DISCLAIMER: ALL CHARACTERS ARE STRICTLY THE
PROPERTY OF MARVEL COMICS, THEY ARE USED PURELY
FOR ENTERTAINMENT PURPOSES AND MARVEL IN NO
WAY RECEIVES ANY MONEY FROM THIS STORY
By Carl Termini
The sun hit her face. It felt warm and cool, at once. With a simple
gesture from her hand Jean Grey moved her hand and her red hair
moved from her face. Her emerald eyes looked out onto the green
grass. She sighed. It was a low deep sigh. Lips parted and her
tongue gently moistened them. Her arms were wrapped around her
stomach. Tears began to fill her eyes. She couldn't believe that it had
happened. She looked toward the alarm clock. Its digital numbers
flashed. She read the time. 6:15 A.M.. She wiped the single tear that
fell down her cheek. Scott lay in bed still. His brown hair falling all
over his face. A gentle snore escaped his mouth. He gave a slight
grin and rolled over. Jean admired his physique. They hadn't been
married long. They'd known each other through several of her lives.
She wiped another tear from her cheek. She walked to the bathroom.
Her footsteps gentle on the ground. She may not have even by
walking on the ground. She didn't know. All she knew was that she
had to get to the bathroom. When her feet hit the cold tiles, she
stopped and shuddered. She then proceeded on her way. She looked
at her reflection. When she was younger, she had a brief modeling
career, but her heart had called her in another direction. She had
become one of the few X-Men. She had been there almost since the
beginning. She opened the medicine cabinet with a quiet snap. She
moved the Advil to the left and picked up the small box behind it. It
was glossy and smooth. Jean marveled at the smoothness. She
quietly shut the bathroom door and locked it with a click. She put the
seat down on the toilet. She giggled at the thought of how many
times she had actually told Scott to put the seat down. She wiped the
third, and she hoped the final, tear from her cheek. She opens the box
and pulls out the small white stick with the little tab on it. She
wondered quietly to herself, what man had invented this tool.
Madelyne Pryor sat in bed. She watched as the waves crashed on the
side of the boat. She released a light sigh. Her breath was heavy.
Madelyne held her stomach tight. Her tears were flowing quickly
now. She couldn't stop. No matter how hard she tried. The thought
of this was unbearable, but she still wanted. She would have to learn
and grow now. Put the past in the past, but still remember the pain.
She turned and looked at Shaw. He is gorgeous she thought. She
can't remember how many times she had said that to herself. She
quickly sat back in bed and wrapped herself tight in the sheets.
Scott woke up with a loud grunt. He lightly scratched his head and
slapped his gums. He looked around the room. It all appeared a
reddish tint to him, due to his ruby quartz goggles he wore while
sleeping. He took them off and blindly searched for the glasses
version. His had first hit nothing but air. He told himself to stay calm
and restarted his search. His hand hit the wooden night stand. He
breathed a sigh of relief that Jean hadn't moved the night stand during
the night in some form of twisted revenge because she fell in the toilet
the previous morning, due to the fact that he forgot to put the toilet
seat down. With some time and patience he found his glasses and
slipped them on. When he went to wake Jean up next to him, he
found her missing. "Jean," he called. His voice was rough and
scratchy from not being used in a while. He called to her again. He
swung his legs off the bed and stood up. He put his red silk robe on.
"Jean!" This time his voice was worried. Then from the direction of
the bathroom came a flushing sound. The door opened and there she
stood. Jean wrapped her own robe tighter around herself. "Jean,"
Scott said again.
"Yes, lover," she retorted.
"Where were you?"
"I didn't mean to worry you, just had to use the facilities." She smiled
gently and sniffled.
"Is something wrong?" Scott leaned closer to her. Though his eyes
were covered with his glasses she could easily make out the look of
worriment on his face.
Jean giggled and sniffled again. "No, I'm fine."
Scott couldn't believe how smooth her voice was. Even her telepathic
voice. Every time he heard her he felt as though he was being
wrapped in velvet. He smiled quickly then returned to his senses.
"Okay, if you say so." Scott leaned and kissed her on the check. "I'm
going to go get some breakfast, you want anything?"
"No, I'm fine. Besides I'll be down soon enough to make my own.
Jean chuckled. And watched as Scott walked out of their room. She
went to the closet wiping more and more tears from her cheeks. She
opened the large wooden doors with a grunt. As she studied the
clothes, she rubbed her stomach. She smiled and wiped a few stray
tears from her checks. Again she rubbed her stomach and smiled.
Jean couldn't help it. She had to smile. She had started out worried
and sad about the whole situation, but now she couldn't be happier.
She had fulfilled almost all of her dreams. "Well, Rachel what should
we wear today?" she asked out loud as her hands continually rubbed
her stomach. "Well? Okay, the jeans, the tight ones, might as well
wear them while you can. What's that? Oh, the tank top. Good idea.
I guess we know now where you get the fashion sense in the family."
Jean laughed. She took off her clothes got dressed. Through it all
she couldn't get over it. She had a little life growing inside of her. A
little thing that would depend on her for everything. A little piece of
her. She sniffled and went to the phone. She quickly dialed a
number. "Hello. Is Dr. Tuttle in? He is. Um, when can I schedule a
meeting? No, today is fine. 3:00 it is then. Alright. Thank you, have
a nice day." Jean hung up the phone and smiled again. She put on
her sneakers and headed out of the room. She admired the beauty of
the wooden halls. Her fingers ran against the walls as she walked.
She wasn't really walking so much as floating. She slowly
telekinetically lowered herself down the stairs. She raised her nose to
the air and smelled Betsy's cooking. She never did find out where she
learned to cook. "Goodmornin'," Jean sung.
"Hello, dear," responded Ororo. "Some, waffles?"
"Don't mind if I do." Jean took the plate of waffles from Ororo's
hands. The plate felt heavy, but she could easily carry it with both
hands. She took two waffles for herself and handed the plate off to
Sam. "Ororo, you doing anything this afternoon?"
"No, why do you ask, Jean?"
"Well, I need a friend to help out with some personal things this
"I would love to, but why not, Scott?"
Jean leaned in closer to Ororo and responded, "It's, um, some girl
"I understood, I will join you."
"Betsy would you care to come as well?"
Betsy turned from the stove so that she might look right at Jean. "No,
that is all right, me and Warren have some plans ourselves."
Dr. Cecila Reyes, looked up from her plate. "Well, why not, I've got
nothing planned. Sure."
"Great!" Jean clapped her hands and smiled. "It's a girl's afternoon."
"Move it people! Move it!" Jean shouted. Her hand moving in a
circle with the car door opened.
Cecila ran out of the mansion, screaming, "Fine! I'm coming. Jeez,
would you please shut up!"
"Ahh! That was loud."
"Good. I think I got my point across." Jean slammed the door on
just as Cecila sat down on the leather seat, and walked to the drivers
side of the car. She started the car and drove off.
"Where are you going, Jean?" Ororo asked in her strong African
"Well first I have to go to the doctor's."
"What!" Cecila shouted from the back. "I thought a girl's afternoon
would involve the mall and a limitless credit card."
"We will do that," Jean said, her voice calm, "but I need to get
something checked out, that's all."
"What is it?" Ororo asked.
"Well, I might be-"
"Pregnant?!" shouted Cecila. "Omigod, that is so amazing."
"Yes, so I'm going to the doctor to get it check out."
"Why didn't you ask me?"
"Well, to be honest...I thought you were more of a surgeon than a
doctor who checks people out."
The waiting room of the office was bland. Ororo and Cecila hadn't
been waiting long, but the wait was beginning to wear thin. The
office was filled with out of date magazines. Cecila turned to Ororo.
"Hey, 'Ro, did you see this, according to this issue of Times,
President Nixon is in some kind of controversy."
"You are not very funny," Ororo said, looking sternly.
Jean walked out of the office and headed strait for Ororo and Cecila.
"Well?" asked Cecila.
"What do you think?" Jean responded.
Ororo threw her arms around Jean and began to cry tears of joy. "I
am so happy for you."