Scott and Cain, Wednesday afternoon

[x-cyclops.livejournal.com]

After these emails, Cain finds Scott in the Situation Room to ask him a certain question.


Why did he insist on having these conversations with Cain in rooms where there was only one exit? Bad, bad strategy on his part, Scott thought with a sigh, sending the email reply to Alison and one to Jean. And hey, once he got finished here, he had that conversation to look forward to. If he survived.

Cain paused outside the door to the situation room, resisting the urge to bark out "The marine reports as ordered, sir!" out of habit. In a lot of ways, Scott reminded him of his old CO. The type of man who could hold up a map and say the words "in my experience..." and instill fear in his troops.

But Summers knew his shit, Cain admitted to himself, and by now Cain had no problem with the younger man calling the shots regarding the team. So obviously, he'd have the answer here.

Without knocking, Cain opened the door to the situation room, seeing Scott at the computer terminal. Between them stood the odd little round table, metal pins rising and falling in ever-changing 3-D maps of the surrounding landscape.

Resting his knuckles on the table, Cain rolled his shoulders, letting out a bit of stress before speaking plainly. "I appreciate you and Jean makin' sure Alison's okay. You know what you're doing, and if I badger you about it, it's just 'cause I'm concerned is all. So that's settled. I got me a little operational conflict, you might say, and I want an answer from you."

Scott glanced down at the computer terminal, where Creed's file was open, and then looked back up at Cain. Not precisely the question he'd expected, which was a nice kick in the pride. At some point, he knew, he was going to have to get over his wariness of Cain. To some extent it was the same problem he'd had with Sean and Nathan - who was he, to be giving orders to people who'd been racking up experience when he'd been going through puberty? Or in diapers? And Cain was just so much more...

Scott cut the thought off, sinking back onto his chair. "Shoot," he said quietly, telling himself to deal with the situation at hand and stow the self-examination until later.

Cain nodded his head at the computer screen. "I read the file on him. Dangerous bastard, don't seem like much more than an animal. And what he did to Alison... I coulda killed him down there, ended him like that," Cain snapped his fingers, the sound like a gunshot in the small room. "So - what gives? Why the 'no-kill' order down there? Bastard deserved it, and it might just save the next person he decides to drag down and play butcher on. You got an answer?"

"Let's not muddy the waters, all right?" Scott's voice was low and calm, removing any edge the words might have had. "I didn't give you a no-kill order while we were in the tunnels. I gave it to you--to everyone before we went in, because I didn't want us getting distracted from our objective."

"Ain't questioning the when, and I can grasp the why," Cain answered, stroking his chin thoughtfully. "But I'm serious, I could've taken him out permanently. Only reason I didn't was your say-so, and because I trust you've got your reasons. Just feel I oughta know those reasons. Ain't just me," Cain continued, sliding down into one of the chairs. "We got guys here like Haroun, like LeBeau - ain't no strangers to killing. Also ain't the types like Logan to go around offin' folks 'cause they smell funny. How many lives woulda been saved if you'd've taken a kill shot at Magneto back at Liberty Island, you ever think about that?"

Scott's jaw clenched, but he reminded himself to pay attention to everything Cain had just said. Not just the question. "Do you want the long answer, or the short one? Or the ideological one... or the practical one?" He went on evenly, not waiting for Cain to answer any of his rhetorical questions. "We start killing randomly and we lose what legitimacy we've managed to gain over the last couple of years. We turn ourselves into vigilantes. And that doesn't affect just us. It's not just about not wanting to get our hands dirty - it determines what we can do, Cain. The more often we prove ourselves to be capable of a measured response to some of the threats we face, the more often we prove that we can fight the fights that need fighting and do it inside the system, the more chances we're going to have to do it in the first place. The more support we'll get, doing it."

Cain shook his head. "I got that spiel from Chuck when I told him I wanted in. And hell, I had to give it to Dom, back in Chad. But our usual situations ain't folks like him, Summers. Ain't a damn thing in the world wouldn't have been made better if I'd have snapped his neck in two down there and buried him under a pile of rock. He's gonna do it again, Slim, and what're we gonna say then?"

Scott leaned back in his chair, raised an eyebrow. "So why didn't you?" he asked quietly. "Snap his neck, I mean." He shook his head, before Cain could answer. "No, I'm serious," he said. "Nate had snapped out of it by then. He'd have been able to get Alison back to the plane even if you and I had both, say, decided to see just how much punishment Creed's healing factor could take."

"You said no," Cain replied, as if explaining it to a child. "Even if I don't agree with it, I know how to follow an order. There's a reason Chuck put you in charge of this rodeo. I ain't the leader type, I'm smart enough to know that. So when folks like you or 'Ro or Alison give the word, I go. You say take him alive, I pull the punch. You say he's a corpse, I ain't got a problem making it so."

"And you know why I said no." Okay, so maybe he was getting just a little pissed here after all. Buckle it down, Scott told himself harshly. "I suppose I should just spit it out and admit that I wouldn't have said yes," he went on, his voice still low, but noticeably tighter. "Even though... dealing with Creed wouldn't have meant sacrificing time Alison needed after all. I still stand by the order I gave at the time I gave it. But since we're well into the second guessing here - to me, the only options there were retrieving Alison, or retrieving Alison and taking Creed into custody. Not getting her back and killing him."

Cain stayed silent, one finger pressing down the pins on the tactical map and watching them spring back up into place. "Then it's as simple as that," he finally said. "Your mission, your call. I ain't got a problem with it. But just so you know - he, or anyone like him, shows up here looking to do more of the same? With Alison or anyone under this roof? Then it ain't an X-Men thing, and we ain't seein' eye to eye on it. Just so we're clear."

Scott told himself to stop grinding his teeth. How he so loved discussions like this. "Well, as you like to remind us, it's your house," he said curtly. "Home invasions by psychopathic feral mutants aren't rescue missions."

"I'm glad we understand each other," Cain said with a genuine grin. "I mean, ain't like I'm about to drag you off to Harry's for a brew like we're best buds or nothing, but we got us a pretty good working understanding here."

The big man stood, one hand still playing idly with the tactical map. "And for the record," he said quietly, "Getting Alison out of there safe was my priority. When that uniform goes on, the team's always going to be first priority. I ain't Logan, I know a thing or two about loyalty and discipline, and I know where to leave personal problems in the locker room." He looked up, staring into the blank lenses of Scott's glasses. "And I want you to trust me on that, you ain't got to be looking over your shoulder when I'm at your back. That's all I got to say."

"Oh, but I look over my shoulder at everyone all the time, Cain. Watching for psychotic breaks and/or abrupt swings to the Dark Side, you know." Scott paused a beat. "Joking," he said, the deadpan expression not altering. "Well, no, I am paranoid, but that doesn't mean I don't appreciate hearing that."

Cain just nodded and gave a casual two-fingered salute as he ducked back out into the hallway, without another word.