Scott and Madelyn, backdated to Monday night

[x-cyclops.livejournal.com]

Backdated to Monday night. Scott and Madelyn finally get that long-delayed game of pool. Scott's very cocky, and justifably so. The conversation wanders like a mad wandering thing.


"So what are we playing for this time?" Scott asked thoughtfully, leaning over the pool table and plotting out his first shot. "There needs to be some incentive, after all..." He glanced up at Madelyn, raising an eyebrow. "My promise to never wrap Hank in plastic wrap again?" he ventured with a quick smile.

Madelyn snickered from where she was leaning against the wall, chalking her cue. "Hank tried desperately hard to convince me how horrendous the smell was after, but he forgot I used to work forensics. That's one bad smell after another." Pursing her lips in thought, she considered the question. "I know - you win, I do night shift the next three times you and Jean want to go out. I win, Jean does the same for me. Deal?"

Scott opened his mouth, then closed it again, giving her a rueful look. "Using Jean in a bet... that might be something I find myself paying for after the fact. Then again," he said, donning the cocky grin. "That's assuming that there's any chance I'm going to lose."

"Oh, the man has confidence..." Madelyn mocked, still grinning. "Never underestimate a doctor when night shift is on the line. _Especially_ if there's a chance of hot sex in it as well," she added almost innocently, just as Scott took the shot.

It was a good thing Scott had long ago learned that one focused completely on a shot when one was playing with someone sneaky of the female persuasion. At least Maddie didn't have telekinesis to make it really unfair. Ball met pocket and he straightened, smiling blithely at her. "You must really like how peaceful the medlab is at three am," he suggested.

Damn his superior powers of concentration, Madelyn thought with a pout. "Damn, I thought I'd get you with that one," she said, watching him line up his next shot. "I'll have to try harder."

"This is pool, Madelyn," he pointed out, leaning over the table again. "No one 'gets' me in pool. With the possible exception of telekinetics, who all cheat like no one's business. Nathan's saving grace is that he's at least open about it. Jean, on the other hand, waxes indignant if you suggest that she's doing anything underhanded."

"Against such might, what chance does a mere human have?" Madelyn said with a melodramatic sigh. "Although I doubt Jean needs to use her TK that much to cheat - a low cut blouse and a short skirt would nicely derail you."

"I'm very transparent and very male, yes," Scott agreed cheerfully, taking another perfect shot. He couldn't help flushing a little, remembering a few times that Jean had indeed distracted him and the game had become the last thing on their minds. They had both, in the past, had something of a thing about pool tables.

Madelyn pulled a face. She was in trouble, and she hadn't even taken a shot yet. Happy Scott was harder to play than Stressed Scott. But the flush had been encouraging. "It's good to see," she said as he walked around the table to take another shot. "You being transparent and male. And the silly grin suits you so well."

"I should be stowing the grin, I suppose." Hmm. This one was trickier. "Given everything that's going on..." A frown crossed his face briefly as he regarded the table, one that had nothing to do with the layout of the balls. "You know, you'd think by now I wouldn't feel guilty for feeling happy just because not everyone around me is."

"Life goes on," Madelyn said simply. "If we shelved our personal happiness every time there was a crisis, the school would have gone the way of Jim Jones' cult a long time ago." Her expression turned rueful. "Or at least that's what I have to keep reminding myself. One of the reasons Hank and I haven't exactly been shouting from the rooftops is because people stand to be hurt if we do. It's... hard. For both of us, but Hank especially. He's such a romantic, all about the big gestures, and we're downplaying things because that's the sensible thing to do."

"Trust me," Scott said quietly. "I do understand that." His next shot was not quite so successful, and he grimaced, relinquishing the table to Madelyn. "So no stowing the grin." Not that what discretion he'd been exercising really meant much of anything, not when the person for whose sake you were trying to be discreet was a telepath.

"I thought you might," she said, flashing him a quick, wry smile before lining up her first shot. She sank the ball easily, and left herself nicely set up for a second. As always, her movements were neat, precise, nothing wasted. "Although if it helps? I think you don't have as much to worry about as you might have thought, in that department, at least."

"Delighted to hear that. Really," he said when she glanced up at him. "I mean that. It was..." He stopped, frowning a little, before he shook his head and went on. "I worry. She's been so... fragile at times, although she does seem to be a lot better than she was."

Madelyn could hear the trace of emotion under the almost-formal tones of his first words. If Scott sometimes sounded stilted, it was because he was feeling vulnerable and was retreating back to what he knew, the X-Man, the leader. She sunk the next ball and surveyed the table as she considered what next to say. "Betsy's... she's stronger now," she said at last. She couldn't sink anything with her next shot, so she settled for nudging the white ball as close to one of hers as she could so Scott would be forced to drop a shot. "Or rather, she always was, and she's found that again. The time away seems to have given her time to regroup, maybe find who she is again. After last year, identity would be a huge issue for her, and I think she went back to England to remember who she was, before the school and Kwannon."

"I'm actually glad she's going to be working with Remy and Jake. I know they need the help badly, and if she's got an opportunity to put her experience to work again I think that would only... help the regrouping." He raised an eyebrow at the results of Madelyn's shot, his mind already running through the angles. "Up to her in the end, though. I suppose it always was," he muttered, leaning over the table. Wishing that didn't sound like he was trying to convince himself that it didn't matter, that he hadn't been able to help."

"Good," Madelyn said, perhaps catching him by surprise a little considering her opinion of the Cajun. "I know what it's like, to do the training, amass the skills, and then to feel like they're useless," she elaborated. "It messes with your head, how you see yourself, your confidence... Betsy's not a teacher any more than Pete was. Better she do the thing she feels most capable doing than continue to struggle to be something she's not. Believe me, that way lies self-doubt, loss of confidence and scary amounts of psychotherapy." The last was said with a wink. "And your guilt complex might not want to hear it Scott, but yes, it is up to her. We can be there for her, help her, but she's the one that has to take the hand that's offered." She could have been talking about any number of mansion dwellers - refusing to accept help seemed to be the new trend.

"There's a question of flexibility, too," he said very quietly, still studying the table. "Some people can just... decide they want to change, and do it. I envy them." He leaned over the table and sank his next ball, easily getting out of Madelyn's trap. "I know it's not actually any easier for them, but deciding that you want it... not letting yourself stop until you get it..."

"And you're such a weak-willed worm of a man," Madelyn snorted. "Scott, when you look up 'determined' in the dictionary, your picture's right there. You're like a bulldog, the way you go after things. Giving up is the last thing you do, which is why you spend so much time beating yourself around the head when things don't pan out."

"Charles's personal pit bull," Scott muttered darkly, remembering that particular metaphor. Well, it was preferable to some of the others that had been tossed at him over the years. He messed up on the next shot and frowned, annoyed at himself. "But it's different when it's something inside yourself that needs the attention."

"I don't see why not," Madelyn said simply, raising her eyebrows at the missed shot but not hesitating to take advantage. She couldn't sink anything, but she was able to set up balls in front of two pockets, effectively blocking them. "Unless of course it's something you feel deep down you don't want to change. In that case, you're fighting yourself, all the way, and given how stubborn you are, that's a fight you'll never win, not without calling in reinforcements."

"Don't want to or can't, for whatever reason," Scott said crossly, regarding the table again. "The mental structures you build to allow yourself to do what needs to be done outside your own head make things awkward sometimes." And now he was being weird and elliptical, and needed to stop. He bent over the table again, assessing possible shots.

Madelyn didn't persue it, taking a swallow from the bottle of beer she'd left neglected for far too long. Tonight was supposed to be about relaxation, not tying Scott up in even more knots. Besides, she'd planted the seed - he'd think about it more later, when he was more willing. Scott was like that. "So, apparently Jubilee is planning to kidnap our junior mechanical genius and my kid sister and drive to LA during the summer break," she said,appropos of nothing. "I was thinking of taking bets on who leaves who trussed up at a roadside stop first."

"Good Lord," Scott muttered, and his next shot went badly astray; the mental image was that alarming. "Are we providing them with bail money in advance?"

Laughing - okay, it was sneaky, but it had nicely diverted him and given her a shot, Madelyn lined up and sank another ball, making them even. "As terrifying as the thought is at first, I think it might actually work. Hank's got faith - he's lending them his car."

"Hank is a braver man than I." Yeah. There would have been no car-lending on his part, even if they'd asked. He watched Maddie move around to the other side of the table, her lips pursed as she considered her next shot. "Should be interesting to see when she decides to let me know she needs a break from training."

"She hasn't?" Madelyn facepalmed. "I suppose Rome wasn't built in a day, but yes, she'll need to remember she's not as free a spirit she used to be." She took another shot and missed, pulling a face. "Damn."

"Probably hasn't occurred to her just yet, if they're still in the planning stages," Scott said with a shrug, not particularly bothered. "And in the end, everything's a test. How early she asks me for the time off will be instructive." He picked up his cue again, giving her a severe look. "No tipping her off as to that, mind you."

Madelyn gave him a wounded look. "Would I do that?" she asked rhetorically, and then snickered. "Well, yeah, I was thinking about it. But I won't. Girl Scout's Honor." She held her hand up in the Scout salute, expression mock-solemn.

"Good. Very good. Then I won't have to do anything dastardly," Scott said, sinking a perfect shot. The missed shots had at least opened up the table somewhat. "She's handled things fairly well thus far. Let's give her a chance to continue to be responsible. It's important for her to know that she can keep these things in mind, I think."

"Dastardly? You know, every time I hear that word, it conjures images of vaudeville style villians with swirly black cloaks twirling their moustaches," Madelyn said, laughing at the thought of Scott in something like that. "But you're right. I"m glad to hear she's doing well so far. It was important to her, that she do this."

Another good shot, right there. Yeah, this game was turning around. "Change of subject?" he suggested, keeping his voice as light as possible. "Not that I mind talking about Jubilee, but then I start thinking about other trainees..." One in particular, of course.

Madelyn winced slightly as another ball dropped into a pocket. Oh yes, she was on nightshift for this. She just hoped Hank forgave her, but it was a worthwhile sacrifice if it got Scott away from the school and not fretting. She cast her mind around for another topic that didn't lead to hidden pitfalls. "How are your grandparents doing?" she asked, leaning back against the wall to finish her beer and match her ignomious defeat.

"Really well. Looking forward to meeting Jean, actually." Scott flushed a little. "I, um, invited her to come up with me next month. Did I tell you that? That they'd invited Alex and I to come up for the Midnight Sun festival and bring Lorna and... well, at that point they just said I was welcome to bring anyone I liked."

"Oh, to be a fly on the wall for that." Madelyn snickered. "I may have to ask Alex to take photos."

"I'm still hoping to get them down here at some point," Scott said, trying to settle on another shot. "I think they'd like to see the school... I know they'd like to meet Charles."

"I'd like to meet them myself, after hearing so much about them," Madelyn said, watching him. Now they were down to the last few balls, things were getting tricky.

"I haven't given up just yet," Scott said with a soft chuckle. "No matter what they tell me about how they wouldn't know what to do with themselves 'down south'. It's a interesting life they live up there," he said, leaning over the table and trying manfully to ignore the edge of longing in his voice. "The pace, if nothing else. I can see the attraction."

"You never did get that vacation, did you?" Madelyn observed, eyes sympathetic. "This place pulled its usual trick on you, didn't it?"

He missed the shot and muttered a soft curse. Definitely off today. "Oh, I got a vacation," he said wryly, straightening and moving back from the table to give her room. "Remember all that hobbling and limping around I was doing? It left me with whole empty hours during the day. If you add all those up I'm sure I had a few days of vacation."

"But it wasn't Alaska," she reminded him, considering the table. The miss hadn't opened things up that much for her. "I remember you talking about heading up there for a couple of weeks at one stage, taking a break from everything." She circled the table, still thinking. Tricky. "It wasn't entirely a bad idea."

"Maybe later in the summer," Scott said. "When things are quieter." He offered her a brief, sardonic smile. "I'm afraid that if I was up there for any length of time I wouldn't want to come back."

"Well, you do have more to come back to than you did before," Madelyn pointed out, leaning over the table to take her shot, just the smallest pout of concentration on her face. She sent her ball rolling towards the pocket, where it teetered on the edge. "Come on, drop, damn it," she told it. The ball ignored her. "Blast."

Scott opened his mouth... and then closed it again, biting back what he'd been about to say. It was something of a revelation to him in any case, too, and he wanted to think about it more. "Right," he murmured thoughtfully, stepping back to the table. "You know, I think Phillip suspects there's more to the school than I've told him," he said, careful to keep it oblique. "I suppose I don't come across as your typical engineering teacher."

Madelyn gave him a look that was clearly amused, not missing his reaction. 'Doofus', it seemed to say. "None of us are typical teacher types," she said wryly. "I haven't told me folks anything, but I know my Dad knows something's not quite normal. I'm not your usual school doctor type, for a start." She grinned. "Time to finish me off," she told him. "That last shot of mine deserves punishment, and three nightshifts would be it."

"Parents - and grandparents - are scarily perceptive creatures," Scott said, and did as he was told. "Now I feel vaguely guilty," he said, straightening. "You and Hank are at a definite disadvantage, both being medical staff. Especially since you've all got to be careful to make sure Moira doesn't overwork herself. How about I take one instead of three?"

"It's all part of the secret parent knowledge, being scarily perceptive," Madelyn said with a chuckle. "Or so Dad tells me. He worries, I know - sometimes I wish I could tell him, like with Youra, but that'd put them at risk too. And it must be even harder when you're on the team. And that was a good game." She considered his proposal. "If you're happy to take one, I won't argue - Hank would definitely appreciate me taking one night shift instead of three. Between the baby and making sure Moira's not overdoing things, there's not a lot of time. Although it's surprising how romantic breakfasts can be if they're the only meal you're sharing."

"One, then," Scott said with a firm nod. "Like you said, mitigating circumstances. And I hear you about breakfast, believe me." He grinned. "That's maybe just because I'm such an unrepentant morning person. I always liked to think that was one of the things Jean appreciated about me."

"One of many, I'm sure," Madelyn told him with a grin. "Now, how about winner buys the loser another beer?"