Scott and Paige

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Scott comes to see Paige. She gets her Captain back. It's adorable, heads up.


He wouldn't stay long. Didn't want to tire her out, Scott told himself, slipping into the room quietly, his fingers clicking a bit nervously on the CD case, unconsciously sabotaging his attempts to Be Discreet.

The first clicks were muffled by Paige closing her laptop; she'd tried to read back a little, but all the words were just blurring together. She could catch up later. Maybe much later. The second round, however, brought her eyes up and towards her Captain. Former Captain? She wasn't sure. Issuing a small smile in his direction, she invited him forward, before putting her computer on the side table.

Scott gave her a tiny, hopeful smile in response. "Hey you," he said, stepping firmly on his jitters. "Do me a favor?" he said, lowering himself into the chair by the bed. "Say something, so I know I'm not seeing things?"

"Hey there," she said gently in return, reaching over to let her fingertips brush his knee; the only thing she could reach. He looked so sad. "All me. Look, my fingers aren't even going through your leg."

"Oh, good." He tried to keep his tone light, but didn't quite manage it. "I'd have been disturbed by a transparent you, I think. Did you ever try glass?" He smiled a little again, a bit crookedly. "I should know the answer to that. I'm a little off this evening, though..."

Paige stretched her fingers out, trying to inch them forward to rest a little bit more securely. "Come closer before I fall off the bed, you," she ordered, her tone light underneath the exhaustion. "I did once. Just to see if I could. Doesn't that sound right?"

Scott pulled the chair a little closer, then reached out and closed his hand around hers, more gently than he might have. More gently than he wanted to, really, but she looked so pale and tired. "Yeah," he said, his voice a bit thick. "Sounds just like you. I think I prefer to see you wearing something a little less breakable."

"Hey..." she answered softly, even tenderly, and squeezed his hand, causing the bones to push up so close as to look like they might pierce the skin. "Don't look so sad... I'm okay. I'm here and I'm okay."

Scott set the CD case down on the side table and then placed his other hand over hers. "You scared the hell out of me," he said quietly. "Out of a lot of us, but I just couldn't..." He bit his lip. "Futility sucks," he finally said, and then gave a weak laugh. "I'm just so glad you're... back." And back was the word, wasn't it?

It was too much. She'd tried to smile through it, but the exhaustion, the lack of sugar, the look on his face and now his words... it was too much. The beginning of tears formed in her eyes, not the kind that lead to sobs, just the kind of a frightened girl. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to... I would never, you know that, right? Even with all that's happened, you still know?"

Scott hesitated, just for a moment, before he moved from the chair to the edge of the bed, tentatively but yet still determinedly drawing her into his arms. Hugging. So not good at this hugging thing. "I know," he whispered. "I really do. I just wish..." He almost smiled. "Wish I had a magic wand. Or one of those time-tumbler things."

"I'm sorry," she repeated, clinging as tight to him as she could manage, even if that wasn't very tight at all. Her nose fell under his collar, soap and Scott, and she didn't shake as she let the tears fall. "I'll be better. For real this time. I'm getting help. I decided, and I mean it. I'm getting help. I'm sorry, I never meant to."

"That's all we want," Scott said very quietly. "For you to be better." Happy. "And I don't want you to apologize," he said a bit fiercely. "We don't apologize for being human. We don't need to."

"For disappointing you." Paige didn't look up, taking advantage of this rare display of affection to rest her cheek on his shoulder, eyes gone half closed. "Not meeting your expectations. I really wanted to make you proud."

"... doofus." Before she could react to that, his arms tightened a little around her. "Seriously. You've never stopped making me proud. Like right now. I'm so proud of you I can hardly form proper sentences."

She smiled a little at that, showing just a glimmer of teeth, as her eyes ducked in embarrassment, trying not to hope too hard. "But look at me. Look what I did, what I didn't do; there's nothing there to be proud of. I don't deserve it."

"For coming out the other side? Like hell you don't," Scott said, in the tone that meant that he was not going to tolerate disagreement with that, oh, no.

There was a pause, a silence, in which Paige was obviously thinking, but not arguing. They sat there, as she took several breaths, trying to get up the nerve to stay something. Finally, she managed to cautiously ask, "Do I still get to be your protégé someday?"

There was no answer from Scott for a moment. Then, very seriously: "Well... I don't remember firing you. So I guess that means the job, if you want to call it that, is still yours if you want it." A brief pause. "Would a special hat help?"

"Yes, I think so," Paige replied, quite seriously in return. She pulled back, looking up into the red of Scott's glasses and allowed herself a little grin "Maybe with a feather?"

"Nah," Scott said with a noise that might have been a chuckle, or something else. "Feathers are tacky. Your name and number one protégé spelled out in sequins."

Paige covered a giggle with her hand, which turned into a yawn and then more giggling. "You win. You may stay. Of course, you'll also have to get a matching hat."

"Sequins are not manly. Neither are sparkles. Anything else, within reason, you can inflict upon me as you choose." He looked down at her a bit tentatively. "You're yawning. You should be resting..."

"In a bit, in a bit. I'm talking about uniforms with my Captain. Very pressing matter. Utmost importance. Could make the morning news, even," Paige answered with a gentle smile. "But we might want to start a very long wrap up. Be responsible or something."

"Responsible," Scott echoed, not in any particular rush to leave himself. "I brought you..." He blinked at the CD - of Irish drinking songs? "Uh, I actually think I brought you something you don't really want to listen to. I think I may have accidentally taken one of Sean's CDs when I moved out of our suite..."

"Really, or reallyreally don't want to listen to? I have a fever after all, you'd be surprised. You could be the catalyst behind my dreams about dancing cactuses and giant chickens taking me on a trip to Las Vegas," Paige pointed out, literally, as she gestured to him, settling back into her pillows.

Scott adjusted the blankets over her. "I prefer not to traumatize you to that extent," he said, his lips twitching suspiciously. "I mean, giant chickens..."

Raising her arms above the blankets, Paige pushed the sleeves of her sleep shirt over her elbows; it was if voicing her fever made it appear, and she was suddenly half hot, half cold. "You're so good to me. It's no wonder I'm rather fond of you."

Standing, Scott hesitated... and then reached down and smoothed the hair back from her forehead gently. He was smiling again, and yet couldn't quite compose his expression. "And you," he said very gravely, her calling him Captain reminding him of the running joke, "are very pretty."

"I think any manly fashion taking would ruin this moment, however," she said seriously, before giving him a warm smile. She was content. Warm and content. It was easy to remember why she had been half in love with this man once, with the way he was smiling at her and pushing back her hair, but she liked this even better.

"And also lead to the special hell."

Giggling, Paige swatted his leg. "That too." Her giggle ended, face turning serious but without any of the grave from earlier, as she continued. "Thank you. For everything, obviously, but... Forgiving me. Giving me another chance."

Scott gazed down at her for a moment, the smile turning almost tentative again, but his hands steady as he adjusted her blankets. "You get some sleep," he said. "I've been terribly lonely on my morning runs lately."

"You masochist. Most people don't enjoy a teenaged girl leaving them in the dust," she teased, letting him fuss over her, as her eyes obediently fell closed. "Then again, I'm not going to say I mind your running shorts. In a purely protégé sort of way, of course."

"Go to sleep, Guthrie," Scott said, mock-sternly if softly. "I'll be back tomorrow."

"Y'sir," she mumbled, already falling asleep.