LOG: Bobby and Scott

[x-coldhands.livejournal.com]

Sunday afternoon. Bobby wants more information about where the Blackbird went last night. He doesn't get it.


Bobby'd waited impatiently all day for something to show up on the team comm, explaining what baddie the Blackbird had been sent off against last night, but there was still nothing. Granted, it could have just been routine maneuvers, or even testing the systems--but that sort of thing was usually announced, to prevent disrupting students mid-basketball game. So the silence was starting to really pique Bobby's curiosity.

He tried Scott's office first, to no avail, and then went to the next likely place, knocking on the door of his suite.

Scott had just managed to drift off into a restless doze on the couch when the knock came at the door. He sat bolt upright, his heart already pounding, before he realized that it was just a knock at the door. Of his living room. If there had been something wrong, it would have been the com. Right.

"Come in," he called, shifting around on the couch and running a hand through his disheveled hair.

Bobby opened the door and slipped inside, arching an eyebrow at Scott's current state. "Okay, what's up?" he asked, with no preamble.

Scott blinked at Bobby. "Nothing," he said, a bit bewildered, and more than a little foggy-minded. "I was just taking a nap... is there something wrong?"

"Not that I know of. You tell me." Bobby folded his arms, waiting for Scott to wake up a bit more, and tell him what he wanted to know. "Where did the 'bird go last night?"

Scott blinked again, then frowned, rubbing at his temples. "Can't discuss it," he said, more curtly than he really intended.

Bobby frowned, hating the fact that he was a trainee all over again. It made things feel different, like he didn't really have the right to push. Of course, that wasn't likely to stop him. "C'mon, Scott. It's me. If you tell me not to say anything, I won't."

"Bobby..." He really was not mentally together enough right now to be diplomatic. Why did they have to do these things when he was half-asleep, or sleep-deprived? "It's not that I don't trust you. It's that I honestly can't talk about it."

"Why not??" Bobby asked, aware that he was whining, but somehow unable to stop himself. "I'm on the team again, right? You're the one that wanted me back."

"Bobby." Scott wrestled the sudden surge of aggravation under control. "Do you think that everyone on the team knows everything that's going on, all the time? Actually, did I ever operate that way? Because I don't remember operating that way."

Bobby's shoulders slumped, as he realized he just wasn't going to get the answers he so desperately wanted. "No, sir," he said quietly, as much to remind himself of his status as anything. "Sorry to have woken you." He turned and headed for the door, feeling chastised and frustrated at the same time.

"Bobby, damn it," Scott said, frustrated. "If you slink out of here I'm going to have to follow you to kick your ass. Have you not been doing any of the reading I gave you?" he challenged.

"Of course I have," Bobby retorted, turning back to face Scott obediently. "I've been reading so much my brain is turning to mush from trying to take it all in." He was ready to get through all the damn reading and get back into the real stuff. Stuff like mysterious Blackbird dispatches off to fight the good fight. Stuff to make him feel like he mattered.

"Then you know that lately, we've been doing the straightforward stuff, and the not so straightforward stuff. And with the latter, a lot of the time, we don't talk as much about it, whatever the complications are," Scott shot back at him, feeling vaguely bad about this. But just because the reasons to seal this file were of a completely different nature than those for which files were usually sealed didn't make them any less valid.

Bobby scowled, nodding in acknowledgement. "I just--I feel so out of the loop." He meant so much more than just this latest mission--it was disorienting to leave for a year, and then try to fit back into a place you'd known for so long, when everything had changed. Sometimes things felt like he'd never left, but then something would come up, some incident he didn't know about, some student he hadn't met, and it would jar him out of his complacency, remind him all over again that things weren't how they used to be.

"Special case," Scott said, and left it at that. "This won't be standard operating procedure on most occasions. Unless there's a reason not to, I prefer to leave files open so that we can all be learning from them. If you know what I mean."

"Yeah, I know," Bobby said grudgingly. Didn't really do much to lessen his frustration, but it wasn't Scott's fault. He had a job to do, and all else aside, he was damn good at doing it. So rather than continue to belabor the subject, Bobby changed it. "So when do I get to start the Danger room again?" He was determined to get his leathers back as quickly as possible.

"You've done the reading?"

Bobby shuffled a bit, hands slipping oh-so-casually into his pockets. "Most of it," he mumbled. Surely he could start doing other stuff while he finished the last of it, right?

"When you're done," Scott said, not willing to bend on that. "Once you're done, we can get you back into powers training, and presuming that you're not too rusty, into some scenarios again in the not-too-distant future."

Bobby made a face and nodded. "Fine. But you know, you guys could really try to spice up some of them--they read like VCR repair manuals." He grinned faintly.

Scott managed a very faint smile. "Blame it on me. They all mimick my lack of literary skills... I'm the model."

Bobby chuckled softly, feeling like it somehow would be inappropriate to laugh louder. "I should've known." He stared at Scott a moment longer, then said, "You should really get some sleep, you know. You look like hell." And then waited to get blasted for being a smartass.

"What a coincidence. I feel like hell." Scott sighed and stretched out on the couch again. "Go do your reading, Bobby. Don't worry about yesterday... everything's going to be fine." And it would. Eventually.

Bobby nodded, a nervous tension twisting his stomach suddenly. Something was not right, but he clearly wasn't going to get answers here. "Will do," he replied, and left quietly.

Scott was asleep again almost as soon as his head touched the cushions.