Scott recognized instantly where he was now. The suite Warren had rented in the Waldorf-Astoria. The whole thing was burnt into his memory. The first time Jean had come back to him. It was almost disturbing how much he remembered. He let himself be led to the room, let himself go into it, and there she was. As sweet and innocent as she'd been before the Phoenix, like that was just a mistake, a mirage. She went to him, she kissed him, and he let himself be kissed.
It wasn't hard to play along now. Jean expected him to be numb; he had been the first time around. And she couldn't sense his thoughts... Some psychosomatic result of her time as the Phoenix, pretending that hadn't been her. She blamed it on the pod she'd supposedly been in. They all blamed so many things on...
This was the moment, the tempting moment when he'd thought it could all be got back, or no, that all the mistakes could be washed away. His failure as team leader, his crumbling marriage, none of it seemed to matter when he had Jean. God, they really were in a vicious cycle. He remembered the sickening recurrence of that feeling when Hank had brought the teenage Jean forward in time. Like tasting an old meal as you vomited.
He tried to see if he could go along with it this time. Be the team leader again, be Jean's man again. It'd been so tempting to take it, that first time. And he had. He was only human.
But he'd been trained to be more.
"Jean," he said, feeling the train track of the past being ripped up, the old lies derailing. "There's something I have to tell you."
***
No X-Factor, at least not yet. He knew Rusty was in trouble, but Beast and Iceman and Angel could handle that. And he had to get back. He had to play something out, settle some question... it was almost ghoulish, the desire to see what would happen if he'd been honest.
Jean was silent. Of course she'd wanted to come with him. Despite everything, they were friends. More than that. He thought there was a kind of symbiosis between them, at this point. Whether they loved each other, hated each other, they were soulmates.
She just didn't say anything.
He hoped the way she looked at him was enough for her.
The Phoenix, on the other hand, was anything but silent. "You were supposed to be fuck her."
Scott ignored the other Jean, older but not wiser. He kept his plane in good condition, but he still didn't quite trust it, not after his parents. He attended to it fixatedly as he made the flight to Anchorage.
"She would've let you. She was gagging for it. It would've been great!"
"I'm married," Scott replied plainly.
Phoenix looked like she wanted to slap her forehead. "To me! Us!"
"Not right now."
"Oh, to my clone?"
"She doesn't know she's a clone yet..."
"Well, as long as you plan to fuck one of us—" Phoenix said sarcastically.
"She was never bad. Just a pawn in Sinister's schemes. And if I had treated her better..."
"This isn't old home week. You have a mission,
hubby."
"This is the way I'm doing things."
Phoenix banged her head against the hull, such as she could while being intangible. "You can't just hit do-over on the timeline, it doesn't work like that..."
"Really? I thought that's exactly what we were doing."
"Little changes! Into big changes! For important things!"
"Madelyne's important to me."
"Could've fooled me."
"I know. So I'll show you."
"And you really think me—
any
me—is going to be happy about you coming home with your old dead girlfriend in tow?"
"She's the mother of my child," Scott insisted. "If I had just been better then, maybe... you have to let me have this. I already told Jean I was married, I didn't do that before. Now I'll go back to Madelyne and tell her about Jean..."
"And what? You'll lead X-Factor with Madelyne as a happy homemaker? Let Jean get together with
Logan?"
"I don't know. I don't care. No more planning. I'm just going to be a good husband."
The Phoenix turned almost sympathetic. Almost Jean. "You can't stay."
"Give me one day. Let me see what happens. Please."
The Phoenix darkened, leaning back in her seat. She was right next to Jean, the other Jean.
She'd
fallen asleep.
Scott wondered if she was dreaming of who she'd turn into.
"You're not the only player in the game, Scott," the Phoenix said. "Just because I like you doesn't mean I can protect you."
***
The old melancholy. It was almost sweet.
Scott stood on the patio, leaning on the wooden handrail he'd built with his own two hands, staring out at the Alaskan mountains, the waters of the lake where he'd landed the seaplane. He wondered if some of that water had once been in the Gulf of Mexico where the Arcadia had fished, or Jamaica Bay where Jean had died and been reborn and been born again.
Madelyne had taken it well. Or she had taken it, at least, which he didn't think many women could. After he'd explained everything, she'd understood why Jean was there. Understood that he was Jean's bedrock, as much as she was his, and that whether friends or lovers, Jean was having a rough time coming back to life and would be better off with someone she was used to. And at the end of the day, that seemed to be her and Scott's relationship. They were as used to each other as two people could be.
Madelyne had gotten Jean situated, not Scott. Probably wanted to feel her out. Probably didn't want Scott around her more than necessary. So Scott leaned and thought about water. Thought of the dark clouds cresting the mountains, coming their way. It would rain tonight.
Maybe some of that water would be familiar.
He heard the patio door slide open behind him. "She likes the guest room," Madelyne said. "Told you we did a good job furnishing it... Is she why you've been acting so distant lately?"
"No. I just found out. I've been acting distant because... you're right. I lost the X-Men to Storm and felt like I settled for this. I'm sorry. I forgot how lucky I am." Scott turned around and looked at her. He wished she didn't remind him of Jean. He wished she didn't remind him of the Goblyn Queen, wished he could look at her and just see his first wife, the mother of his child, someone who loved him. "I'm not going to leave you," he said, wishing it were a promise.
"I'm not worried about that. I'm worried about my husband and I want to know you're okay." She went to him. "I can't imagine what you're going through... wounds haven't even healed and they're being ripped open again—"
"I am healed. You healed me. This is just..." Scott shook his head.
"You don't have to reassure me, Scott. I trust you. You're a good man. You're not going to leave a woman who loves you as much as I do."
Scott held onto her like it would kill him to let go.
***
It was a big storm that night. Rain that remembered being glaciers, sleet, pressing down on the house in peaks and crests, like a giant hand pressing down, then letting up. Lightning lit the windows bright blue, and thunder rattled the walls, stirring the shutters and curtains into little aftershocks. In bed, Madelyne instinctively curled closer to Scott, then grinned at her own fright. Scott grinned back. She dropped her jaw in a smile that wasn't afraid to be foolish.
"Baby's asleep still," she said, glancing at the baby monitor, something beautiful in her strong profile, her prettiness in the distracted moment, the gracious way she wore something as simple as one of his old shirts, the holey hem falling almost to her knees.
"We're raising a coma patient," Scott agreed.
"Nah. Just the strong, silent type. He gets it from his old man."
Still, Scott couldn't stop thinking. How long would it last? How long?
Lightning crashed again, the thunder close, grinding into the sound of hinges as the door opened. Jean was there, gray in the dead light, but her hair a flaming red, pushing out against the darkness. Scott looked over at her and Madelyne looked over at her and she suddenly didn't seem a saint or a goddess or a martyr, but scared and embarrassed.
"I'm so sorry, I wasn't thinking... I was just, the lightning, and I always used to talk to Scott when I was scared..."
She started to go, flee, and Madelyne stopped her, sitting up over Scott's body. "From what he told me, you didn't seem like the type to get scared."
Jean paused, listening as Scott explained. "It was the nighttime. Jean's psychic conditioning wasn't as strong then." He hated how
fond
he sounded, how that was just the shape his mouth took around her name. "When people have nightmares, it's more intense than good dreams, so if a lot of people have nightmares, she would pick up on them. Like radio signals. And she knew I'd always be up..."
"That was a long time ago," Jean said suddenly, a decisive end to the conversation. "I shouldn't expect—"
"What?" Madelyne interrupted herself, so alike to Jean in that moment that it could've burnt Scott. "To get some sympathy when you're scared and traumatized? To have an old friend care about you? Or an old friend's wife?"
Jean laughed, a little hysterical, and Scott could hear the Phoenix laughing too. And she, it, had been so quiet... "I was going to crawl into bed with him, Maddie. Just because that's what I always did..."
"What's changed?"
Scott looked at Madelyne, surprised, not shocked. All the things he remembered and he'd forgotten how caring she was.
"It's a big bed," Madelyne said. "And if you don't want to be alone..."
"A little old for sleepovers, aren't we?"
"Scott, tell her," Madelyne said. "I'll show you two I'm not jealous and you can show me I don't have anything to be worried about."
Lighting dropped again, thunder like an explosion. Jean jumped a little. Madelyne clutched Scott tighter.
