Scott and Charles, Thursday morning

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Set before this log, Charles comes to check on Scott and makes a helpful and constructive suggestion or two. He may or may not be emanating the psychic equivalent of tea fumes. It's not entirely clear.


Jean was quite possibly going to hit him - okay, probably not hit him, but she'd give him that exasperated look and threaten to tie him to the bed again - but Scott thought that getting up and moving around was probably not such a bad idea, really. Part of the problem was how stiff he was from all the bruises, after all.

But although he managed to get out to the living room, intending to just fetch his laptop and go back to bed, sitting down for a while on the couch suddenly seemed like a very good idea. Just for a few minutes.

It was never very difficult to find Scott, Charles thought as he wheeled into the room, but the constant mental mutter of 'ow, ow, ow, Jean's going to hit me, ow, ow' made it far too easy. "I almost feel as though I should offer you one of my spares," he said, chuckling softly. "I hope at least that you're feeling better today than you were yesterday?"

"Quite a bit, yes. Still tempted to take you up on that," Scott said with a quick smile only slightly strained by the discomfort he was in. "Came out to, um..." He waved his good hand at the laptop on the coffee table a bit sheepishly. "Well, you know me."

"Tolerably well, yes. Which is what brings me here." Charles raised a knowing eyebrow. "I thought you might need a quiet reminder that you shouldn't feel obligated to take up your duties again until you're fully recovered. Or at least a reinforcement of the reminder I'm sure Jean's already given you."

"Well, I'm not going to be fit for anything too strenuous until this heals," Scott said, giving his hand a somewhat baleful look. "The rest is just bruises. I should be fine..." But it didn't come out sounding as enthusiastic and encouraging and 'Not to worry, Professor, I'll be back on top of things before you know it' as he'd intended it to. Absurdly, there was a faint smile tugging at his lips, even as he continued to avoid Charles' steady gaze. "Okay. So I'm not feeling all that motivated to be back on my feet and getting put through more walls just yet."

That won a snort of laughter. "I would be far more worried about you if you were. I know that it's necessary sometimes, and I respect you a very great deal for taking on the task, but I don't particularly like it when you get put through walls. I'll be overjoyed if you manage not to do it again for some time." Charles favored Scott with a shrewd look. "It's your happiness, as much as your physical health, that concerns me, you know. And you're hardly alone at the top anymore--you can take time off if you need it, or even if you simply want it, and the work will still be done."

The sigh escaped before Scott could stop it, and he finally looked over at Charles. "It has been," he said, part of him squirming at the admission (although the fact that it was only part of him and he was saying it anyway was a sign of progress), "a hell of a few weeks. Any one of those missions would have been enough, but between all of them, and the damned plane getting broken twice..." He stopped, shrugging a bit uncomfortably with his good shoulder. "I'm worried about starting to make mistakes. I'm not sure I didn't in Budapest. And I'm tired." Whoa, how had that slipped out?

"One of these days," Charles said wryly, "I'm going to get you to admit that without looking as if you're confessing under torture. And I'm sure you know what I'm about to say, but I'll say it anyway: the best cure for fatigue is rest, not more work." He smiled. "Go off somewhere with Jean and remind yourselves why the school has a cohabitation policy these days. The team has two entire command teams to cover for your absence, and you'll feel better when you're confident about your performance again."

Another smile slipped out at Charles' first comment, but it faded again as he went on. "Do we?" Scott asked, a bit awkwardly. "That's part of the reason I'm... waffling, I guess. I don't want to leave Ororo without backup, even if I'm not really in the shape to do much backing up. And I don't... want to push Alison."

"Alison is doing very well," Charles said thoughtfully. "Better, perhaps, than even she knows." He raised an eyebrow. "And I'm sure she would benefit from a demonstration of your confidence in her, as much as she respects you. I'd go so far as to call it significantly therapeutic."

"You're sure?" Scott started to ask, then bit his lip. "Of course you're sure. I didn't actually go through the wall headfirst, I'm just doing my best impression of it." Charles was looking vaguely amused now, and Scott offered him a tired smile. "I'll think about it? I just..." Have trouble letting go of the reins and need to talk myself into it. Or have Jean do it.

"Talk to Alison, as well," Charles suggested. "I'm sure she'll have something to say on the matter. Knowing Alison, possibly quite a bit." He smiled again. "And since I'm quite sure you'll find yourself ganged up on . . . enjoy your vacation."