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AUTHOR'S NOTE: Sorry, everyone. The semester is so close to being done and I will finally be able to update like a regular person in the summer. Also-- THANK YOU MARBLES. I was losing my direction and hadn't even realized I didn't mention how Charles died. There's also a break-- one with Scott and Logan and one with Ororo and Jean. If it's confusing, let me know and I'll fix it.



Ororo examined a glass beaker, trying to figure out what was going on down here. There were beakers, cylinders, a Bunsen burner, scales, an examination table, several monitors, a computer, plastic tubes, and boxes. It looked like an abandoned lab... Had someone been experimenting down here, she wondered.

A chill ran up her spine at the implication. In all honesty, it looked like a failed set for a bad horror movie. And if it wasn't meant for a horror movie, then maybe for some unethical scientist. If someone was experimenting down here, who was the lab rat? Who was the "scientist"?

Wasn't Jean a doctor?

Ororo gently put down the test tube she'd been holding. If there was one thing Ororo hated, it was doctors' offices. When she was young, Charles was worried about her white hair. He'd sent her to more than a handful of specialists, trying to prove there was something wrong with her. Of course, they proved there was nothing "medically" wrong with her, but the specialists only came to the conclusion after all their needling and prodding and...

With a deep breath, she closed her eyes. It did nothing to dwell on the past.

"What are you doing down here?" Ororo gasped and turned around. "How'd you find this place?"

Ororo bit her inner cheek, debating as to whether or not she wanted to answer Jean's question. (What would she say?-- "oh well, your husband caught me screwing your paramour by the pool?" Yeah, right.) "I was just," Ororo shrugged, "looking around the lower levels."

Jean squinted at Ororo and walked up to the table with all the beakers on it. "Hm," Jean scoffed. She dusted away some invisible dirt with the flat of her hand. "You know Logan doesn't like coming in here."

"How could I know that?" Ororo spat nastily.

"Because Scott told me he caught you two." Ororo groaned without meaning to. "Ashamed?"

"Of being caught? Yes." Ororo folded her arms to her chest. "What is going on down here, Jean?" After receiving no response, Ororo repeated her question. "Well? This is my house! I should know--"

"It was for Charles." Jean put down a beaker and picked another up, examining the glass for cracks. When satisfied with finding none-- and for shutting Ororo up-- she bent at the waist to pick up an empty cardboard box. "When he got sick, he sort of... lost his mind." Jean stilled for a moment; she hated her memories of the last days. And... if she were being honest... she wished they never happened. Sometimes it was better for someone to die quickly. She and Scott could've worked out the will on their own.

A soft hand on her elbow broke Jean out of her reverie. "Jean?"

Jean pulled away as if burned. "What?"

"What were you doing down here?" Ororo asked softly.

"Charles wanted home care. We did what we could for as long as we could but eventually--"

"'We'?" Ororo asked, her brows furrowed.

"Me, Scott, Logan, Hank McCoy," Jean stated.

"Hank was here?" murmured Ororo.

"Mm," Jean nodded. "Eventually the disease won out. It just... Ate away at him," Jean spat, disgusted with the memory. Charles really did fall apart. The great man turned into basically nothing at the end.

"I," Ororo shook her head and licked her lower lip, "thought he died from heart failure."

Jean faced Ororo, slightly angered. "Did you even know about anything else? How thoroughly did you read the coroner's report?"

"I read the death certificate," Ororo said defensively.

Jean let out a bark of laughter. "The death certificate! That's it, right?" She didn't wait for a response. "Might as well, right? Considering how you didn't even go to the funeral. Have you even visited his grave?" Ororo looked down, ashamed. "No, I figured you hadn't. And why should you? Suffering always..."

"Oh, whatever, Jean!" Ororo balled her fists and glared at Jean. "You don't know shit--"

"I know Charles waited to die because he wanted to see you. You, his prodigal child who didn't give a damn about anyone but themselves!" Jean shouted.

"You don't even know the half of it, Jean! Why don't you just shut the hell--"



Scott groaned and shook his head back and forth. This year was a goddamn nightmare. How could it possibly get worse?

"Scott! Open the door!" pounded Logan.

"Go the fu--"

"Jean and Roro are 'bout to get into a fight in the lower levels."

In a heartbeat, Scott had the door open and was following behind Logan.



"What even made you come back, Ororo? You were obviously doing so well away from everyone else," spat Jean. "Answer me!"

"Why should I answer you? Huh? I'm sure you've come up with more than one possible solution," snipped Ororo.

"I don't care about what I think! I want to hear the truth." Jean stepped close to Ororo, more than ready to press her nose to Ororo's if it came to it. Jean knew about Ororo's "boundary issues." Jean narrowed her eyes. "Answer. Me."

"You don't deserve an explanation. All that matters is that I came back," Ororo parried. "Isn't that what you always wanted? Charles wrote to me--"

"Don't you dare say his name!"

"--telling me how you and Scott acted like helpless puppies, waiting for me to come back and take care of everything! Like always," snarled Ororo.

"If you always took care of everything, why weren't you here to take care of Charles?" hissed Jean.

"Consider it reciprocity," said Ororo coolly. Jean fell silent, her face paling. "Tell me, Jean, how bad did it get? Charles suffered, but did you?"

Jean pulled her arm back, ready to slap Ororo when Logan swept in and jerked Ororo away. Scott dove in and wrapped his arms around Jean's small body.

"Let go of me Scott!" shouted Jean.

"What are you-- mphf!" Ororo mumbled, Logan's hand covering her mouth.

"Sh, darlin', you've said enough."





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