Fic: "Invalid Address", Movieverse, Scott/Jean. Rated T.
Title: Invalid Address
Author: Sionnain
'Verse: Movie-verse, post X3. Contains spoilers for X3, if that is still an issue.
Character, Pairing: Logan, Scott/Jean
Rating: T
Summary: Storm asks Logan to do a little maintenance on an unused email account.
AN: Written for the Jeannie_x_Slim "Letters" Challenge. I've written a similarly formatted fic before, but this idea jumped at me and I went with it. Thanks to Resolute and Inlovewithnight for the beta.
Invalid Address
Storm caught him in the hallway, frazzled, while she was in the midst of checking in another new kid. God. They seemed to get six more each day. Storm refused to turn them away. She didn't want them to end up disaffected and alone, fodder for another of Magneto's armies. Logan didn't blame her for that, and he was trying to help. But what the hell did he know about computers?
"I just need someone to go through the emails, because they are starting to pile up in the in-box," Storm said, frantic. "Logan, all you have to do is go through and delete them and follow the very simple instructions on how to forward mail from the address to mine. I left the password and the sign-in on the desk. Please." Her dark eyes looked tired. Exhausted. Logan didn't think she'd been to bed before three am in the last three months. None of them had. He'd thought Alcatraz was the height of insanity. No, that would be trying to run a mutant school amidst national hysteria over a failing cure.
"Bobby--"
"Bobby and Kitty are doing orientation. Rogue's trying to help in the kitchen with Peter. Warren and Hank are interviewing that contractor about the addition to the house. Please, Logan. The phone has been ringing off the hook--"
Logan put his hands up. "Right. Okay. Password on the desk. Clean out the old emails. If I destroy something, 'Ro, you aren't blaming me later."
Storm tossed him a harried smile. "Promise. Thank you, Logan." She hugged him, quick and tight, then dashed off. Shouting for someone whose name Logan didn't know. Which was a lot of them, now. They all wanted code names, and half of them changed them six times a day. Logan started using names he came up with himself. That kept getting him in trouble, too. But at least it worked.
The office was at least quiet, for which he was grateful. Logan wasn't much for computers, but he knew how to use one. Well. How to check his email and play hearts online, when he couldn't sleep. He found the post-it note on the monitor. He signed in, opened Outlook. It took him a few seconds to realize that Ororo had lied to him.
This wasn't the Xavier Institute email account.
It was Scott's.
Logan stared at the list of emails. Most of it was probably spam; there was a lot of ads for prescription drugs, things like that. Some that offered miracle male enhancement. Logan smiled at that, the echo of a snicker in his mind. Oh, but it would have been so easy. Too easy. His fingers rested lightly on the keys. He hated Summers for being dead. Logan could have really teased Scott about this. Maybe they could have been friends, eventually. Despite Jeannie.
Logan swallowed. He put most of the emails in the trash. There were some that looked important. He forwarded those to himself, to his own email address. He got a lot less mail than the others. Used to get a lot of emails from Marie, in college. Before the cure failed and she became Rogue again. That had been tough; she'd shown back up, fingers pressed like bones against her shock of white. Sobbing. Flinching when he tried to hug her and tell her it was going to be okay.
So he didn't. Instead, Logan told her that nothing good ever lasted. She seemed shocked by that. Then she'd nodded. Straightened her shoulders. Gone up to her old room, and borrowed a pair of gloves from Kitty.
And that had been that. She was Rogue again. Every now and then, Logan heard her laugh, quiet and cold, and thought about Magneto. But she was getting better at it, she said. Making the other voices be quiet. If she wasn't precisely happy, she wasn't destroyed, either. Sometimes she smiled a little sharply at Kitty and Bobby, but she seemed okay. She was a survivor, Rogue.
Like him.
Logan went back to the emails. Scott was on some mailing lists. Something for teachers, something for baseball. Logan went through and followed the links to unsubscribe. It felt like he was erasing a person. Logan shook his head. This was not the time to be dramatic. No, that was for when he chewed Storm out for tricking him. Logan clicked on the side, looking for the "deleted items" folder so he could permanently erase all the messages he'd cleared.
That's when he saw it. Over on the side. A folder called "Jean."
Logan stared at it for a long time. His fingers pressed against the mouse. Finally, he clicked on it. Just to see.
There were a lot of emails. All of them dated, with subjects that ranged from "Hey" to "Grrr" to "Someone please tell me Pyro graduates soon?" Logan's eyes moved down the list. There were hundreds. He clicked the button at the top, organizing them from first to last. Logan started at the top. Obviously the first one Scott had sent, upon getting his new account. Logan snorted at the subject heading. "Original, Summers."
From: S.Summers@xavier.edu
To: J.Grey@xavier.edu
Subject: Email
Jean--
Hey, let me know that you got this? I think we have all the accounts set up. The student ones will have "name@students.xavier.edu."
--Scott
Jean's reply was beneath.
From: J.Grey@xavier.edu
To: S.Summers@xavier.edu
Subject: Re: Email
I got it. Did you get mine? God, I can't believe we don't have "student" in there. I feel old now.
J.
Logan smiled. He could imagine her, sitting at the computer. It'd have to have been an old one. The date on the email was '95. Logan didn't remember where he was, then.
He kept scrolling. Sometimes Jean sent Scott emails with funny quotes on it. Sometimes her subject headings made Logan smile, a little.
From: J.Grey@xavier.edu
To: S.Summers@xavier.edu
Subject: Banana in your pocket this morning at breakfast, Professor Summers, or were you just glad to see me?
(message blank)
Scott had changed the email subject. Of course he had.
From: S.Summers@xavier.edu
To: J.Grey@xavier.edu
Subject: Your Email from this morning
A banana. I'm stealing fruit to hide in my office for later, since I have a lot of grading to do. And don't call me Professor. That's just creepy.
-S
Logan read through, skimming. He felt like a voyeur. Sometimes he had to laugh at Scott, always so serious, so earnest. Sometimes he felt bad, reading them. Emails sent during times of obvious tension, evident from the tone of the emails.
From: J.Grey@xavier.edu
To: S.Summers@xavier.edu
Subject: Phone message
Emma Frost called for you. Again. On your cell phone.
-Jean
From: S.Summers@xavier.edu
To: J.Grey@xavier.edu
Subject: Re: Phone Message
I have no idea how she got that number. Maybe she called the mansion and one of the kids gave it to her.
--Scott
From: J.Grey@xavier.edu
To: S.Summers@xavier.edu
Subject: Phone message
I'm sure that's it.
--Jean
From: S.Summers@xavier.edu
To: J.Grey@xavier.edu
Subject: Re: Re: Phone Message
She IS a telepath. I mean. If she really wanted my number, she could get it. Without me giving it to her.
Not that I want her to have it. Because I don't.
--Scott
From: J.Grey@xavier.edu
To: S.Summers@xavier.edu
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Phone message
So am I. A telepath. Don't forget. I'm also a lot better at it than Frosty the Ice Bitch.
Ooops. Did I type that out loud?
From: S.Summers@xavier.edu
To: J.Grey@xavier.edu
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Phone Message
I don't forget, babe. Ever. :-)
Either of those things. You being a psychic. And the other thing.
From: J.Grey@xavier.edu
To: S.Summers@xavier.edu
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Phone message
That's not fair, using that cute smiley face thing!
Love you.
There were a lot of emails throughout the years. Logan read many of them, but he didn't read most. One had an attachment that said Sexy!!, but when he clicked it (and how could he not, even though he felt vaguely guilty about it), there was nothing there. Of course. If that was a sexy picture of Jean naked (not that anything in the email said that), Boyscout Summers wouldn't have left it on the hard drive.
He was surprised, too, to read how well they talked to each other. Over email, about that things that were important. The Professor, how they were worried about him, when news of Magneto's activities reached the mansion.
From: J.Grey@xavier.edu
To: S.Summers@xavier.edu
Subject: News
I saw on the news about Erik. The Professor is in his room. You want to remind him about the accreditation visit tomorrow or should I?
Sometimes, Scott, I can't believe it's him. Erik, I mean. Our Erik.
From: S.Summers@xavier.edu
To: J.Grey@xavier.edu
Subject: Re: News
Maybe we should tell him together? Do you really think he'll forget? I don't think he'll forget, Jean. Could you just make him remember? Then we could avoid that conversation.
I know, about Erik. I don't think I'm ever going to get used to him being "Magneto" and not Professor Lehnsherr. Even after all this time.
From: J.Grey@xavier.edu
To: S.Summers@xavier.edu
Subject: Re: Re: News
He remembers. He just sent a thought to me that he would be fine in the morning, he just needed to be by himself tonight.
I don't think the Professor is ever going to get used to that, either.
Why weren't we ever enough for Erik, Scott? I wish we were enough.
I sound like a kid with divorced parents, don't I? That's how I feel, I guess.
Logan noticed there was no answer. At least, not in an email.
It was getting late. He was going to have to have to turn off the computer, get up. Go back to being--god forbid--Mr. Logan. Wolverine. A superhero. Logan scrolled through the emails, then he stopped. Saw an email with his name on it. At least, he assumed it was about him, from the subject heading.
From: S.Summers@xavier.edu
To: J.Grey@xavier.edu
Subject: The Hairball
So, is he bothering you? I mean, if he is, I'll kick his ass. Not that you need me to, you know, since I trust you and you have that whole brain-melting thing. I'm just saying that I would. For you. If you wanted.
From: J.Grey@xavier.edu
To: S.Summers@xavier.edu
Subject: Re: The Hairball
Scott, you better have been drunk when you emailed that.
I have no problems with Logan. And yes, if I did, I would be happy to work it out myself. Without "brain melting". Honestly, Scott.
This macho-man act has got to stop, sweetie. You know I love you. You don't have to beat up Logan to prove it.
And if you do, you are so sleeping on the couch for a long time. Especially if you use me as an excuse.
From: S.Summers@xavier.edu
To: J.Grey@xavier.edu
Subject: Re: Re: The Hairball
I wasn't drunk. Okay, a little. Blame Hank. Don't worry, I didn't drive. He dropped me off.
Still. What should I do with him? The Professor is preoccupied with Magneto. I have Bobby and John fighting over the new girl. Reminded me why I wanted to teach high schoolers again?
From: J.Grey@xavier.edu
To: S.Summers@xavier.edu
Subject: Re: Re: Re: The Hairball
Let Logan be, honey. He'll work out his place here. Or he won't.
You're a teacher because you're good at it. You're the leader of the X-Men because you're good at that, too.
You're my fiancee because I love you. Now get up here and stop sending me emails, okay? I have other things in mind we could be doing.
From: S.Summers@xavier.edu
To: J.Grey@xavier.edu
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: The Hairball
You know, it just occurred to me that it's kind of dumb I send you all these emails. I mean, I could just think this at you.
From: J.Grey@xavier.edu
To: S.Summers@xavier.edu
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: The Hairball
You could. I think it's sweet. I bet you save them all, too.
From: S.Summers@xavier.edu
To: J.Grey@xavier.edu
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: The Hairball
What, like I have a folder for emails of things I could just tell you but instead email you?
Why would I do that?
From: J.Grey@xavier.edu
To: S.Summers@xavier.edu
Subject: Yup
Because you're a dork, and it would kill you to have all these emails and not organize them. Now get upstairs! This little red number is not going to stay on for long, babe. You take any longer and it's me, wearing one of your old baseball t-shirts, half-asleep.
From: S.Summers@xavier.edu
To: J.Grey@xavier.edu
Subject: Re: Yup
I like you in my old baseball t-shirts.
Okay, okay. I can hear you in my head. I'm coming. But I meant it, about the baseball shirt. It's almost as sexy as the red thing.
Logan smiled at that. He could hear her, a little. Her voice, as if she were still there. That voice of hers, slightly throaty, teasing and sexy.
But she wasn't talking to him. That voice was all for Scott, and always had been. Always would have been, too.
Logan was nearing the end of the emails, now.
From: J.Grey@xavier.edu
To: S.Summers@xavier.edu
Subject: Field Trip
Hey babe--
Don't forget we have to take the kids to the museum tomorrow. I guess the Professor is going to go after all. We're going to have a full house. Remember when we used to go on field trips, and Ororo would always try and sneak out of the museum to go to the gift shop? I hope three people in her group do that, just to get back at her for that one time at the Museum of Modern Art.
Remember that?
I hope everyone behaves themselves. I have my doubts. Maybe we could leave some of them at the zoo on the way home, haha.
(I don't mean that. You know that, right?)
So you remember, and you're going to be there, right?
--Jeannie
And did you know Emma Frost has a website? That hussy. I was looking for the webcam or the place where you could pay her to take her clothes off, haha.
(Only kidding. There was no option for that.)
Logan laughed out loud at that, and then he looked at the date. His eyes closed. It was the night before the museum field trip, the night before the attack on the President.
He saw Scott's reply.
From: S.Summers@xavier.edu
To: J.Grey@xavier.edu
Subject: Re: Field Trip
Wouldn't miss it for the world, babe.
The field trip. Not Emma's striptease-site. Honey, put the coffee down. You know you shouldn't have caffeine after dinner.
From: J.Grey@xavier.edu
To: S.Summers@xavier.edu
Subject: Re: Re: Field Trip
Haha! Okay. Stop fiddling with the bike, then. Come fiddle with me :-)
Glad you're coming. I always feel better when you're around.
There aren't anymore emails for a long time. After the museum trip, the Professor sent Jean to Boston. And Jean never came home. Not really. Well, something did. For a little while. But it wasn't Jean.
There was one final email. It was dated two days before Scott left for Alkali, the last time.
From: S.Summers@xavier.edu
To: J.Grey@xavier.edu
Subject: (no subject)
Why did you leave me?
Logan felt something cut deep in his stomach as he read that, sharp like a knife to the gut. Like the claws he'd buried in Jean's living flesh, watching the life seep out of her eyes as she died. Logan suddenly found it hard to breathe. He looked down, not wanting to see, but knowing he had to finish this. He owed it to them both. He made himself read the last email.
From: postmaster@xavier.edu
To: S.Summers@xavier.edu
Subject: FATAL ERROR
MESSAGE:
Why did you leave me?
WAS NOT DELIVERED TO HOST. REASON: INVALID RECIPIENT. HOST DOES RECOGNIZE J.Grey@XAVIER.EDU. IF YOU BELIEVE YOU HAVE REACHED THIS MESSAGE IN ERROR, PLEASE CONTACT THE ADMINISTRATOR.
Logan closed the email. He went through the instructions for forwarding emails from this address to Storm's. And the erased the "deleted items" folder. And he thought about clicking and dragging the folder marked "Jean", but he didn't.
Logan stood up and switched off the computer. There were some things that shouldn't be erased.
Author: Sionnain
'Verse: Movie-verse, post X3. Contains spoilers for X3, if that is still an issue.
Character, Pairing: Logan, Scott/Jean
Rating: T
Summary: Storm asks Logan to do a little maintenance on an unused email account.
AN: Written for the Jeannie_x_Slim "Letters" Challenge. I've written a similarly formatted fic before, but this idea jumped at me and I went with it. Thanks to Resolute and Inlovewithnight for the beta.
Invalid Address
Storm caught him in the hallway, frazzled, while she was in the midst of checking in another new kid. God. They seemed to get six more each day. Storm refused to turn them away. She didn't want them to end up disaffected and alone, fodder for another of Magneto's armies. Logan didn't blame her for that, and he was trying to help. But what the hell did he know about computers?
"I just need someone to go through the emails, because they are starting to pile up in the in-box," Storm said, frantic. "Logan, all you have to do is go through and delete them and follow the very simple instructions on how to forward mail from the address to mine. I left the password and the sign-in on the desk. Please." Her dark eyes looked tired. Exhausted. Logan didn't think she'd been to bed before three am in the last three months. None of them had. He'd thought Alcatraz was the height of insanity. No, that would be trying to run a mutant school amidst national hysteria over a failing cure.
"Bobby--"
"Bobby and Kitty are doing orientation. Rogue's trying to help in the kitchen with Peter. Warren and Hank are interviewing that contractor about the addition to the house. Please, Logan. The phone has been ringing off the hook--"
Logan put his hands up. "Right. Okay. Password on the desk. Clean out the old emails. If I destroy something, 'Ro, you aren't blaming me later."
Storm tossed him a harried smile. "Promise. Thank you, Logan." She hugged him, quick and tight, then dashed off. Shouting for someone whose name Logan didn't know. Which was a lot of them, now. They all wanted code names, and half of them changed them six times a day. Logan started using names he came up with himself. That kept getting him in trouble, too. But at least it worked.
The office was at least quiet, for which he was grateful. Logan wasn't much for computers, but he knew how to use one. Well. How to check his email and play hearts online, when he couldn't sleep. He found the post-it note on the monitor. He signed in, opened Outlook. It took him a few seconds to realize that Ororo had lied to him.
This wasn't the Xavier Institute email account.
It was Scott's.
Logan stared at the list of emails. Most of it was probably spam; there was a lot of ads for prescription drugs, things like that. Some that offered miracle male enhancement. Logan smiled at that, the echo of a snicker in his mind. Oh, but it would have been so easy. Too easy. His fingers rested lightly on the keys. He hated Summers for being dead. Logan could have really teased Scott about this. Maybe they could have been friends, eventually. Despite Jeannie.
Logan swallowed. He put most of the emails in the trash. There were some that looked important. He forwarded those to himself, to his own email address. He got a lot less mail than the others. Used to get a lot of emails from Marie, in college. Before the cure failed and she became Rogue again. That had been tough; she'd shown back up, fingers pressed like bones against her shock of white. Sobbing. Flinching when he tried to hug her and tell her it was going to be okay.
So he didn't. Instead, Logan told her that nothing good ever lasted. She seemed shocked by that. Then she'd nodded. Straightened her shoulders. Gone up to her old room, and borrowed a pair of gloves from Kitty.
And that had been that. She was Rogue again. Every now and then, Logan heard her laugh, quiet and cold, and thought about Magneto. But she was getting better at it, she said. Making the other voices be quiet. If she wasn't precisely happy, she wasn't destroyed, either. Sometimes she smiled a little sharply at Kitty and Bobby, but she seemed okay. She was a survivor, Rogue.
Like him.
Logan went back to the emails. Scott was on some mailing lists. Something for teachers, something for baseball. Logan went through and followed the links to unsubscribe. It felt like he was erasing a person. Logan shook his head. This was not the time to be dramatic. No, that was for when he chewed Storm out for tricking him. Logan clicked on the side, looking for the "deleted items" folder so he could permanently erase all the messages he'd cleared.
That's when he saw it. Over on the side. A folder called "Jean."
Logan stared at it for a long time. His fingers pressed against the mouse. Finally, he clicked on it. Just to see.
There were a lot of emails. All of them dated, with subjects that ranged from "Hey" to "Grrr" to "Someone please tell me Pyro graduates soon?" Logan's eyes moved down the list. There were hundreds. He clicked the button at the top, organizing them from first to last. Logan started at the top. Obviously the first one Scott had sent, upon getting his new account. Logan snorted at the subject heading. "Original, Summers."
From: S.Summers@xavier.edu
To: J.Grey@xavier.edu
Subject: Email
Jean--
Hey, let me know that you got this? I think we have all the accounts set up. The student ones will have "name@students.xavier.edu."
--Scott
Jean's reply was beneath.
From: J.Grey@xavier.edu
To: S.Summers@xavier.edu
Subject: Re: Email
I got it. Did you get mine? God, I can't believe we don't have "student" in there. I feel old now.
J.
Logan smiled. He could imagine her, sitting at the computer. It'd have to have been an old one. The date on the email was '95. Logan didn't remember where he was, then.
He kept scrolling. Sometimes Jean sent Scott emails with funny quotes on it. Sometimes her subject headings made Logan smile, a little.
From: J.Grey@xavier.edu
To: S.Summers@xavier.edu
Subject: Banana in your pocket this morning at breakfast, Professor Summers, or were you just glad to see me?
(message blank)
Scott had changed the email subject. Of course he had.
From: S.Summers@xavier.edu
To: J.Grey@xavier.edu
Subject: Your Email from this morning
A banana. I'm stealing fruit to hide in my office for later, since I have a lot of grading to do. And don't call me Professor. That's just creepy.
-S
Logan read through, skimming. He felt like a voyeur. Sometimes he had to laugh at Scott, always so serious, so earnest. Sometimes he felt bad, reading them. Emails sent during times of obvious tension, evident from the tone of the emails.
From: J.Grey@xavier.edu
To: S.Summers@xavier.edu
Subject: Phone message
Emma Frost called for you. Again. On your cell phone.
-Jean
From: S.Summers@xavier.edu
To: J.Grey@xavier.edu
Subject: Re: Phone Message
I have no idea how she got that number. Maybe she called the mansion and one of the kids gave it to her.
--Scott
From: J.Grey@xavier.edu
To: S.Summers@xavier.edu
Subject: Phone message
I'm sure that's it.
--Jean
From: S.Summers@xavier.edu
To: J.Grey@xavier.edu
Subject: Re: Re: Phone Message
She IS a telepath. I mean. If she really wanted my number, she could get it. Without me giving it to her.
Not that I want her to have it. Because I don't.
--Scott
From: J.Grey@xavier.edu
To: S.Summers@xavier.edu
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Phone message
So am I. A telepath. Don't forget. I'm also a lot better at it than Frosty the Ice Bitch.
Ooops. Did I type that out loud?
From: S.Summers@xavier.edu
To: J.Grey@xavier.edu
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Phone Message
I don't forget, babe. Ever. :-)
Either of those things. You being a psychic. And the other thing.
From: J.Grey@xavier.edu
To: S.Summers@xavier.edu
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Phone message
That's not fair, using that cute smiley face thing!
Love you.
There were a lot of emails throughout the years. Logan read many of them, but he didn't read most. One had an attachment that said Sexy!!, but when he clicked it (and how could he not, even though he felt vaguely guilty about it), there was nothing there. Of course. If that was a sexy picture of Jean naked (not that anything in the email said that), Boyscout Summers wouldn't have left it on the hard drive.
He was surprised, too, to read how well they talked to each other. Over email, about that things that were important. The Professor, how they were worried about him, when news of Magneto's activities reached the mansion.
From: J.Grey@xavier.edu
To: S.Summers@xavier.edu
Subject: News
I saw on the news about Erik. The Professor is in his room. You want to remind him about the accreditation visit tomorrow or should I?
Sometimes, Scott, I can't believe it's him. Erik, I mean. Our Erik.
From: S.Summers@xavier.edu
To: J.Grey@xavier.edu
Subject: Re: News
Maybe we should tell him together? Do you really think he'll forget? I don't think he'll forget, Jean. Could you just make him remember? Then we could avoid that conversation.
I know, about Erik. I don't think I'm ever going to get used to him being "Magneto" and not Professor Lehnsherr. Even after all this time.
From: J.Grey@xavier.edu
To: S.Summers@xavier.edu
Subject: Re: Re: News
He remembers. He just sent a thought to me that he would be fine in the morning, he just needed to be by himself tonight.
I don't think the Professor is ever going to get used to that, either.
Why weren't we ever enough for Erik, Scott? I wish we were enough.
I sound like a kid with divorced parents, don't I? That's how I feel, I guess.
Logan noticed there was no answer. At least, not in an email.
It was getting late. He was going to have to have to turn off the computer, get up. Go back to being--god forbid--Mr. Logan. Wolverine. A superhero. Logan scrolled through the emails, then he stopped. Saw an email with his name on it. At least, he assumed it was about him, from the subject heading.
From: S.Summers@xavier.edu
To: J.Grey@xavier.edu
Subject: The Hairball
So, is he bothering you? I mean, if he is, I'll kick his ass. Not that you need me to, you know, since I trust you and you have that whole brain-melting thing. I'm just saying that I would. For you. If you wanted.
From: J.Grey@xavier.edu
To: S.Summers@xavier.edu
Subject: Re: The Hairball
Scott, you better have been drunk when you emailed that.
I have no problems with Logan. And yes, if I did, I would be happy to work it out myself. Without "brain melting". Honestly, Scott.
This macho-man act has got to stop, sweetie. You know I love you. You don't have to beat up Logan to prove it.
And if you do, you are so sleeping on the couch for a long time. Especially if you use me as an excuse.
From: S.Summers@xavier.edu
To: J.Grey@xavier.edu
Subject: Re: Re: The Hairball
I wasn't drunk. Okay, a little. Blame Hank. Don't worry, I didn't drive. He dropped me off.
Still. What should I do with him? The Professor is preoccupied with Magneto. I have Bobby and John fighting over the new girl. Reminded me why I wanted to teach high schoolers again?
From: J.Grey@xavier.edu
To: S.Summers@xavier.edu
Subject: Re: Re: Re: The Hairball
Let Logan be, honey. He'll work out his place here. Or he won't.
You're a teacher because you're good at it. You're the leader of the X-Men because you're good at that, too.
You're my fiancee because I love you. Now get up here and stop sending me emails, okay? I have other things in mind we could be doing.
From: S.Summers@xavier.edu
To: J.Grey@xavier.edu
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: The Hairball
You know, it just occurred to me that it's kind of dumb I send you all these emails. I mean, I could just think this at you.
From: J.Grey@xavier.edu
To: S.Summers@xavier.edu
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: The Hairball
You could. I think it's sweet. I bet you save them all, too.
From: S.Summers@xavier.edu
To: J.Grey@xavier.edu
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: The Hairball
What, like I have a folder for emails of things I could just tell you but instead email you?
Why would I do that?
From: J.Grey@xavier.edu
To: S.Summers@xavier.edu
Subject: Yup
Because you're a dork, and it would kill you to have all these emails and not organize them. Now get upstairs! This little red number is not going to stay on for long, babe. You take any longer and it's me, wearing one of your old baseball t-shirts, half-asleep.
From: S.Summers@xavier.edu
To: J.Grey@xavier.edu
Subject: Re: Yup
I like you in my old baseball t-shirts.
Okay, okay. I can hear you in my head. I'm coming. But I meant it, about the baseball shirt. It's almost as sexy as the red thing.
Logan smiled at that. He could hear her, a little. Her voice, as if she were still there. That voice of hers, slightly throaty, teasing and sexy.
But she wasn't talking to him. That voice was all for Scott, and always had been. Always would have been, too.
Logan was nearing the end of the emails, now.
From: J.Grey@xavier.edu
To: S.Summers@xavier.edu
Subject: Field Trip
Hey babe--
Don't forget we have to take the kids to the museum tomorrow. I guess the Professor is going to go after all. We're going to have a full house. Remember when we used to go on field trips, and Ororo would always try and sneak out of the museum to go to the gift shop? I hope three people in her group do that, just to get back at her for that one time at the Museum of Modern Art.
Remember that?
I hope everyone behaves themselves. I have my doubts. Maybe we could leave some of them at the zoo on the way home, haha.
(I don't mean that. You know that, right?)
So you remember, and you're going to be there, right?
--Jeannie
And did you know Emma Frost has a website? That hussy. I was looking for the webcam or the place where you could pay her to take her clothes off, haha.
(Only kidding. There was no option for that.)
Logan laughed out loud at that, and then he looked at the date. His eyes closed. It was the night before the museum field trip, the night before the attack on the President.
He saw Scott's reply.
From: S.Summers@xavier.edu
To: J.Grey@xavier.edu
Subject: Re: Field Trip
Wouldn't miss it for the world, babe.
The field trip. Not Emma's striptease-site. Honey, put the coffee down. You know you shouldn't have caffeine after dinner.
From: J.Grey@xavier.edu
To: S.Summers@xavier.edu
Subject: Re: Re: Field Trip
Haha! Okay. Stop fiddling with the bike, then. Come fiddle with me :-)
Glad you're coming. I always feel better when you're around.
There aren't anymore emails for a long time. After the museum trip, the Professor sent Jean to Boston. And Jean never came home. Not really. Well, something did. For a little while. But it wasn't Jean.
There was one final email. It was dated two days before Scott left for Alkali, the last time.
From: S.Summers@xavier.edu
To: J.Grey@xavier.edu
Subject: (no subject)
Why did you leave me?
Logan felt something cut deep in his stomach as he read that, sharp like a knife to the gut. Like the claws he'd buried in Jean's living flesh, watching the life seep out of her eyes as she died. Logan suddenly found it hard to breathe. He looked down, not wanting to see, but knowing he had to finish this. He owed it to them both. He made himself read the last email.
From: postmaster@xavier.edu
To: S.Summers@xavier.edu
Subject: FATAL ERROR
MESSAGE:
Why did you leave me?
WAS NOT DELIVERED TO HOST. REASON: INVALID RECIPIENT. HOST DOES RECOGNIZE J.Grey@XAVIER.EDU. IF YOU BELIEVE YOU HAVE REACHED THIS MESSAGE IN ERROR, PLEASE CONTACT THE ADMINISTRATOR.
Logan closed the email. He went through the instructions for forwarding emails from this address to Storm's. And the erased the "deleted items" folder. And he thought about clicking and dragging the folder marked "Jean", but he didn't.
Logan stood up and switched off the computer. There were some things that shouldn't be erased.