Chapter Text
HEART-TO-HEART
T - 7 MONTHS
“Rogue, wait,” Jean said, hurrying after her as she exited the danger room with her squad of sweaty teenagers.
Rogue wanted nothing less than to wait and talk to Jean fucking Grey so she pretended as if she didn’t hear her. “Everyone circle up,” she said instead, and Jean hung back, to her relief. The kids gathered around her. “Jamie, it’s good that you’re taking on more responsibility, but your teammates all have minds of their own. You don’t need to micromanage them.”
“Okay,” he said, ducking his head sheepishly. “Sorry, guys.”
“Pff,” Amara scoffed, waving a dismissive hand. “Don’t worry about it. It’s not your fault Danielle won’t listen to your ideas.”
Danielle squawked indignantly and Rogue interjected, “We’re a team, before anything else, right?” She was answered with a chorus of agreement. “So, when someone is put in charge–” she gestured to Jamie– “It’s up to the rest of us to listen to them. I don’t only listen to Scott or the Professor because I like ‘em, I listen to ‘em because I trust ‘em as leaders.”
“But you do like them, right?” Amara asked, and Rogue was suddenly keenly aware of Jean’s presence over her right shoulder.
“Yeah, I do,” Rogue said.
“Scott’s kinda scary,” Jamie admitted, and Danielle rolled her eyes.
“He’s a lot,” Rogue agreed. “But he’s a very good leader, and he’d never do anything to hurt you or anyone else here. He’d rather die.”
She looked between the trio, making notes in her head to pass on to the Professor about their progress. “Alright,” she said. “That’s enough for the day. Y’all smell like three-day-old mac’n’cheese. Go shower.”
They ran off, and Rogue, ignoring Jean, strode off to the elevator. She had a shower waiting, too. Not to mention a change of clothes. Her uniform probably smelled worse than she did. She’d been right there on the floor with them, observing. Idly wondering at Jamie’s aptitude for leadership and Danielle’s independent spirit, she tapped the button at the elevator.
“Hey,” Jean said, sidling up next to her. “That was some good teaching. You’re a natural.”
Rogue viewed her with a wary eye. Her face was as perfectly made up as usual, not a strand of hair out of place, but something manic lived in her eyes that Rogue couldn’t quite identify. She wasn’t a mind reader.
She idly calmed herself, knowing well that telepaths could pick up stray thoughts even if they weren’t intentionally projected. Not that she even trusted Jean not to read her mind.
“Thanks,” she replied, because while there was no love lost between them, Rogue was not an inherently petty person. The door to the elevator slid open and she slipped inside, Jean following in her wake.
“So,” Jean said, awkward and drawn out, as the door closed.
“What floor are you going to?” Rogue asked before she could finish.
“Uh, look, I don’t need the elevator,” Jean confessed. “I need to ask you something.”
Shocker.
“I reserve the right not to answer,” Rogue replied with crossed arms and a raised brow, because she didn’t like Jean and didn’t want to have this conversation. Especially if it was the conversation she thought it was.
Jean was silent for a few moments. “Kitty said Scott was supposed to call you but missed it.”
Rogue silently vowed to throw Kitty out a window.
“Yeah,” Rogue said. “What about it?”
Okay, maybe she was being a little petty. They had spoken just this morning, and Scott was hungover and maudlin but otherwise okay. Her traitorous cheeks heated at the memory of his voice in her ear about his experience with Mardi Gras, the fight, the atmosphere, and her surprise.
“Why aren’t you more concerned about this?” Jean demanded, fisting her hands in her perfect hair. “For all we know, he could have crashed his car and died! ”
“Phoenix,” Rogue barked in her best impression of Cyclops, and given that she quite literally remembered his life, her impression was very good. Jean jerked, her attention appearing on her face before she realized she’d been duped. “Jean,” Rogue continued, softer, “Relax. I talked to him this morning.”
“And– and he’s okay?” she asked.
“He’s hungover,” Rogue said. “That’s it.”
Jean let out an exhausted breath and ran a hand through her hair, and Rogue remembered that mannerism because Scott remembered that mannerism. He’d picked it up from her, and the memory of her calling him on it had been fond.
“Sorry,” Jean said. “I just don’t know what I’d do with myself if he just didn’t come back. Especially with how we left things.”
“That ain’t a surprise,” Rogue said, because she didn’t know when to close her goddamn mouth.
“Excuse me?” Jean said. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Nevermind.” Rogue tried to backtrack, even through gritted teeth. “Shouldn’t have said anything.”
“No, really,” Jean insisted, and Rogue could tell she wasn’t getting out of this. “I will stop this elevator.”
“And I’ll knock you the fuck out, how ‘bout that?” Rogue said, tugging on the hem of her right glove as red-hot anger surged in her chest. “Ain’t none of your business what I think or what I know.”
Jean spread her hands wide, placatingly. “I’m sorry, that was excessive. I don’t want to– to trap you or anything, I’m just frustrated. And worried.”
Rogue eyed Jean, her eyes flitting across her face. Rogue’s first interaction with the X-men had been a mix of the real thing and Mystique’s many faces as she slandered them in a hail of violence. The real Jean had given her a communicator. The fake one had tried to kill her. It had gone like that all night; she’d meet a person who showed her kindness and then that same person would attempt to end her life.
After the fact, in the halls of the high school and even outside it, Scott had been the only one to offer her any help. The others weren’t callous or cruel, they were just absent. Rogue’s rivalry with Jean had only started once they were forced to cohabitate in the same space, and it became abundantly clear that Jean was a perfect, prim and proper princess who could do no wrong, and Rogue seemed to be unable to do anything right. She found her tribe eventually, but some days it felt like she lived perpetually in Jean Grey’s shadow, long as it was, and the only way to escape it was to escape her .
“We’re all worried,” Rogue said.
“You more than most, I think,” Jean replied. “You and I.”
Rogue had never enjoyed being compared to anyone else, least of all Jean fucking Grey . She scowled and turned away, leaning on the wall. She was grateful to whoever had designed her uniform that it came with a blast vest, serving in this case as a barrier between her back and the cold steel.
Jean was silent too, just for a short while, before she said, “I know about your crush on Scott,” and Rogue tensed like she was about to be dropped into a battle.
Likely because she was.
“I know you’ve been–” she waved both hands to demonstrate her impotent point– “Interested. In him. For a while.”
Her speech, staccato like weapons fire, did not endear her any to Rogue, who was in the process of revisiting her mental defenses, shoring them up even past their original capacity.
“I know you love him,” she continued, “Not because I read your mind. I– I’ve never done that. But I don’t have to, it’s plain to see, and I definitely don’t– I don’t blame you or– I talked to Kitty–”
“Oh, so you and Kitty are talkin’ about me behind my back?!” Rogue growled, shooting to her feet. “I am gonna teach that girl a lesson in shuttin’ the hell up .”
“No!” Jean shouted, and it reverberated in the small space. “We don’t–”
The doors opened to reveal Warren and Ororo standing outside. Rogue saw them each blink in unison and take in the scene: herself, sweaty and flushed and angry, across from Jean, who looked about ten seconds from either bursting into tears or spilling the contents of her stomach all over the Professor’s wood tiling.
“Is–” Warren started, before shaking his head. “This seems like a bad time.”
“Definitely a bad time,” Ororo agreed. “We can take the stairs.”
The pair turned and left, and the doors closed again. Rogue could feel the tension in the air reflected in the line of her shoulders, and Jean still looked pale and fishlike. They were silent for a long, painful moment.
“We don’t talk badly about you behind your back,” Jean said. “I already knew how you felt about Scott. I could see it every time you looked at him.”
“I–” Rogue trailed off for a moment before she regained her nerve– “I shouldn’t have assumed.”
“It’s alright.”
“Kitty’s a good friend, even if she is a gossip whore,” Rogue grunted, leaning against the wall again. “She wouldn’t reveal somethin’ like that. Not to you.” Rogue didn’t look at Jean. “No offense.”
“None taken,” Jean replied with a world weary sigh. She leaned against the wall, too, and slid down to the floor. “God, it feels like we’re still teenagers sometimes.”
“Some of us are ,” Rogue replied. “Kitty just turned twenty, for cryin’ out loud.”
They were quiet again, Jean sitting and Rogue leaning, before Jean continued, “I don’t know what I ever did to you that made you so mad at me, but whatever it is,” she looked Rogue in the face and she couldn’t help but look back, “I’m sorry.”
Rogue scoffed between her teeth. “I don’t think it’s your fault, actually. Well–” she amended, scratching an itch on her arm– “You ‘n’ Logan bein’, like, together , is kinda shitty for me.”
Jean laughed a little at that, darkly, but it was still a laugh.
“Yeah,” she said. “You and half the Institute.”
“You should tell Bobby to keep his opinions to himself, by the way,” Rogue interjected.
“I did,” she said, shaking her head. “That guy. Anyway–” she flexed her shoulder a bit in a way that told Rogue she was working out an ache– “Like you were saying, it’s not really anyone’s business but mine and Logan’s.”
“Normally I’d agree,” said Rogue, “But that guy’s been like my father since I been here.”
And then Jean winced, because it had never occurred to her that her private actions would have public consequences.
“Yeah,” Rogue finished, lamely.
“I’m not going to apologize for that,” said Jean, drawing her arm over her knees. “I don’t think there’s really anything to say.”
“Maybe not,” Rogue supplied, crossing her arms. It didn’t change the fact that it made her skin crawl.
“In any case, what’s done is done,” said Jean. “If it helps, I won’t treat you any differently.”
“It’d be better if you did,” Rogue retorted. “If you were some kinda pseudo-stepmom instead of whatever the hell this –” she waved a hand at Jean’s everything– “Is.”
What the hell were you supposed to do when your best friend-slash-crush’s ex was having sex with your father figure?
“I am sorry for putting you in that position,” said Jean. “To be honest, I thought you were just mad at me for dumping Scott.”
“Don’t get me wrong, Grey,” Rogue said, her tone purposely firm, “I’m pissed as hell you broke his heart. But, you know–”
“You’re also grateful that he’s single again?” Jean said with a knowing smirk.
“I’m gettin’ real tired of you knowing what I’m about to say,” Rogue deflected, though she suspected the heat on her cheeks betrayed her real feelings. “Anyway, yeah, whatever. Apparently he–” She cut herself off before she could mention the souvenir. Jean hadn’t earned that bit of information.
“Can I be honest?” Jean asked, standing up.
“I’d rather you be honest than not,” Rogue replied.
“I think,” Jean said, holding her hands together, “That you and Scott would work very, very well together.”
Rogue blinked. And then she blinked again. “Why?”
“Scott’s really intense,” she explained. “Sometimes that’s a really good thing, and sometimes it’s not so good. You said it yourself, he’s just a lot.”
“But worth it,” Rogue replied.
“He is,” Jean agreed. “I didn’t break up with him because I thought he was a bad person, or because he, I dunno, abused me or anything. I dumped him because I just needed more space.”
“I understand that,” Rogue agreed, begrudgingly. “Sometimes a gal just wants to be left alone.”
“Yeah,” said Jean. “He’s a great guy, with a good heart, and honest to a fault, but–” she sighed and ran her hand through her hair again– “When you can’t help but hear everyone’s thoughts and feelings all the time, having a direct line into a head as intense as his is like staring into the sun.”
Rogue nodded, considering. She hadn’t thought of that; what it would actually be like to be Jean. “Why do you spend so much time around people, then?” she asked.
“I like being around people,” Jean said. “And when it’s harmless background noise, it’s almost fun. Like being on a train or a bus and overhearing hushed little conversations and getting random tidbits of people’s lives. Most people don’t project their thoughts, just feelings, and you’d be surprised how often I’m surrounded by average people all experiencing simple happiness.”
That was– different. Not what she’d been expecting Jean to say, and it was sweet. Far sweeter than she’d ever thought the telepath could be. On her worst days, angry at the world, she’d wondered what Scott ever saw in Jean that made him love her so. And now, she thought she could see that person in her, the loving, compassionate person of whom Rogue’s last glimpse had been on the night they first met, half a dream.
“And with Logan,” Jean continued, and Rogue tensed right back up again, “It’s different. It’s hard not to focus on Scott but it’s almost the exact opposite with Logan. He likes to be alone, he likes to relax. Scott likes to have adventures. He likes to do things and go places and meet people, y’know? Make connections. But I’ve got those already, all the time.”
“So being with Logan lets you, what, limit yourself?” Rogue asked, now legitimately curious even as the thought of Logan being intimate with anyone was deeply unpleasant.
Jean waggled her head, but ended up saying, “Yeah, pretty much.”
“Huh,” Rogue mused. “That simple.”
“That simple,” Jean parroted. “To be fair, I’ve been thinking about this for a long time, and I probably should have ended it much sooner.”
Rogue couldn’t find any fault in that, so she sighed and dropped her head to her chest. “I’m glad you’re happy, I guess,” she said. “I still think it’s weird, but that ain’t gonna change anythin’.”
“No, no it’s not,” Jean replied, her face warmer than Rogue could ever remember seeing it. “And for the record, even though you don’t need it, you have my permission and endorsement to try your hand dating Scott. He’s a lot, but I think you can handle it.”
“I’ve stuck around this long, haven’t I?” Rogue asked rhetorically. It had been almost seven years since she first joined the X-men; longer still since she and Scott first met, and it had been nonstop motion and color and sound the whole time. Nonstop X-activities and plain old teenagehood and young adulthood.
Jean smiled at her, and it reached her eyes. “I think you’re going to stick around for a long time more, too,” she said. “May as well try and live the life you want to.”
“You reckon my chances are good?” Rogue asked, because what the hell, she’d already admitted to it. She had a primary source here; she might as well pick her brain. “I don’t know what you heard the other day, but he got me a souvenir from Mardi Gras.”
Jean chuckled. “I think your odds are better than you give yourself credit for. He didn’t get a souvenir for Kurt,” she replied, but then frowned. “Don’t let yourself become a rebound, though. You deserve better than that and so does he.”
“You– you really think so?” Rogue asked. Today was full of surprises, including that Jean fucking Grey actually respected her.
“I do,” she replied. “Now let’s get out of this elevator. It’s so stuffy in here.”
Rogue nodded at her as she left. She wouldn’t say they would magically be friends, not even close to it, but for the first time in seven years, there was something there she could trust, even
outside
the danger room.