Scott, Kurt, and Lorna, Thursday morning

[x-cyclops.livejournal.com]

Sometimes, when you're having a week like Scott's having, you want to lie on the couch and stare at the ceiling. Other times, you just want to beat the crap out of something. Scott goes for the tried-and-true option of the punching bag. Kurt, arriving for some gymnastics practice, expresses his concern but also his willingness to give Scott some space.


Scott hammered away grimly at the punching bag, ignoring the ache in his hands, and the fact that his bruised ribs were definitely not happy with him. He was wearing gloves, but he'd been at it for a while and was starting to feel it. Wasn't going to stop him, of course. This had been a semi-regular ritual even when things had been going well, for the simple fact that it helped him, and right now, he just needed to lose himself in the physical activity.

He was still beating the bag up when Kurt walked in, planning to do some gymnastics work. Seeing Scott, he stopped in the doorway. He'd seen the post to the system, of course... "Scott?"

Someone who would want to talk. Scott swallowed a sigh, not letting up on the bag. "Kurt," he said.

Kurt leaned against the wall, not beginning his routine just yet. "Have you been down here for long?"

"Twenty minutes or so." Scott paused for a moment, giving Kurt a level look, reminding himself that between command staff, a certain level of honesty was required even at times like this. "I'm not going to hurt myself," he said more quietly, then started hitting the bag again. "I've done the self-destructive thing. I'm not about to do it again and risk my ability to do my job."

Kurt nodded. "Yes, I... remember the last time. I am glad to hear it."

"Don't worry. You're not going to be dragooned into any more therapeutic kidnappings." He sounded a little cold, maybe, but that was better that the alternative. Scott followed up the punch-combination with a solid kick.

"I am pleased to hear that, too. I did not enjoy having to do it."

Kurt looked so quietly worried, in that way Kurt had. "I'm fine, Kurt," Scott said, and forced himself to stop gritting his teeth. His jaw was starting to ache. "I'm not the first person in the world who's ever had something like this happen."

"No, you are not," Kurt acknowledged. "But you are my friend, and it has happened to you."

"I wish I understood why you see things so clearly." When all he could see what he should have seen, what he should have done, what he'd clearly missed, again and again, and wasn't the universe going to stop throwing these repeating patterns at him anytime soon? Maybe he'd done something very bad in a past life.

Kurt tilted his head in half-acknowledgment, half-confusion. "I see things as I have always seen them. Perhaps it comes from my mother."

Scott made a monosyllabic noise that might have been acknowledgement or apology - and kept hitting the bag. "Rhetorical question, I suppose. Sorry, I'm just not tracking very well right now."

"It is understandable. I can come back later, if you would like to be left alone...?" He was uncertain, if Scott didn't want to talk, whether he would want anyone else in the room at all.

"I don't need the whole gym in which to brood," Scott said quietly, almost inaudible over the sound of his fists hitting the bag. "You came down here for a reason, Kurt. Don't let me get in the way of that." Routine was good. Reassuring.

Kurt looked at him for a moment longer, then nodded. "I did plan to do some gymnastics practice."

"I'll just be over here with my friend the heavy bag," Scott said with a flicker of bleak humor. "For at least a little while longer." Although the way his hands were feeling, he should probably call it a day soon.

"Okay. If you need to go for a drink... or anything... later, I will be here."

---


After Kurt leaves, Lorna arrives, perhaps to explore the therapeutic possibilities of strenuous physical activity. It's entirely possible that she and Scott should not be having this conversation just now, but they do it anyway. In the end, they manage to be remarkably adult in a lot of ways, but they are definitely not a happy pair this week. Oh, and the punching bag dies.


Kurt had finished his gymnastics practice and wandered back off, after a couple of concerned looks back over his shoulder. Scott hadn't taken him up on his offer to talk. Although he had headed over to the treadmill for a little while, so that Kurt had no reason to call him on spending too much time getting up close and personal with the punching bag. As soon as the other man left, however, he went back to it. Much more satisfying than just running, although he was so going to be paying for it later today.

It wasn't that she was avoiding everyone. She wasn't. So she didn't want to have to tell the same story a hundred times, deal with the same questions over and over again. That wasn't wrong. It was just what people did in uncomfortable situations. And given that she wasn't sure that anyone would think that she'd made the right choice, no matter what the reasons, it was just easier to go places when there weren't likely to be people around. Of course, places like the gym were always occupied and like now, usually by the people you wanted least to see. Lorna emerged from the locker room and froze at the sight of Scott pounding rhythmically on the heavy bag. She pulled her headphones from her ears, and pondered retreat.

He was still getting used to how much peripheral vision he had without the visor - well, on the one side. Scott caught the flicker of movement, and the unmistakable green hair. "Lorna," he greeted her, never letting up on the bag.

Well, that settled that. "Scott," she replied in a carefully neutral tone and walked from the doorway to warm up on the elliptical. "How are things?"

A disbelieving laugh slipped out before Scott could help himself. "Do you think it's possible that maybe we shouldn't be asking each other that question?"

"Only if you plan on actually answering it instead of taking it that I'm just being polite." Lorna gave him an ironic look, "which was the point of the question. I have a fair idea of the real answer after all."

Scott grunted and turned his attention back to the bag. "So how long are you here for?" he asked, between punches. "I assume you'll understand why I've only been paying intermittent attention to what's been going on around me this week." The bag suddenly wasn't holding his attention like it should. He hadn't expected this conversation yet. Hadn't been ready, and Scott could feel himself tensing up, just with the anticipation.

Lorna sighed and upped the resistance on the machine. "A week or so. Depends what I hear from Berkeley." She frowned, "These last couple weeks have been sort of a mess for everyone I think."

"Actually, just this week, for me," Scott said a bit quizzically, shaking his head and landing a solid kick to the bag. "Seriously. Saturday, everything's fine - or so I thought. Sunday... not so much."

"Even given that fine is a relative term around here, yeah, it does seem like things became drastically less than fine, rather quickly." But he hadn't yet asked about the reason she was here so that was good. For her at least. "Do you have any idea yet what's wrong?"

Scott paused, his eyes flickering to her for a moment. "I went to DC to see her," he said, neutrally. He hadn't precisely advertised that, after all. "She pretty much laid it all out for me. She doesn't want this life anymore. She's been staying with me since Seattle out of pity, and it finally got to be too much for her." Saying it aloud, again, to Lorna of all people, finally stirred more than despair and sadness and confusion. Anger was starting to build, slowly and steadily.

Lorna winced, the reasoning hitting a little close to home for her. "I...guess I know where she's coming from. It's never easy to tell the person that used to be the center of your world that they...aren't. Or to be that person. People change though, it's just the way the world is."

Thankfully, he had looked back at the punching bag when Lorna had started speaking. So the optic blast, though it blew the punching bag apart quite impressively, got nowhere near Lorna. "Shit--SHIT!" Scott squeezed his eyes shut instinctively - both of them, which spoke to how well the physio was progressing - and his hand darted up to cover the good eye as well, just to be safe.

Right...upsetting the guy still working on control was bad. Lorna clung to the elliptical, her heart racing from adrenaline. Under her hands the metal bar dented then swarmed up to cover her skin, instinctively protective. "Sorry. I wasn't thinking." She took a breath and focused on reforming the mangled holds.

Scott ignored her for a long moment, as he concentrated on slowing his breathing back down, just like Jean had... his breath caught in his chest, and it took him far too long to banish the tell-tale itch behind his eye.

Only then did he look back at her, noticing what she was doing with the machine. "At least you didn't lose interest because you found someone else," he said bitterly. Oh, yes, the anger was there. Growing by leaps and bounds, now, just as erratic as that random optic blast. "Or did you?"

Lorna froze and meticulously finished smoothing out the metal, her jaw tense. "No..." she sighed, "Not exactly." She wasn't sure to be honest. She didn't think that it had anything to do with Remy. But things had been mixed up so long that she wasn't sure what was real anymore. "It's complicated."

Not exactly? No, he wasn't going to touch that. He just wasn't. "Of course it is. Because if it was simple and you'd understood all along, you never would have made certain promises, would you?" Scott went over to the equipment room to retrieve a broom and dustpan. This was going to take a while. "At least you didn't marry him."

"No, just said that I would." Lorna shook her head. What she'd done wasn't a good thing. But it had been the right thing. "Do you want some help? I feel responsible." She crossed over to him.

"If you want." Scott's reply wasn't quite cold, but it wasn't welcoming, either. He ought to be calling Alex, finding out how he was... commiserating? But he couldn't. He couldn't bring himself to pick up the phone, couldn't really bring himself to care. He'd told Alex that the proposal maybe hadn't been such a good idea. It wasn't as if he hadn't foreseen this possibility.

Lorna wasn't expecting welcoming. She was sort of amazed that Scott was even being civil. She took another broom and dustpan and started to clean, watching Scott closely. "You haven't talked to him at all, have you?" she said quietly, after a long moment. "Is that because of what's going on with Jean?"

"Lorna, I got a 'Dear John' letter from my wife the day before you showed up. The day after that, I went to see her so that she could elaborate on how much she despised me, and then I wrapped my car around a tree on the way back home. I haven't really had time to be a good elder brother just yet." She'd broken up with Alex and was still haranguing him on his brother's behalf? Scott thought angrily.

She shook her head and rubbed her temple, "I wasn't...that's not what I meant. He hasn't called you even. He was...I'd thought for sure he'd call you." Alex had been so angry when she left. Most of it was hurt but he'd been angry too. She didn't like that he was apparently bottling it.

"And you care why, precisely?" Scott asked sharply, getting up to dump a dustpan-ful of sand into the garbage.

She wasn't able to stop the glare though she admitted it was a fair question, "I still care about him, Scott. I don't want him to have to deal with this alone. Just because I'm not..." she stopped, choking over admitting that she didn't love Alex anymore. "Just because I can't marry him doesn't mean that I don't care what happens. You can't just shut it off like that."

"You know, I'm not sure, but I almost prefer Jean's approach. At least she made it very clear that she didn't even pity me anymore." Scott came back to the mess that had been the punching bag and set about sweeping up more of the sand, meticulously. "There's something to be said for being up-front about these things. Apparently the new person in her life is less broken than me. Is that what you're looking for?" he asked somewhat ruthlessly. "Someone less needy than my brother?"

She thought of Remy and couldn't stop the bitter smile, "No. That had nothing to do with it. I wasn't looking for anyone else. I just found out that what I thought I wanted my life to be...wasn't really what I needed. Even if I'm not on the team, I can't stay perfectly out of danger like Alex wants. I can't just be...normal." There was more to it than that. Lots more. But she wasn't planning on explaining it to Scott.

"I could be bitter and misogynistic and say something about a women's right to change her mind. But I think I'd prefer to just be bitter, and skip the generalizations." Scott swept up more of the sand, turned back towards the garbage.

"This is hard for me too, Scott. I didn't decide to do this because it was fun." Lorna sat back on her heels, glaring after him. "I thought it was better for me to tell Alex the truth and spare us both...well, frankly, what you're going through. What should I have done? Lied? Forced myself to pretend I still loved him?"

Scott stopped, dustbin poised over the garbage for a moment as he absorbed Lorna's last question. "Whole lot of that going around," he said more quietly, letting the sand slide downwards. And damn him, for feeling the need to be honest, instead of just lashing out at her. She'd make such a handy target, really. "Honestly? I'm still having trouble processing what's going on, so I'm probably not the person to be asking."

Lorna shook her head and stood with her own dustpan full of sand. "I think you're the only person I can ask. Honestly, Scott. What should I have done? How could I have done this better?"

Scott looked back at her, then shrugged a little. "I doubt you really could have done it better," he said, his voice still low. "After what you went through this year, it would have been expecting an awful lot of you to know precisely what you wanted and make all the right choices. Alex... should never have asked you to marry him. Not so soon, however good his intentions were."

"I shouldn't have said yes." She dumped the sand into the trash. "He's never been anything but honest. I'm the one who was always screwed up." Lorna looked back at the sand. "Let me finish cleaning this."

"I killed the punching bag, all right? I'm not leaving you to clean up after me." His movements were sharp, jerky as he went back to the steadily decreasing mess of sand and leather scraps. "Don't beat yourself up. You and Jean both had the misfortune of being involved with men who rushed you."

"Scott...it wasn't his fault. Or yours. There's just...you can't keep someone in love with you."

"Did I say it was his fault? Or mine? It takes two to tango, Lorna. Two people to perpetuate a lie." His eye was itching again; he made it stop. No more losing control. Not for an instant. The claws inside his chest were a figment of his imagination and they would go away. "You probably did him a kindness, being honest with yourself now instead of later."

"Not in this case." Lorna shrugged, "I think I did the right thing mostly. He...has every right to be upset but I wasn't trying to hurt him. If I had, then I don't think I would be able to live with myself."

"Well, then, he's ahead of me. Jean took a great deal of glee in scoring points in the process of leaving me... I suppose that makes you a better person than her."

"Now there's a sentence I never thought I'd hear. I always looked up to her. I didn't say it before, but...I'm really sorry, Scott. I was shocked when I heard. It just doesn't seem like it makes any sense." She didn't put her hand on his shoulder, though that was her natural impulse. She was fully aware of the irony of her statement.

"It only had to make sense to her," Scott said brusquely, not responding to the expression of regret. "It only takes one person to walk away."

Lorna sighed. "I'm sorry. I...I really don't know what else to say." She dumped another pan of sand.

"Why say anything? Obviously, it's not a happy situation," Scott said in a brittle voice, wanting so badly out of this conversation, suddenly. "For me, at least. Jean seems to find it liberating. Maybe I should take her advice and sleep around to see if I can't see it through her eyes."

Her reaction was slow, not from indecision but from worry, "I think that maybe you should take a couple of days to get used to this first. Whatever Jean said...there has to be more to it."

"Don't worry, Lorna. No intention of taking her advice. Now or ever. Never let it be said that I can't learn from my track record." There was more to it, of course, that had to do with having made promises and being determined that he wasn't going to live down to her expectations at least in that sense, but he wasn't going to get into that with Lorna. "I guess I'll get to rediscover the joy of being married to my work."

Lorna wanted to be reassuring but had no such words to give. "I...I know you'll do what's best." She stood and brushed off her gym pants of clinging sand. "If you don't want to let me finish, I'll go and sign out another bag from storage and get it hung up. It'll be good practice for me."

"If you like. This probably isn't a particularly productive conversation for either of us." Scott's movements stilled for a moment. "Still," he said much more quietly, cursing his conscience for insisting that he say it, "I'm glad you're being honest with yourself. I hate to see anyone... allowing themselves to be less than they are. The fact that it's not a good basis for a relationship is only the tip of the iceberg, I guess."

Lorna nodded and started to walk away, then paused. "This is...really not the appropriate time. But...sometime soon, I need to talk to the three COs." She smiled without warmth or humor, "part of that being true to myself thing."

Scott nodded jerkily. "Whenever you want. I'll be around."

"Thanks." She walked away, leaving him to finish cleaning up the mess.