That Hazy Grey
This was inspired by the Meredith Brooks' song, "What Would Happen" which is an intensely sexy song.. Also, by my really strange imagination. I don't own them, they belong to Marvel. Neither of the songs mentioned are mine. (duh, yes..)

Note: as I was htmling this, I thought I'd mention that the title was NOT deliberate. Definitely Freudian, though..

That Hazy Grey

by Ana Lyssie Cotton

She stood there, staring out the window. Somewhere in the distance he was there. She should find him. ~I-I want..~ But she wouldn't think about that. She couldn't. It hurt too much. What she had seen. What she had felt in his mind.


Ororo flew through the air, delighting in the sheer freeness of the sky. Streaming behind her like a kite-tail, her hair rippled and tugged at the roots, giving her scalp a semi-massage. It felt wonderful. But then, so did the sunlight. And she needed that, needed the life, the freedom of the sky. It was so much easier than facing things. Facing her feelings. Facing what she felt. About him. ~I almost. We almost..~ The sky shook as she lost concentration and shuddered a bit in mid-air. ~I nearly..~ Her face burned, tears beginning to form. "Oh, Jean, I never meant to... My friend." She shivered as if the sunlight was gone, feeling her soul chill.


He needed her. It was that simple. ~Why did I do it? Why did..~ He stared at the lake. ~She's my life. My heart and soul. How could I do this to her? One little moment. And I destroyed everything.~

"You're not to blame."

He didn't turn, didn't want to hear her, see her. Any excuse.

"I-I'm so sorry."

He stared at the lake. Eventually a wind passed and she was gone. Only then did he turn to stare after her, wondering how he could have let it happen.

It was late, they'd all been drinking and laughing, having fun for once. Harry's was rocking in more sense than one as people chose one excellent song after another on the jukebox. Dancing was de riguer. He and Jean had danced a few times and were now catching their breaths. Storm and Bishop sat across from them, sipping drinks and talking about the security around the mansion. Every so often Ororo would look a bit wistfully at the dance floor. After she'd done it the fifth or sixth time, Jean had nudged him.

[Ask her.]


[To dance, silly.]

Giving his wife a lightly evil look, he turned to Storm, "Ororo, would you care to dance?"

She'd smiled gratefully, "Why thank you Scott, yes I would."

They'd stood up and he'd taken her arm to lead her to the floor when the song ended. He continued, "We're going to dance at least one, my friend."

And so they had. As soon as the next song started up. The music had been hot, sultry, making you sweat--even without any physical effort.

'E-lec-tricity, eye to eye..
'Hey don't I know you?
'I can't speak...'

Dancing, turning, feeling the music pulse through his body, Scott started to wonder. He could feel her body, even from the distance of a foot. She moved so gracefully, so sensually. Something stirred within him. He pulled her closer, not thinking just feeling.

"Scott?" She was curious, unafraid. She danced closer to him. They were body to body. His mind began to spin.

'The room is spinning out of control,
'Act like you didn't notice...'

Licking his lips, he stared down into those deep, beautiful eyes, "'Ro, I--" He felt himself shudder and jerked back his eyes widening. His hands clenched and he shoved her away from himself, backed up.

'What would happen if we kissed?
'Would your tongue slip past my lips..'

The song floated around them, he looked at her again then turned and blindly went for the door. Stumbling, walking, trying to find it.

[Scott? What--] She caught it, felt it. Their link closed with such finality that he winced.

No one seemed to notice. Except maybe Logan. Scott wasn't sure. He'd made it back to the boathouse and gone to sleep on the couch, knowing Jean wouldn't wnat him in their bed. He'd *tried* to go to sleep anyway. Jean came in and looked at him, then went into their bedroom and closed the door.

It was a long night.

He'd gotten up as soon as it was light and gone to stare at the lake. And so he waited.


Jean stared at the door. The knock sounded again. ~Storm.~ Her mind informed her as she psi-scanned the person out there. She found herself at the door, opening it without quite knowing that she was going there. She stared at Ororo. Ororo stared back at her.

"Jean, I--"

"Shut up." She turned and stalked away from her friend. Friend? Hah! "I don't want to hear any excuses, just--tell me. Is this the first time you've done this? Lusted after my husband??" She didn't, she really *didn't* want to know. Yet she had to.


"You're lying."

"No, I'm not. Jean, listen to me. This was, this was.." Her voice trailed off as she fought for words. Jean stared out the window, not looking at Storm. "This was a mistake, unintentional. It was the song," She finished, nearly whispering.

"The song. The song?" Jean whirled, pain flashing through her, "Is this going to happen between you and any man you dance with when that song comes on??"

Ororo flinched, her eyes darkening, "No."

Jean turned away again, her anger spent. Her head ached, even with her shields as tight as she could get them she could still feel Ororo's remorse and guilt. The window felt wonderfully cool against her forehead.


"Just. Go. I can't listen right now." ~Please.~ The door opened and closed quietly.

"I was thinking, trying to come up with something to say, to explain." He shifted. "And this song came to me--"

"Not another song. What did this one do, make you lust after Betsy again?" She demanded of him, whirling.

He winced, "No, it was a song by.. I don't recall actually. It says something about eyes. 'Your eyes, the light, the heat. In your eyes I am complete...'" He trailed off, staring at her. "You're the person that makes me whole."

She stared at him, trying not to.. "Why?"

"I don't know." He stepped towards her, "Jean, I'm sorry. I don't know why. Maybe the song, maybe my subconscious, hell, I'm a male, she's a female, I *don't* know. I wish I did." he concluded sounding miserable.

Against her will her feet moved her closer to him, "Scott, I.. I love you. But, I.." She stopped and looked at him, "I don't know if I can trust you. Can I?"

"Yes. You have my heart and soul in your keeping."

"That sounds so poetic, does it mean anything?" Jean winced as pain flashed through his expression. "I'm sorry, I--"

"Jean, I love you, if you don't believe me, *read my mind*." He looked at her, steadily, opening any of the shields he'd been taught to hold.

It would be so easy to say no, to turn away, to walk away from him and never look back. Life seemed so simple. But she couldn't. Because.. ~Because he's your other half, ninny.~ Tentatively she reached out. His mind was so beautiful to her. It was so familiar and comforting. She sifted gently through it, feeling his memories, wincing as she touched a few of Nathan as a baby, ~He was such a wonderful child.~ She found that night, found the memory of it. Shied away, then went back. Lust. Music. Life. Love, for her. Sadness and guilt.

"I believe you. Scott, I believe you." She looked at him fully, "This might happen again, it might happen on my side. Scott, objectively I know neither of us is dead. But deep inside.." She trailed off, hoping he'd understand.

"Inside it still hurts," he finished, hoarsely.

"Yes." She closed her eyes as he carefully wrapped his arms around her, then cupped her face. His lips gently touched her forehead, then she was holding him tightly, her lips moving on his.

He pulled away and kissed her cheeks, forehead, nose, down the link she felt his joy, his love and she sent it back wordlessly.


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© 1999 Ana Lyssie Cotton.