Scott and Terry, backdated to Wednesday afternoon

[x-cyclops.livejournal.com]

Backdated to Wednesday afternoon. Terry finds a slightly unsteady Scott trying to sneak down into his office, and redirects him back to his suite with a promise of distraction. One eye or not, Scott can see that there's something going on with her, but can't get her to talk about it.


Jean really was going to kill him. This did not class as resting, and he was making something of a habit of it. But he hated lying around, hated taking pills that made him unable to think, and at least if he was moving around doing something he had something to distract himself from the pain.

Hence the sneaking down to his office. He'd consider it practice with the stairs, if Jean caught him at it, Scott told himself. They were trickier than you'd think, with no depth perception.

Terry wasn't really paying attention to where she was going as she bolted up the stairs. She knew these steps like the back of her hand and really, everyone knew to stay right so it wasn't as though she was going to run into anyone. Which is why she was shocked when she did, catching herself on the railing right before plowing into the grey sweats clad legs and bare feet on the steps above her. Nice feet...but in her way. Terry looked up, irritated then gaped. "Mr. Summers?"

Scott had squeezed his eye shut instinctively at the collision, although there was a distinct lack of the tell-tale burning sensation, thankfully. He didn't need to see her to know who had just run into him, though. "Hey... Terry. Um. Sorry?" He had a death grip on the bannister.

"Uh, no...my fault. Wasn't watching where I was going..." She continued to stare. "You look weird." He did and she couldn't really figure out why. Just something about his appearance was bothering her, aside from the very casual sweats. Finally she realized his eye was closed...and then figured out what was bothering her. "No glasses!"

Scott opened his eye, very gingerly. "No... no glasses," he said, and caught himself reaching for the bandages again. He made himself lower his hand back to his side. No playing with them, Jean had said. "Long story." He gazed at Terry for a long moment. "You look very pretty in blue, Terry."

"I...uh, thanks." She looked down at her old sweater and jeans combination then back up at his face, utterly fascinated. Mr. Summers was, not that she hadn't already known this, very hot. Even with the bandages. "I'm sorry I ran into you. Where were you going?"

"Ummm... office," Scott said, a bit meekly, and tried to step around her. The sideways movement made him dizzy, though, and he grabbed at the banister again, taking a deep, shaky breath. "Thought I could... get something to do."

Terry frowned and caught his other arm, moving up easily to steady him though she continued to sneak looks at his face. "You don't look good. Did Dr. Grey say that you could be working? Because otherwise, I'm going to tattle so that I have more time to finish my engineering paper."

"She didn't say I couldn't..." was the rather lame reply Scott managed. Terry didn't look like she was buying it. "I just want something to read, I guess." And why had he said that? He wasn't supposed to be straining the good eye.

She gave him a Look. "You wanted to work. And I'll bet anything that you're supposed to be resting and not working. I had to rest that time I fell off the banister and that wasn't anything like what happened to you." She tugged on his arm, up the stairs, not down. "I can read to you if you want."

"Redheads. Ganging up on me." He was so dizzy. And going back to the suite was a shorter distance than getting down to his office. "Okay," he finally said. "But don't tattle, okay? Jean's been too stressed... last thing she needs is to feel obligated to scold me."

"We have a code. A redhead code. Like Sherlock Holmes." She continued to hold onto his arm as they went up the stairs. Every now and again, she felt him tense under another wave of dizziness though she pretended not to notice. "We get to scold in each other's place when it's necessary. What do you want me to read to you? I have a really boring history assignment."

"Nathan taking out his November ennui on you poor kids?" They were up to the third floor surprisingly quickly, and Scott was almost relieved when they got back to his and Jean's suite with no one the wiser. "I'm not picky," Scott said, not thinking about what a contradiction that was, given that he'd supposedly been headed downstairs looking for reading material when there was a whole shelf up here.

Terry sighed, "It's like I'm being punished." She looked around, "Where do you want to sit? Or do you want to lie down?" Lying down meant that she'd pick something boring and make him sleep. Sitting would have to be more interesting fare. "Nathan's given us nothing but essays for the last three days."

"He's in a mood, I've noticed. Just do a whole lot of smiling and nodding." Scott sank down onto the couch, letting the air in his lungs out on a sigh. "Can you... there's a bottle of pills on the nighttable, in the bedroom. I should have taken some earlier."

Terry nodded and dashed in to get it, returning without more than a single curious glance around. Not that she wasn't extremely curious but this was Mr. Summers. Not for spying on. "Here you go. I think he's unhappy with me." Which may have been her imagination but then again, Nathan was Angelo's boss and Lord knew that Angelo wasn't pleased with her right now. She sighed and wandered over to the bookshelf, "What should I read?"

"Why would Nathan be unhappy with you?" Scott asked a bit dimly, wrestling with the lid on the bottle for a moment before he got it open, shaking out two of the pills into his hand. "And there's... um." He hesitated. "I can't remember what I was reading before I went to Seattle," he said with another sigh. "Isn't that funny."

Terry glanced over at Scott, eyes slightly wide, trying to imagine saying the words 'I cheated on Bobby with Manuel' to him. Not going to happen. Not in this universe. "I don't know. It's probably just my imagination." She looked around, trying to figure out where he'd have left a book that he was reading. Somewhere perfectly logical. Probably with a bookmark still in it and...there. "Was it this one?" She reached into the magazine rack next to the couch, perfectly placed to be picked up for an evening of reading and relaxation and held up a nearly pristine paperback copy of The Kite Runner.

"That's right... yet another book Shan pushed on me," Scott said, swallowing the two pills with a swallow from the bottle of water that happened to be sitting on the coffee table.
"And Terry? Nathan's really fond of you," he pointed out, one brown eye focusing more keenly on her face. "I really don't think he'd be cherishing any kind of... secret annoyance he wouldn't talk about, if you asked him."

"That's why it's probably my imagination." Terry sat down in an armchair and opened the novel to the predictable bookmarker. She shrugged uncomfortably, ready to change the subject any time now. Scott really didn't need to know about what a horrible person she was.

"Hey." He waited until Terry looked back at him, and then gave her the lopsided smile that was still all he could manage. "I got half my face blown off, Terry, yes, but nothing happened to my brain. You're not all right. Do you want to talk about it?"

Sighing, she closed the book again and shook her head. "Mr. Summers...you like me right?"

"There's a silly question." The smile lingered. "It's not every student at this school who's been up for secret midnight test flights in the Blackbird, now, is it?" He was almost positive that a fair number of people knew about that, though. It wasn't as if he'd been terribly discreet about it. Hard to believe that had been four years ago, almost...

Terry half-smiled in response, pleased by the memory but not much cheered. "I like that you like me. I like it much better when you think good things about me and believe I'm a good person. So...no, I don't really want to talk about it. Enough people hate me for it right now."

He was really very out of touch. What could have happened? Scott made a mental note to ask Jean what she could find out. "It would take a hell of a lot to make me hate you," he said gently, "but if you don't want to talk about it, I won't push. Just... remember I'm here to talk, if you want to?"

"Of course, Mr. Summers. And you can grade my paper better once I turn it in if you want to prove it. I'm afraid it's going to really be terrible." She opened up the book again and scanned the page to get an idea of what she was going to be reading. "Did you still want me to read?"

"If you-" Scott stopped, swallowing. "J-Just a minute," he said, willing Terry to ignore the stammer as he pushed himself up off the couch and made his unsteady way towards the bathroom. Damn his stomach.

"No problem." Terry watched him go and make a mental note to tattle to Dr. MacTaggart. That way Dr. Grey wouldn't be stressed and he'd still get appropriately scolded. Redhead code and all that.

Scott emerged in a few minutes, looking a little pale but less shaky. "Just the painkillers," he explained to Terry as he sat back down. "We energy-projectors have strange metabolisms that drugs don't always agree with."

Terry nodded serenely like she wasn't at all noting this very carefully for tattling purposes. "Maybe you should lie down instead?"

"I think maybe, yeah." He grimaced, leaning back against the cushions with another sigh. "Dumb idea, going wandering around. You'd think I'd have learned my lesson yesterday."

"Aye, so you'd think." She didn't ask what happened yesterday, just set aside the book and stood up. "Have a lie down, Mr. Summers. You'll feel better for it. If I see Dr. Grey, I'll tell her you're resting like you're supposed to be."