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Jean stared at Ororo, unable to say anything. She just... Couldn’t believe her sister. Suicidal because Charles wanted the best for her? It wasn’t just ungrateful, it was rude! She looked at Scott, trying to gauge his reaction; he was just as still as he was when Ororo first started talking. “Ridiculous.”

Ororo groaned. “I thought you’d say that.”

“Then why did you bother--” Jean trailed off and let out an angry sound. “Ridiculous, Ororo. You’re not making yourself accountable. You’re brushing off everything you did to Charles!”

“What about accepting everything Charles did to me? Weren’t you listening?” Ororo stood and threw out an arm, exasperated. “You’re my sister, Jean, please, listen to me. I know we’re had a strained past, and I’m sorry for that--”

“Are you?” Jean swept close to Ororo. “Are you sorry? Because last I heard, you never once asked about us!” she exclaimed. “Not once. It was always ‘me, me, me.’ You were to busy going out and being a screw up to realize I was still here, waiting on you!” Jean threw her arms up, furious. “I went eight consecutive birthdays, never getting a present, or a card--”

“Of course! The material items for Jean matter most,” said Ororo flippantly.

“No!” Jean warned. “You want me to listen to you, but you’re not going to listen to me? You want a sympathetic ear?- go ask Logan. I wouldn’t put too much stock into his listening skills, though. He’s only fucking you so you won’t kick him out.” Ororo furrowed her brows. “I am your sister. I don’t get the same shitty excuses. I get the real answer. Give me something real,” she demanded. “Did you ever think about us?”

“No,” Ororo answered, her voice hard. “I was tired of thinking about you and Scott. I wanted to focus on myself. It’s the harsh reality, but isn’t that what you wanted?” Ororo sidestepped Jean. “And anyways, do you even hear yourself talk? You’re asking about why I left and you’re still making this about yourself.”

Jean thinned her lips. “How can I not, Ororo? I needed you! I needed you, and you weren’t there!” Jean’s lower lip wobbled and her eyes glassed over. “It hurt,” she whispered. “I grew up knowing you as my closest friend and I come to find out that I didn’t mean a thing to you. I was... A burden.”

Ororo sighed. “You were never a burden, Jean. Yes, there were times were I wished things were different, but I never thought you were a burden.” She squeezed her sister’s shoulder. “You have to put yourself in my shoes. It was never about me, and if it was, it was more about my abilities. So when I finally got away, I was finally able to think about myself. I was tired of it being you first.” Ororo stood up and smoothed her hands down her lap. “If you’ll excuse me.”




His mind was tired. This was the worst day of his life, something that Scott found almost comical. Of all the things that should’ve made the list of a worst day-- a divorce, cheating, death in the family, bankruptcy-- Ororo coming clean made the list. This was ridiculous.

He ran his hands through his hair, looking over at Jean. She finally cried herself to sleep, something Scott was admittedly tired with. He wasn’t the type to be overly emotional, and he wasn’t really a fan of seeing Jean be overly emotional. Sure he liked her warmth, but he just wasn’t good with tears. It wasn’t his area of expertise.

Answers. He needed answers.

Creeping out of his room, he felt determined. There was so much he kept to himself while Ororo and Jean were arguing-- “arguing” wasn’t the right word but it was something-- and he didn’t feel right interrupting. He wished he had, in retrospect. Speaking up probably would have saved him from that dreadful confused feeling he had now.

His gut told him to check out Charles’ office, so that’s were he went. Once he arrived, he pushed the door open.

“Logan?” came a watery voice.

“No, it’s Scott.” Scott stepped inside and closed the door behind himself. “I think Logan’s asleep.”

“Just as well,” she said ruefully. “I should be, too, but...” She sighed and reached under the desk. “I can’t.” She pulled out a bottle and a glass. “Want one? I think it’s whiskey.”

“You think?” Scott asked, mildly concerned. Ororo shrugged, then nodded. “Err... Sure. I’m awake, too.”

She poured a glass and hummed. “You are awake.” She poured another glass then handed it to Scott. “Mind if I drink before you yell at me?”

“I’m not here to yell at you. I got my words in at the kitchen.” He took the glass, murmuring thanks. “I’m pissed at you, so don’t think everything’s cured.”

Ororo sniffed before slamming back her drink. She let out a groan, then sniffed again. “I figured. You’re not the forgiving type.” She poured herself another drink and capped the bottle. “Why are you here, then? If you already got your ‘words’ in.”

“Because I just don’t understand. You claimed you loved-- love,” Scott corrected, “Jean and yet...” He waved his drink around, “You haven’t proved it.”

“How do you even prove you love someone? Sending them gifts and cards?” Ororo scoffed. “It’s much more complicated when you yourself don’t know what love really feels like.” They fell silent, sipping their drinks. “I sometimes tell myself I’m strong,” Ororo said softly.

“Strong?” Scott asked.

Ororo hummed. “For so long-- while I was here and... away,” Scott nodded, “I told myself I was strong. I didn’t need to tell anyone about my painful past, about how I grew up too quickly. And anyways, no one saw past the surface.”

Scott rubbed his eyebrow with his thumb, listening. “Jean is really trying to understand, Ororo. She wasn’t trying to make it about herself.” Ororo scoffed. “What?”

“You really are a great man, Scott. You’ll go down with Jean no matter what.”

Scott deflated. “I wasn’t trying to appear weak.”

“Scott, you’re anything but weak. It takes real strength to have a drink with someone you consider your enemy.”

Scott chuckled. “You are many things, but never my enemy. I’m pissed at you, but I don’t hate you.” He took a sip. “So, uh... You and Logan?”

Ororo breathed a laugh. “It’s,” she looked down and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, “complicated. I think we just like what we can do for each other. And I don’t have the heart to make someone homeless.” Scott nodded. “Would he really be homeless without this place?” Again, Scott nodded. “Wow, talk about pressure.”

“Well, Logan was sort of the first.”

The first? “Of what?”

Scott felt a smile spread across his face. This was what he wanted when he first confronted her at the pool.

He would never presume, but maybe the old Ororo was still there.





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