeptical about Jean’s health but then again he was always the pessimist. One couldn’t be disappointed if they expected the worst. “A wedding, a honeymoon, and a baby.” They were such mundane wants but at the same time felt so incredibly important, she couldn’t help but smile a little at the possibilities that were being discussed, the life they had dreamed about since they were starry-eyed teenagers. “And I’m sure we can sneak in a sports car along the way.”

“Sounds like a plan.” Scott let out a chuckle followed by a contented sigh. There was a way that Jean always knew how to make light of all the right things while giving proper attention to what mattered all in one smooth stroke. And he loved her for it. Spinning tops looked easy to the outside observer but it was a different story to do it. Jean did that with conflicting emotions and made it seem effortless.

“And I’m good with that order too. Always need priorities.” He rubbed his hand in gentle circles between her shoulder blades, a gesture that comforted them both in its way. “Thank you for bringing me out of my funk.”

“You have every right to be in a funk,” Jean said while tightly squeezing him. “This has been the hardest year of our lives. We have faced more than our fair share of adversity but never as personal as this has been.”

She let go of him and leaned back a bit so she could see his face. Behind his ruby lenses Jean was sure his eyes were puffy and bloodshot of the sheer amount of tears that had been shed. Scott had been isolated, manipulated, exploited, and abused by Sinister thanks to whatever master plan the villain had been executing on. But they had stopped him, pushing back against any attempts to thwart them but it had cost them a lot. None of this felt like a victory but there was newfound peace.

“I can’t help but feel a sense of closure over a lot of terrible and painful things. I wouldn’t consider many of the events to be happy endings but some really hard questions have been answered.” Jean reached out and stroked his tear stained cheek, her touch tender and comforting. “Mind you, new questions have developed and I’m sure they too will take time and sacrifice to answer but there are some areas where I finally feel better about things…”

She paused for a moment and let Scott feel her emotions, that faint nagging pain of why had been answered and her love felt unbridled and free. “I know weddings are often seen as starting new chapters in one’s life, but I really feel it now. We’ve survived.”

“We did more than that…” Scott trailed off for a moment as his thousand yard stare faded away. When he looked at Jean, his mind was more clear than it had been in days. “We overcame.”

He gave her hand a reassuring squeeze in response to the waves of love that flowed over him. Whatever the future held, he wasn't afraid. No matter the hardship or adversity, it would only bring them closer in the end. Such was their commitment to each other. “Bring on the rest.”

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