xp_logs | Hank, Scott, Sunday evening

Backdated to Sunday evening.... Hank and Scott try to resolve their differences face to face. Hank is depressed and doubting his own place in the Mansion, and Scott is still angry. Although they start off trying to be conciliatory, a fight - another fight - is inevitable, and this time they say what they've been trying to say all along.

Hank tapped lightly on the open door. "Hey," he said quietly. Scott was in the Situation Room, working, again. Shades of their last real conversation, there. "Got a few minutes for an old friend who hasn't been handling things well lately?"

Scott looked up, saving the file he'd been working on with a couple of quick keystrokes. "Come on in," he said. "I wasn't avoiding you - just needed to get some of this work done."

Hank nodded. "You're easy to find, usually," he said, smiling a little. "When somethin'gs bothering you, you're almost always either here, or in your office."

"I'm not hiding out, Hank," Scott said simply, but didn't go any further into that. Not important at the moment. "Want to sit down?"

"I didn't say you were." Hank raised an eyebrow. "You work when something's bothering you." He sat down. "I want to apologize," he said quietly. "For making you feel personally attacked, and for doing so publically."

"Apology accepted." Scott sighed, shrugging his shoulders to get rid of some of the tension. He'd been typing for a few too many hours in a row, he suspected. "And I'm sorry for my tone. I really shouldn't have snapped like that. Maddie was absolutely right about the lack of professional distance I was exhibiting."

Hank nodded. "I know I didn't handle the situation well," he agreed. "It's all right." Was it, though? They hadn't really talked since their last painful conversation.

"Is it?" Scott grimaced a little. "It seems to be happening a lot with us lately," he pointed out.

"It does. And I've apologized, and I'll do so again.... so far, you've proved to be right on every point." He looked down at his hands. "I really should stop trying to butt in."

"Hank, don't say that." Scott bit his lip. "Why do you do that?" he asked, a bit irritably. "You back down like that, and it's like you don't have enough respect for me to debate the point with me."

"Why wouldn't I back down?" Hank scowled. "Your way worked, mine wouldn't have. And thanks to my... unprofessional conduct, we know that everyone else who cared to comment agreed that I was wrong."

"You're not the only one who thought I was wrong in how I handled it," Scott said, thinking about how Lorna had very quietly yet pointedly removed herself. "Fundamentally wrong, I mean, not just in the sense of not informing the staff at large what I was doing."

"I didn't think you were wrong, exactly," Hank said quietly. "I did think removing the empaths - and Jean - from the scene was a good idea. But Manuel... I may only have studied psychology for one semester, as part of my medical degree, but in my opinion, the boy is a borderline sociopath. I was afraid that he would take the lack of opposition as approval." He sighed. "But, as was also pointed out to me, he is Charles' responsibility, to discipline as to teach, and I should keep my big blue nose out of it." Whether or not he was concerned about the safety of the other students.

"Hank, answer me something... do you honestly believe that you could successfully discipline him?" Scott's fingers tapped out a brief, aggravated rhythm on the edge of the desk. "Do you think anyone but Charles can? Nathan... Nathan, our impossibly stubborn telepathic ex-Spartan, actually quit. Said he couldn't handle it anymore and gave responsibility for Manuel back to Charles."

"I believe I could successfully express disapproval of his behaviour, yes. I sincerely doubt that it would change his behaviour, but at least it wouldn't have been tacit approval." Hank looked away, his jaw tense. "I may not be able to control him, Scott, but that doesn't mean I can't tell him he's out of line."

"And it would have rolled right off his back, or worse, fed this complex he has that the rest of us don't really care about how the atmosphere at the mansion affects him," Scott said crossly. "I'm not excusing what he said, and Charles will deal with it in a way that makes an impression. But it's less clear-cut than you think." He stopped, closing his eyes, and removed his glasses for a moment, massaging his temples before he put the glasses back on. "And I think we're getting way off-track here, aren't we?"

Hank nodded. "I know I was wrong, Scott," he said quietly, looking down at his hands. "I've been... short-tempered, lately."

"Why?" Scott asked. Not harshly, but pointedly enough to indicate that yes, he did want an answer to the question and wasn't just asking.

Hank's fists clenched, and then slowly relaxed again. "Because I feel helpless," he said baldly. It was the first time he'd admitted it aloud. "And unneeded."

Scott blinked. And blinked some more. "... why?"

"Because there is nothing I can do here that can't be done by someone else... frequently better." Hank swallowed hard, trying to keep his voice level. "Because I am about to become a father, and I'm terrified, and there's nothing I can do about it. Because I know I care more for Maddie than she does for me and I'm afraid I'll mess it up somehow and lose her. Because I can't help anyone, and everything I try to do lately seems to be wrong."

Scott stared at him for a long moment. "Okay," he said, more calmly. "First, explain that? Secondly... I certainly can't blame you. Thirdly, how do you know that?"

"First..." Hank ticked them off on his fingers. "Forge is a better inventor than I am. Moira is a better research scientist. Jean is back and you don't need me in the medlab anymore. Jean and Madelyn are both capable of going along on a mission if they're needed. Hell, Haroun is handling the Blackbird, you don't even need me for that anymore. What use am I? I can't even get the students to talk to me, these days." His voice cracked. "I can't even get YOU to talk to me these days."

Scott closed his eyes for a second. Where to start? "I don't know what to say about Forge," he said, very softly, "apart from the fact that he needs someone like you rather badly, I think. Just because he can invent... basically anything, doesn't mean that he doesn't need guidance in what he does with it."

He paused for a moment, taking a deep breath. "I can't speak to why you might feel out of place in the medlab, although I didn't think that your specialties overlapped that much with the others. And Moira would be horrified if she thought you thought she was displacing you, Hank." He reached out for his coffee cup, taking a sip before he went on. "Jean is not capable of going along on any kind of a mission these days and may not be for quite some time. What nearly happened to Madelyn on Youra is a good example of why being our field medic is a little more dangerous for her than it is for you. When it comes to the Blackbird... well, you don't want to know how much time it took me to adapt to Haroun having that responsibility. And as for the students..." He looked up at Hank with a slight, self-deprecating smile. "Do any of us manage to get them to talk to us?"

He didn't answer the last point. Not just yet.

"You're all doing better than me," Hank said quietly. "At least they respect you." He supposed he deserved it, having been away so much... but the only students who seemed to respect him now were those like Kitty and Doug, who would be too polite to let it show even if they didn't. "I just... I'm used to being needed," he said miserably. "And while it might be easier having me around... there's nothing I do that couldn't be done by someone else, were I to leave. I miss knowing that you all needed me. That I could contribute something more than convenience."

"Just because people can do what you do doesn't mean that they can do it better than you can," Scott said quietly, after a moment. "It doesn't mean they have the experience, or the perspective, that you can bring to a situation."

Hank laughed humourlessly. "And such a lot of experience and perspective I've been bringing to things lately."

"You know, I'd be the biggest hypocrite in the world if I actually had the gall to tell you to stop kicking yourself," Scott said, raising an eyebrow, "but hypocrisy or not, it doesn't do a whole lot of good."

"It might help me keep my big trap shut next time," Hank said grimly. "You were right. Those of us who don't have anything useful to contribute should stay out of it."

Scott leaned back in his chair. "You don't feel like you can do anything right," he said. "You're questioning all your decisions, feeling like what you do do is futile... like it's never enough." His intent expression faded a little. "I do get it, Hank," he said more quietly.

"That's more or less it," Hank said quietly. "Some things are going right, others are going more and more wrong... and there's absolutely nothing I can do about any of them. In fact, trying to act will only make everything worse"

"Sometimes acting is the wrong thing to do," Scott said slowly. "In tactical situations, at least - I've learned that. Acting too fast, without being sure... it's more likely to blow up in your face that way."

Hank nodded. "And so I do nothing," he said quietly. "I spend my nights in an empty medlab, I wrote my finals weeks ago... I'm helpless, Scott. There's nothing I can do... and, therefore, how can I be needed? I'm not contributing anything."

"I don't think you're right about that," Scott said with a sigh, "but if you're feeling that way, Hank, something needs to be done about it." He offered a faint smile. "Although I'm kind of at a loss, here. Taking some time off might be a good idea... I know that doesn't answer the question, but surely you've got preparations to make for the baby and the like."

"I do." Hank nodded, looking down at his hands. "I... had hoped we'd be seeing more eye-to-eye, by now." He'd wanted to ask Scott to help him paint the nursery... the two of them and Alex, together...

"I don't actually like disagreeing with you, Hank," Scott said, more tiredly than anything else at Hank's words. "But you keep putting me on the defensive."

"I don't mean to," Hank said quietly. "I just... I came to talk to you, about the baby, and... you know how long I've wanted this, and yet you weren't happy for me. You didn't even manage a smile." He gave Scott an almost pleading look. "I... it hurt. That someone so important to me didn't seem to care."

"You're wrong." He said it calmly enough, but there was a touch of real anger under the surface of his voice. "And you're being immensely unfair, Hank. I am happy for you, and I think you'll make a good father. But you expecting a certain level of demonstrative behavior, from me of all people, and then making it so clear when you didn't get it that I was letting you down? I was furious with you."

"A smile, Scott. I would have settled for a smile." Hank took a deep breath. "And I know it was unfair. That doesn't mean it didn't hurt. I knew it was petty and selfish even at the time, but... for the first time in a long time, Scott, something really good happened to me. I've shared in your joys over the years.... it hurt that you wouldn't or couldn't share mine."

"Do you not know me, Hank? By now?" He could have pointed out that he had damned well smiled - hadn't he? Surely he hadn't suddenly mastered the perfect stone-faced expression at the worst possible moment. - but he wasn't playing this game. He was trying not to seethe, not to pass that down the link to Jean, but it was hard. "Because you're sounding a hell of a lot like the people who don't know me, who look at the surface and think what they see is all that's there. And you're being melodramatic."

"I know," Hank said miserably. "But I'm *afraid*, Scott! I'm old and useless and afraid and I just..." He took a deep, unsteady breath. "I just need to be sure you do care," he whispered. "Because even I can't be sensible and mature and rational all the time, and I'm the one having the crisis of self-confidence now. You know how hard it is, how nothing seems dependable anymore, as if you could lose everything in an instant..." He met Scott's eyes. "I've always tried to be there when you needed me," he said softly. "Now I need you. It's stupid and melodramatic and I'll be as embarrassed as hell about losing it like this tomorrow... but I need to know that I'm not going to lose you too."

"Hank..." Words failed him for a moment. "Who have you lost?" Scott finally asked, honestly perplexed. "You have colleagues who respect you. You can't deny that, whatever you feel about your place in the medlab these days. You have a wonderful woman you're building a relationship with, you're about to become a father... and I'm honestly not getting why you think, for a moment, that I ever wouldn't be there when you need me."

"Because things always go wrong!" Hank growled, bringing a hand down on the table so hard it dented slightly. "With Trish, with Alison... with my powers, with my LIFE... it always goes wrong! And now something's going right and I am terrified that that just means that the inevitable going wrong that's coming will be even worse!"

Scott shook his head. "Welcome to our world, Hank," he said, steadily, if somewhat fiercely. "The worst-case scenario is always lurking around the corner. We either learn to balance the fear with living in the now, or we drive ourselves into the ground anticipating the worst and wind up losing it all."

Hank's shoulders slumped. "You just said that you'd be there when I need you," he said quietly. "But I need you now, Scott... and you're not here." He stood up. "Congratulations, by the way," he added quietly. "You and Jean... I'm glad you're happy."

"What do you WANT?" Touchy knee or not, Scott could move fast when he had to, and he was out of his chair and between Hank and the door before Hank could reach it. "You judgemental ass," he snapped, considerably more heatedly than he'd intended. "This is me, Hank. If you want a pat on the head, you came to the wrong door. If you took what I just said as me pushing you away, you have completely forgotten everything you ever knew about me."

He took a deep breath. It didn't do much to help the anger. "You know what? I can't really sympathize with you. Your crisis of confidence is not a whole hell of a lot like the one I had, because I kept fighting. They had to drug me and keep me in the medlab for two days in order to make me stop. I was driving myself into the ground. You are just giving up."

"I am NOT giving up!" Hank yelled back. "You are the ONLY person who knows, the only person I trusted enough to tell! And all you can say is 'that's how life is?' I have been there for your every grief and triumph, Scott, I have put aside everything for you, my envy and my despair and I was happy for you and this is the first time I have ever asked this of you! I have protected you when you were afraid, held you when you were grieving, and now for the first time in your life I am asking you to do the same for me! Because I have never been as afraid as I am now, Scott, because I've never had so much to lose before!" His eyes were full of tears, but he was too angry to notice them. "I didn't come to you for a pat on the head, Scott, I came to try to fix things between us, because you are the one really important thing that I've never had to worry about losing until now. I have lost lovers and friends and allies and I've fought with Charles and with Moira at times and other friends have drifted away and I lost Jean too, in case you've forgotten, who was as dear to me as a sister could be, and you are the one person I've never lost, Scott! Don't you understand that? And I can't seem to stop making things go wrong between us and I just..." Suddenly he ran out of steam, swallowing hard and staring at the floor. "Do you have any idea how important you are to me? I don't call you 'little brother', as a joke, Scott."

"So suddenly, what I can give you isn't important because you want... what? Your own reaction, reflected back from me?" Scott snarled at him. "Somehow, the fact that I lived through my own crisis of confidence, what I learned from that... it's not important because it's not in the form that you want? That is SO unfair, Hank! I am NOT YOU!"

He gritted his teeth, telling himself to stop yelling, meticulously shielding over the link so that he didn't upset Jean. "I am sorry," he said, biting off each word, "that I've disappointed you so much. That I'm cold, and closed off, and ungrateful." That came out in a snarl. Because it was what Hank was saying, whether he wanted to come right out and use that word or not. "I always thought that you understood that even if I wasn't you, I would never fail you. I would never not be there."

"I don't expect you to be me," Hank said unsteadily, still staring at the floor. "I just don't understand why you've been shutting me out. I know we've disagreed, but we've done that before. And I've tried to apologize. Tried to make it right. But you just keep getting more distant, and then I do something else that's wrong and there's nothing I can do to fix that either, and... Scott, I'll never disagree with you again, publically or privately, if that's what it takes. And I'm sorry that I've let my own insecurities make you feel as if I don't trust you and your judgement. But as you aren't me, so I am not you. You kept fighting until you had to be sedated. I thought I could come to you, that you would help, because I needed help. I'm sorry that I can't handle this the way you think I should, Scott. And I'm sorry if I've asked more of you than you can give. But.... a year ago, it wouldn't have been. I was hoping it wouldn't be now."

Scott opened his mouth, then closed it again, gazing at Hank for a long moment. "You're doing it again," he finally said. "You're coming to me wanting help, and you're doing exactly what's been causing the problems between us in the first place. You're trying to shame me into doing something, or feeling in a certain way... and I'm reacting in exactly the predictable way." He took a deep breath, letting it out slowly. Not moving from in front of the door.

"I hate it," he finally said, almost hissing the words out. "You don't have any idea... you can't. What it's like to know that the button's there to be pushed, that I'll probably never get rid of it." He shook his head. "Never mind," he said. "Just tell me, Hank. Tell your ungrateful little brother what you need. Spell it out for him, since he's obviously too dense to understand."

"You already gave it to me," Hank said quietly, finally meeting Scott's eyes. "You told me what I was doing wrong. Why I couldn't fix things. Scott, I never intended to shame you into anything. Nor to make you feel anything. I thought we were close enough to disagree, sometimes. I thought we were close enough that you would understand that sometimes even I can be unfair and unreasonable, and that I didn't mean for it to hurt you. I.... never thought you'd think I was trying to manipulate you. I didn't think you'd think that of me." And it hurt, but at least he understood now. "I'm sorry, Scott. I would give anything not to have hurt you like that. And I won't do it again. I'll... keep things professional." He took a deep breath. "I know I probably can't fix this, and that I've only made things worse here today. I hoped that if I explained, if you understood why I've been trying so hard to do something, anything, that might make a difference, you'd understand and stop being mad at me. That things would be okay. Obviously that was the wrong way to go about things, and I'm sorry."

"You... big, blue... nitwit." Bizarre choice of words, but it came out feelingly enough. Scott glared up at him. "Henry McCoy, you are an ass. And I'm crazy, all right? I freely admit that. I mimick functionality much better than I did six months ago, that's all. I'm crazy, and much more of a bastard than I used to be, and the prospects of getting laid again regularly are probably not going to change that."

Hank's expression was interesting. Scott stopped for air. "But that does not mean that I don't love you, you idiot. And that isn't going to change, even if you decide to piss me off on a weekly basis from now until next Christmas."

Hank couldn't help laughing slightly hysterically at the use of 'nitwit'. "Yes, well, you're going to have to get used to sharing the Unstable Hat sometimes," he said, smiling a little. "I know that I've been coping... or pretending to... for so long that my being petulant and unreasonable comes as a shock, but between prospective parenthood and Maddie and fighting with you... every now and then, it gets too much for me, and I wind up saying something I regret later. Usually to you." He reached out to touch Scott's shoulder gently. "I really am sorry that I made you feel that way," he said softly. "It was totally unintentional, and it won't happen again. I love you too, little brother... even if you are a crazy bastart who keeps being aggravatingly smarter than me at crucial moments."

"We're supposed to surpass our elders. I thought that was a rule." Scott took a deep breath, let it out, and continued more calmly. "This is not me passing the buck, Hank, but you do really need to see Charles. If this is affecting you to this extent, influencing all your reactions... there's a reason he's the man with the tea, and I'm the man cracking the whip in the Danger Room."

"I'll be all right, now," Hank said quietly. "It's... as long as I know that we're okay. The baby will be born soon - probably within a week, actually, I may need to have a word on the subject of Dani and finals. It's... the waiting, that's getting to me. And not knowing why I couldn't fix what was wrong." He smiled ruefully. "Maddie's right. I'm a big blue doofus sometimes. She smiles when she says it, though, so I don't think it's put her off yet." He saw Scott's implacable expression. "And yes, all right, the doofus will go suck up a quart or two of Earl Grey."

"Good. Because I would have hated to have to sic Jean on you. That would have been a low but effective strategy." Scott closed his eyes again, just for a moment. "I am a bastard," he said more quietly, "but it was the only way, Hank. It hurt too much, when I wasn't, and there was no way out, wherever I looked. Making myself let things go, keep a distance... it was all I could do. I didn't ever mean to use the armor against the people I love... or maybe I did. Because those were the people I was hurting, or failing..." He looked up at Hank again with a faint smile. "Like I said. I'm crazy. I'm just learning to live with it."

"I understand," Hank said softly. "And I am more sorry than I can say that I couldn't help. I've been caught up in my own troubles, lately, and I haven't been as aware of yours as I should." He returned Scott's smile. "Do you think you could manage to un-let-go enough to grip a paintbrush? I have a nursery to paint, and a baby arriving in a week at most. It is traditionally the part of uncles to be pressed into manual labour, I understand."

"Green and yellow?"

Hank nodded. "Green and yellow. Shades of each that I agonized over for hours." He smiled ruefully. "You know, most new parents don't have to worry about whether they'll clash with the walls..."

Scott tapped his glasses. "Simplifies things. Seeing the word in shades of red, I mean. And save the rose-colored glasses joke," he said severely as Hank opened his mouth. "Or I really will knock you on your ass. I mean, I've already restrained myself two or three times in the course of the conversation..."

Hank grinned. "Oh, as if you could. I weigh more than twice what you do." He smiled. "I won't put any more pressure on you," he said more seriously. "But... it would be nice, if you and Alex and I could do it together." He grinned. "I will not, however, make you apply any of the cute ducky decals to the furniture."