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."

"Sure?"

"<Positive>," she responded telepathically.

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. Okay?"

"Understand, boss."

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 afternoon."

"I would love to, but why not, Scott?"

Jean leaned in closer to Ororo and responded, "It's, um, some girl things."

"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."

"Cecila?"

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!"

"<Do you want to hear me scream!>"

"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 accent.

"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."

"Okay. Understood."

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.

"Sorry."

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."

fin