#thread timeline

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"Accidents," with Will "Into the Unown," with Volkner "An Unscheduled Visit," with Malva "Fetch Quest," with Silver "Poor, Unfortunate Soul," with Giovanni "Into the Dragon's Mouth," with Morty "Unwelcome," with Fire "#following," with Skye "The Exposure Effect," with Giovanni "Om Nom!" with Dennis "Of Apt Names," with Barker

They wouldn’t remember. No one would, aside from Logan, herself, and perhaps Xavier, the rest of the world would go on with their lives—-living, and she would once again suffer the very same numbness she had succumbed to once before. With all the commotion occurring around her, metal being thrown, Xavier pleading with Raven, Raven pushing through—attempting to ignore him, the gun held high just waiting to be utilized, to assassinate and murder…the murder that would change it all, change her, change the existence of the mutant race, change everything that Logan and herself had jumped back in time to attempt to sojourn, as she had done several times over in different instances, different time periods.

Time travel was far from a foreign concept for Rachel. She wasn’t even sure where she belonged any longer. After her mother’s death, the great many attempts to stop it—and the inevitable outcome, she had grown wary and exhausted. Charles had once warned her, told her, that no matter the great many efforts, the general outcome would always remain the same. Destiny was cruel, fate was cruel, she would never see her mother, her father, those she loved and cherished most, again…and as she stood there, eyes dewy with anticipation and agony awaiting the outcome of Raven’s final decision, breath held, the world spinning—-a deep heave of air filtered her lungs as a single tear sauntered down her peach-toned complexion as Mystique made her choice, turning about-face and shooting Erik right on the side of the neck if only to impair him.

Did that just happen? Had she and Logan succeeded? Her shoulders, once raised as she attempted to gather her thoughts, roaming from here and there, one realm to the next, the headache catapulting her into a fit of agony, pounding against her skull as she attempted to stay grounded rather than rocky as could happen when she was using so much energy to be where she was in that historical moment from the past. A loud screeching filtered her ears as she collapsed to her knees and she cried out in pain from the migraine latching itself to her electrolytes distilling her natural thought. Then, just like that…blackness, warm and familiar, she welcomed it.

The familiar sound of her alarm clock resonated, playing “Creep” by Radiohead ever so lightly in the background. Her ears perked, and she sat up, groggy and slightly bewildered she took in a sharp inhale through her nostrils as her palms fixated upon her mattress, pressing her weight upward and lifting her so she could push the comforter from her lanky limbs. She drew her palms to meet her face as she delicately rubbed her closed eyelids and huffed, turning about to take in her surroundings.

Back within the familiarity and confines of a homestead she recognized, the not-too-distant-future, as she knew it, her gorgeous auburn curls streamed down her shoulders, in a similar fashion to her mother’s; the way she had remembered before—- She withdrew the very thought and instead stumbled towards the long-view mirror within her room…Obviously the future had been altered, in a good sense. She was still alive, the school was still standing…and her hair was a mess. She grimaced and sauntered to the vanity in the far right corner, snatching up her brush and drawing it through her elongated curls.

She was in an iconic “Guns ‘N Roses” t-shirt, two sizes too big for her figure and red gym shorts, something she had remembered tossing on for bed ten times fold…a distant memory but a good one from the school. To her this felt like just a normal day, just as any, but without fear of the Sentinels, without fear of being kidnapped and turned into a Mutant ‘hound’ and forced to stalk and hunt down those who were like her…not used as a pawn in the disgusting war against humanity. “Rachel?” came Logan’s conversant voice from behind the double-doors of her wing. She sighed, drawled and used her mental capability to swing the doors open for his entry. She turned and looked over her shoulder at him quickly noting the furrowed brow and his confused expression. “Rach,” He nodded with a deep pant. She sat the brush down upon the cherry wood surface of the vanity and blinked, drawing her own brow tightly together.

“Logan…” She began skeptically. “Something—-everything…it’s changed.” He insisted with a husky voice as if he were near out of breath, surprising for the man with such agility. She quirked a brow upward and shrugged her shoulders. “We saved them.” She nodded, as if it was nothing at all…and to her, quite frankly, it was. For a girl who had traveled across time waves before and failed greatly, she was merely happy to be home, back in her bed. – A 17 year old teenage mutant, at Xavier’s School for Gifted Youngsters, who barely aged as time came and went by, who harbored through generations of mutant brutality and attempted to flip the switch, save the mutant community, humans and mutants alike who band together to keep each other safe, for the greater good—all that jazz. She’d done this far too many times and recognized the outcome was as any other day.

At least now she was fully aware that the Sentinel program was put to rest, that Trask was put behind bars for his actions against the United States, and that everyone survived. It never occurred to her to think of the greater outcome from all of this, how far beyond what they had done, how it had changed everything else entirely. She took a closer look in the mirror, observing as the scars faded from her cheekbones, scars that she had to hide mentally from everyone else, with bits of makeup and telepathy that had been placed there from many failed attempts of jumping through portals. The scars faded completely, which meant something else had to have altered…perhaps everything?

Eyes growing wide and slightly dewy she withdrew her gaze from the mirror and rested it upon Logan, meeting him with the same doe-eyed expression he’d provided her. “Y—you don’t think that…” She tossed the brush onto the vanity and darted to his side. The pair quickly darted into the long hallway, as if in slow motion they surveyed their surroundings witnessing as the crowd of students filtered into their given classrooms. Then finally came that familiar winded stairwell and Logan came to a rapid halt. His chocolate hues rested upon a figure in the doorway of Charles’ office wing. Jaded irises dancing against a bed of tears rested in the direction of his eyesight, and she saw her too, long red hair and all. Logan very slowly slipped down the stairs, stumbling forward until he finally uttered her name.

“Jean?” He stuttered. “Hi Logan.” She had said, her voice soft, music to Rachel’s ears. She closed her eyes, allowing the tears to stream down her face, her hands shaking as a smile warmed her features and she gasped. She had done it. They had done it. After all this time.

After all that fighting—-her mother was standing right before them. As Logan reached out to touch her mother’s hair, Rachel grimaced knowing precisely what he was thinking. She snarled slightly as she trotted down to the last remaining steps about to lunge forward herself when a snap of a hand reached out and removed his gesture. Rachel gasped, eyes growing wider as her father stepped into view. Ever so elated, Rachel could have toppled over just then in relief. Instead she kept her steady gaze upon the sight in front of her.

Of course, they would not have remembered ever dying, ever leaving her side, and in that Rachel’s bewildering actions may have puzzled them quite terribly but she did not care. Shaky, she stepped forward, brushing her lips together as she suppressed the loud sobs of liberation. Without a second thought, Rachel flew into Scott’s arms and hugged him tightly. She trembled into his embrace and he muttered some pondering if she’d had a nightmare or something fierce and all she could do was hug him, hold him, and smile. She pulled back from the hug and shook her head, pushing her hair from off her face, sticking to her wet skin.

“I’m okay.” She insisted, beaming. “More than okay.” She nodded before she planted her eyes upon her mother, in which she felt the wind practically knocked out of her. Her mother, her life blood, the woman who gave her life and loved her unconditionally, was standing right before her when she had died what felt like years and years and years prior. Rachel collapsed to her knees in open ugly-sobs before she covered her face into her hands, gasping and sighing in sheer release she knew that Xavier recognized as he wheeled over. At long last, she had succeeded at the one thing she had always failed to do.

“Rachel?” Charles’ voice spoke up. He leaned forward and placed a gentle palm upon her back. When her eyes rose to meet his, he provided the most comforting and aware expression he could muster, enabling her to know that he knew just what was going on: that he knew of the hardship, of how much she and Logan had endured to help him, save him, save them all. “Logan.” Xavier began again, removing his focus from her to the man standing just as flummoxed off to the side. “Don’t you have a class to teach? History.” He mused. Logan chuckled mentioning something about being a bit fuzzy in which Xavier responded how he knew and as they strolled along together, inquired further as to what was the last thing he could remember.

Rachel was helped to her feet by her father, and he planted a soft kiss upon her head. She didn’t shy away like she may have done before; instead her gaze rested upon her mother as she sniffed back the tears before she batted her long lashes and grinned at her father, laughing lightly. She was just too happy for words. “I have to get to class. I love you.” He said, giving a nod to Jean. “I’ll see you girls later.” Rachel nodded, gathering her thoughts at what all of this could have meant…how much the school must have changed. “Bye Dad—-I love you.” She called out, she herself even surprised at the last utterance as her brow drew together. He chuckled, and with a shake of his head he turned the corner leaving Jean and Rachel to what would have otherwise been just any other day, but it wasn’t, not to her.

Breathing softly now, chest rising and falling she merely gauged her mother before she urgently drew forward and wrapped her arms tightly around her frame. “I’ve missed you so much.” Her voice quivered, even knowing it would sound absolutely absurd to Jean.

But Rachel paid no mind. If only she were aware of the utter heartbreak her own child had to endure, having to inflict her mother with such pain, the blades stabbing through her stomach to bring the Phoenix to a conclusion…how in this timeline? None of that had even happened.

       The sun directly on the mansion and in any other circumstance, Jean would have been happy about this fact. She loved the heat~ she loved the way it felt on her skin, it warmed her porcelain skin turning into a flush pink color which looked like she was blushing all over. She would been happy… if it had no been the thing that woke her up that morning. It was only known to a few that Jean was a deep sleeper; no amount of whispered ‘get up’s’ would have stir her, nor push or shoves either. It had been a long twenty years for Scott to finally realize that. But also in that twenty year time span, he had found out the one thing that brought her out of dreamland. Light. And lot’s of it. 

       Amber orbs, that were now a shade of gold, looked up at the viciously bright light that shone down on her. She quickly squeezed shut, a deep groan escaped the mutant’s lips as she turned onto her stomach       pushing her head further into her pillow in an attempt to get away from the prying light that chased away her dreams. The curtain was obnoxiously opened a sliver, the small slit falling directing on her eye-line.

                                                        ⋘ Damn you, Scott ⋙                                     ⋘ I did tell you to get up. You wouldn’t listen ⋙                                                  ⋘ Or couldn’t. I was asleep ⋙ 

                                             There was silence between the pair.

                                       ⋘ Well you are now, meet me down at the                                        Professor’s office. He wants to speak with us.                                                            The both of us, Jean ⋙  

                                                                Another silence.

                                                                   ⋘ Erghhh ⋙                                                             ⋘ I’ll take that as a                                                            ‘I’ll be right down’ then ⋙

      She had to laugh despite herself, a hand coming up to wipe back the hair from her eyes. Jean sighed happily, even though her entrance to the new day was not one she particularly wanted to go through again       she had the feeling today was going to be a good day. She stretched out like a cat, her toes curling and her arms raising above her head. The doctor made work of getting herself ready, with a quick bounce out her bed and a beeline to her hair-comb; Jean had started her day. 

       Quickly and meticulously, she dressed herself… choosing that red dress she had brought herself the week before. Applying a small layer of makeup to her face, she quickly tucked her feet into some small heels before standing up. Jean smiled happily at her reflection in the mirror, she had to admit it; forty two and she still had it. She laughed before exiting her room in the same haze she had previously been getting ready in.

      The telekinetic was about to walk down the hallway on route to her mentor’s office before she stilled suddenly. She turned to the first door on her left, the one right next to her’s and Scott’s; Rachel’s room. She thought about going in for a moment, a polished hand coming up to tap the door but she stopped herself just in time. She breathed before closing her eyes tightly. She could feel her there… in her mind. Her baby was sound asleep, dreaming away wondrously       she wished she was with her too on that one.

       Jean smiled lightly before retreating back into her own consciousness, she didn’t want to pry after all. She decided against waking her, as she knew her alarm was bound to go off any minute, she would let her get her last few minutes of peace before she was placed back in this world of chaos. The way down to the Professor’s office was the usual sight of the hussle and bussle that was the school. And to top all that, it was a mutant school so seeing the occasional child pop out of nowhere in a cloud of smoke wasn’t exactly shocking. But being so accustomed to such bizarre events, the X-Woman went through it all without even raising her head nor reacting to some of the colorful thing’s her students were doing.

      A few minutes later, she was at the Professor’s office       she tried to look at annoyed as she came face-to-face with Scott was the door. A small knowing smile pulling at his lips. She would find herself turning to look at that same smile throughout the less-then-important meeting that she was forced to get up for. It was the usual conversation about making their lessons seem as ‘normal as possible’, the same conversation they had over-and-over again from the day they applied as tutor’s. She smiled anyway, deciding to keep on her tutor’s good side today. After all, she was in no mood to go another rant about this.  

     Half way through the meeting, she stood up and idly walked to the back of his office and poured herself a cup of strong coffee from his machine. She tried not to notice the arched eyebrow that was aimed her away from the Professor, pressing the cup to her lips to smooth out the smile that threatened to lay there. She drunk the caffeine happily, suddenly feeling a lot better and the words being spoke seemingly become more clearer. She sighed as she placed the empty cardboard cup into the small bin that was stood by the door to his office.

     The meeting was over and Jean was more than ready to sneakily run back up to her room to get a few more hours shut-eye before her lessons had to start. But before she could slip away, she heard her name being called over her shoulder. Logan…and Rachel. Together? The scene that took place before her, bewildered her beyond belief, she stood there quietly trying to figure out what the hell was going on. Jean shook her head laughing, suddenly feeling idiotic. Nothing was wrong, it was just Rachel… being Rachel. She welcomed the hug whole-hardheartedly, it was something hard to come by these days, apparently it was ‘cool’ to hug your parents in public. So, why was she doing it now… and so emotionally? She blamed teenage hormones.

                                      “          It’s only been… twelve hours?”

He was drifting; teetering on the edge of a restless sleep, when he felt Jean shift against him, her warm breath against his skin.  And when she pulled back and spoke, the warmth faded, leaving him cold and longing for her to return.  ”Sorry, Jean,” he murmured, eyes struggling to open.  It took a moment, but he finally got them to cooperate, smiling back at her. “Just one of those nights, I guess.  I can go sleep on the couch if I’m buggin’ you.”

Jean leant forward so her chin was leaning on his collarbone as she continued to look at him. It had been ten weeks since she had overpowered the Phoenix and came back to herself. It had taken her this long to even act like she used to, though most of the time she felt as though she was faking all of it, Jean could feel it become more and more real. They shared a bed ever since that first night, but neither of them did anything but just linger into uneasy sleep.

They’d touch, snuggle into each other and now and again kiss… but nothing more. It would be a long road until they felt like they were ‘allowed’ to do that. In some senses, Jean still felt as though she belonged to another and she didn’t want to get too deep with Logan without feeling like she could be with him wholeheartedly. But it was pretty evident to everyone around them that they were together, despite what they said.

"No…no." She whispered into the darkness. Her hand came up to press small soothing circles to his upper-chest. "I’m just worried about you…. talk to me.”

Her soothing touch and worried tone has him rousing further to wakefulness, blinking a few times before offering her a warm smile.  Even with the vague, unsettling recollection of disturbing memories lingered, Logan found it easy to ignore the ghosts of his past. How could he let that bother him, when his present looked so promising.

"You know me," Logan murmured, shifting to lie on his side as his left hand found her hip and rested there.  His thumb stroked a circular pattern, shifting the thin fabric of Jean’s nightgown.  "I’m always okay.  It was just a dream.  Nothing to worry about."

It was mostly true, though his dreams lately were always about her, and he could hardly call them dreams.  Nightmares was definitely more appropriate.  Nightmares that he failed her. That she died.

That it was his fault.

"It’s still pretty early," Logan said after squinting at the digital clock display on the nightstand just over her shoulder.  "You should get some more sleep.  I promise I’ll be alright.  After the sun comes up I’ll make you breakfast in bed."

Jean made her disapproval known a deep growl before nuzzling further into him, with a quick buck of her hips she was smushed to his side with her head laying on his chest. “No- I want you to stay here.” His chest hairs tickled chin and she fought the urge to scratch.

The mutant closed her eyes and allowed herself to calm down to the sound of his heart beating beneath her head. Her steady breathing started to get more low and deep but she forced herself from getting even more pulled into sleep before raising her head and giving him a hard, squinted look.

"You can tell me about them you know."

There was no question of what she was talking about. His nightmares were always very personal to him, she knew that by the cold sweat he woke up with, night-after-night. It reminded her on the ones she used to have before that day on Lake Alkali but his were less about what could happen and more about had happened. To him — they were all memories lost to him.

But yet, he guarded them from her. And it was getting increasingly more irritating by the second. All she wanted to do was help. “You wont frighten me away.” She teased lightly but her stomach knotted tightly at the thought of that running through his head. Jean brought her hand up to his chin and forced Logan to look at her. 

"Spill."

Logan sighed beneath her hand, turning his gaze away from her face as the smile faded from his lips.  The last thing he wanted was to unload his burdens on her.  To reveal the terrible images his mind conjured up of her while he slept.  But the more often he was plagued by his dreams, the more she was going to try and talk him into telling her about them.

Jean was right, though.  She was tough and could handle it.  Somehow, though— irrational as it was —speaking these horrible thoughts aloud made them seem even more real.

"Jean…" The sigh that passed his lips with her name wasn’t exasperated, and he hoped it didn’t come off that way.  The urge to protect her, whether she needed it or not, was strong. Glancing back, though, and he knew by the look on her face, that he wasn’t going to talk his way out of this.

"Alright…alright!  But I tried to warn you." Logan threw up a hand and then let it fall to the bed before returning his eyes to the ceiling.  This would be easier if he didn’t look at her. "My dreams…they’re always about  you these days. We’re back at Alcatraz and The Phoenix—"

His voice caught in spite of himself, and he moved his arm to pull Jean a little closer to his side.  More reassurance for himself that she was here and alive.  ”She was destroying everything, and I had to stop her, but the only way I can is…you beg me to set you free; so I end up killing you.”

The next exhale is a shaky one, and Logan’s eyes dart about as if he’s trying to avoid the horrific images of his nightmares.

Jean’s face remained thoughtful, her gaze falling to intently scan his shoulders. She didn’t want to meet his eyes in fear of what she would find there. It had been months but that hurt        the hurt she felt constantly, was a glooming cloud of their life. No amount of sunshine or shaking it away would make it stop. Her heart ached.

Nothing she could do could make it all go away, all the pain, all the memories… all the grief. It pulsated through each other, neither of them truly getting past it before the other would join them on that voyage back to nightmare-land.  Her eyes snapped up as she felt herself being pulled closer, her gaze softening at his attempt to sooth himself and her.

A small, pale hand came up to rest on the mutant’s chest, gentling stroking at the rough chest hair that’s sprawled there. Jean stiffened at his words, even without an mental projection she could feel his angst       his pain and his sorrow.  It had all been real to him, it replayed and replayed in his mind as though time would suddenly click and right the wrong of her life. Or maybe even karma striking it’s course upon her.

A life for a life. Or two for that matter.

The fingertips that had been so intent on entwining themselves with his chest hair’s had now came to clasp roughly at his chin. Turning his gaze gently so matching amber orbs could meet once more. She had been silent through it all, through the nightmares, the schoolyard whispers, the government investigations and even through backstabbing from the people she once called friends. Payback was a bitch. But Jean could not stay tight-lipped through this.

Through it all, Logan was her constant. Bringing her back into world, giving her a shoulder to cry on, a hand to hold and an embrace to hide away from the world in. Now it was time for her to show the same respect for his feelings. She gave a ghost a smile, her eyes warming the dully lit room. "But you didn’t." She breathed. "I’m here       with you. In our bed.” She choked a laugh at her last words.

              Jean walked aimlessly down the bare hallway’s of Xavier’s, her cheeks were wet but her tears had stopped once she made her way into the safe haven that was this school. Very occasionally the students were allowed off the grounds to be with their families in an attempt of closure and she had thought she had been past that point. Months, maybe even a year—— Jean had been home for a few family events, Christmas and even popped in for Thanksgiving and they went as well as expected, not taking into consideration the empty conversations and stares her distant family members gave her. But today was her birthday. And they didn’t want her.

             No card. No present. Not even a phone call. So, the headstrong teenager made the choice herself to turn up at her family home without hesitation. And t-they… they shunned her. Told her to go H O M E. Home? This was her home. Well, that’s what she thought. But apparently they didn’t. Coming to a halt, the redhead allowed herself one last sob, all her pain spilling over her cheeks and smearing her makeup as they came and went. Everyone had long been to bed, but one light still remained on in the mansion but Jean was too lost in her self-loathing world to notice the footsteps coming closer and closer.

                             ”——————They don’t love me anymore.”

It wasn’t so hard for someone who had parents who didn’t yet know. Or, at least, so far as Kitty was aware they didn’t know.  She hadn’t exactly told them, at least.  If they had any inkling that she was a mutant, it was because of the odd circumstances surrounding the school.  It was sort of hard to ignore the weirdness in a private school from Westchester’s sudden interest in a girl from Illinois.  Much less Deerfield, Illinois.  So, perhaps they had thought of it, but they had yet to react to her any differently when she came home other than to eye              her suspiciously, as if they knew she wasn’t telling the truth.

Awoken in the middle of the night by the sudden need for something to drink, the brunette decided to pass up on water.  A cool glass of milk might help lull her back to sleep, as something about being up now seemed to have her wide awake.  With quiet footsteps, she had left her room and began to make her way down the hall when the soft sound of a pent up sob caught her attention, followed by pained words                                           that laced through the air like fragile ribbons.

 Her previous job had gone off without a hitch. One of her informants had told her about a man who had already burned down three houses, killing two people. Arson he had told her. And when she looked over the reports, the cause of the fires had been a mystery. No accelerants. No faulty wiring. No gas leaks. That’s when she had suspected that her informant was telling the truth, and so she hunted him down. No mercy. She wouldn’t have an arsonist in her city. And once the job was done she had gone home with a clean conscious, not feeling guilty in the least.

Her brother was at his house with Anya, he was taking care of his pregnant girlfriend. So, she wasn’t expecting anyone to drop by. And she had yet to clean up from her previous job, files of the man that had started the fires scattered through out her apartment. Her sniper was sitting on her coffee table, still needing to be cleaned. She had dropped everything on her way in, needing to shower from laying on the dirty roof for nearly two hours.

But when she finally stepped out of the shower, wrapped in nothing but a towel she heard her front door open. Her eyes narrowed at the fogged up window and she threw on some clothes quickly, before grabbing the gun she had hidden under her bathroom sink. She grabbed it before placing her back at the wall near her living room, where she heard the footsteps lead.

                   ”Don’t mo    .”

Her entire body froze at the sight of the fiery hair in her living room. Arm still raised with the pistol in it.

                   ”Fuck.”

   In a world in which she was forgotten, Jean Grey had become accustomed to stay as such       five years had past since she had rose as the Phoenix… three since she resurfaced once  again. And in that time she had spent lurking in the shadows, never reaching out to those who  needed nor missed  her.  It was better to  everyone she loved and cared about  that she stayed away… that she stayed dead. Even with nothing, no-one, Jean had managed to make a small life for  herself.  Quiet and quaint, such a  contrast to the chaotic life she once led. And surprisingly, she kind of enjoyed it. There  was nobody was around  that knew who she was, knew what she could do.  No-one to fear her,  judge her or… tell her who and what she was. She could just        be.  Be and live.  She could finally  concentrate of herself without anybody butting in… except for Jane.  Oh, Jane. She was another difference in her life. One big, glorious  difference. It had happened so suddenly that hadn’t realized what was happening until it… happened.

    And it was great.  After  Scott  she never thought she was be able to move on, mind falling in  love again       especially with a woman. But she was over-thinking it, in this new life she had fallen into a good place and she was determined to stay there. Even if it meant sticking her  head in the sand. Whistling happily to herself, Jean practically hopped over to Jane’s apartment door before retrieving her spare key from under the her doormat, for someone as private as Jane you would think she of somewhere better to hide it. She  smiled at the thought,  she blind-fully  walked into the apartment without a second thought       in a haze of routine,  stepping over her  mail before  picking it up. But before could turn to put it down something caught her eye… documents? Before she could  process  anything, out came Jane, wet-haired, flushed face and gun raised in and Jean froze, a quiet voice escaping her throat.

                 “….What the hell is going on?”

     Her mouth parted in surprise. Jean Grey. The woman who had entered her life and become someone important in a short amount of time. She let her gun drop to her side her shoulder’s drooping as she made herself relax. Jane had never told Jean what she did, she never told anyone that wasn’t in her immediate family what she did. She was proud of what she did, protecting the people in her city, but she knew for a fact most people would not agree with what she did. And she had no intention of losing someone like Jean because of what she did. She couldn’t lose the woman standing in her house. There weren’t many good things that Jane still had in her life, but Jean. God Jean was one of the best things she had in her life. The red head always managed to put a smile on her face and put her in a good mood. She wouldn’t let herself lose Jean. And if it came down to it and Jean somehow put the pieces together and asked her, Jane wouldn’t lie, only when Jean put the pieces together. Until then Jane would protect the other woman and try to hide just how much a monster she was. She put the gun in the back of her pants, safety on, and moved around the room, grabbing the various papers that she had laying around, wanting to get rid of anything that had to do with the job she had preformed earlier that day. “Look, Red, I uh, wasn’t expecting anyone over.” A cover story she needed a cover story. Shit. Think Jane, think.

                       ”Just um, some security detail I’m working.                         Needed a background check.”

     Believable. She glanced around before spotting her sniper on the table and throwing a jacket over it. Okay, so she was pretty much screwed. “Not that I’m not happy to see you. I’m always happy to see you Jeany.” While she was not only trying to get the other’s mind off of what she had just seen, and what she was still trying to clean up, it was the truth. Seeing Jean had become the highlight of most of her days. This could not be happening. She needed to hide her spare key better, or at lest make sure she cleaned up as soon as she got home, regardless of how tired she was or how long the job had taken.

Her entire body froze at the sight of the fiery hair in her living room. Arm still raised with the pistol in it.

                   ”Fuck.”