Scott and Ororo, Wednesday night

[x-cyclops.livejournal.com]

Scott didn't do the smart thing and go right back to the mansion after his encounter with Jean. He does however eventually do a different smart thing and calls Ororo to come pick him up.


Ororo eased the car down the street, pulling up in front of the bar and peering out the window as she drummed her fingers on the steering wheel. Scott had called her not too long before, and between the mention of Jean's name and the hint of intoxication in his voice, she had known he was in no state to make it back on his own. That's Scott for you... always responsible no matter what the circumstances.

Inside, Scott was sitting in a corner booth, slowly working his way through - well, he wasn't sure. His fourth? Fifth? This was so stupid of him, he thought, thoroughly depressed and disgusted at himself. This was so not the right response to this. He needed to be going back to the mansion, talking to Charles... except there was part of him that didn't have the heart to do it. Or maybe just the energy.

He had been handling this, he told himself. Very well. Very responsibly. Wasn't it all right just to... not handle it, for a little while?

Heads turned as a white-haired woman stepped into the bar, but Ororo didn't pay any of the other patrons any mind as she made her way towards the corner booth. "Scott," she said softly, slipping into the bench across from him.

Scott looked up at her, summoning up a ghost of a smile. "You made good time... wait, I forgot, you didn't have all that far to come."

"Mm-mm," Ororo agreed. "And the streets are quiet right now." She looked back at him with an expression of concern, unable to smile at his almost-visible anguish.

Scott leaned forward - and froze, feeling the nosebleed start up again. It had been happening on and off, and he reached out mechanically for another napkin. "It was not... the happiest of conversations," he said finally.

"Scott, what did she do to you?" Ororo murmured, leaning forward as well. As much as Jean was her friend... he was bleeding, for goddess' sake!

"Just... pushed, on the link. She was so angry." Scott took a slightly ragged breath. "I'm really confused, Ororo, and I don't think I can be clear-headed about any of this."

"You ought to come back... talk to Charles." Reaching out, Ororo slid a hand over his. "He needs to know about this."

"She was... I ran into her in the park. She was there telling..." His jaw clenched almost spasmodically, his good eye stinging. "I guess she's playing the field. Now that she's free to do so."

Playing the field? But that doesn't sound like Jean at all... "Wait, you ran into her in the park? But why would she be here? I thought she was in Washington."

"I guess the guy she was seeing was here," Scott said. The nosebleed was stopping again. It seemed to go in fits and starts, as the headache waxed and waned. "I know... it doesn't make any sense, does it?" He gave a brittle little laugh. "I don't know what to think. It feels like her, Ororo, on the link..."

Ororo squeezed his hand, holding onto it tightly. "I don't know how, but just because it does... that doesn't mean it's wholly her. Maybe there's something, some sort of outside influence..." It was apparent that she was trying to convince herself of this just as much as him. "It just doesn't make any sense. Jean wouldn't do that, not to you."

"It's sick." The despair in his voice was suddenly overwhelming. "I keep thinking that it's sick, that that's the first explanation I keep coming up with... just because it happened with Betsy. I..." His voice faltered and he closed his eyes. "I think I'm taking refuge in the uncertainty. Isn't that stupid?"

"No, Scott, it's not stupid. Something as sudden and senseless as this..." Ororo sighed. "You need to tell Charles about this. Maybe there's something we've missed."

"I know I do. I-" He hesitated, then shrugged apathetically. "I was going to com him, there in the park. But I just... it seemed like I was being such a coward, looking for the easy explanation."

"Until it's ruled out, there's no reason it can't be true."

"There's something else that keeps coming back to me." He was going to hate himself for saying it, but it needed to be said. "It's not as if I didn't know she had a wandering eye."

Ororo drew back, though she kept her hand tented over Scott's. "What do you mean?"

Scott gave her a long look. "Logan," he said.

"But that was never... You can't take that to mean she would actually do something," Ororo said, shaking her head. Though it was always a bit supicious...

"Not back then, maybe. But now? After all the stress she's been under since she came back, getting her powers under control, dealing with having been 'dead'... and then coming back to a fiance who'd been sleeping with another woman, who cared more about his guilt about that than about her for months, and then lost his eye..." Scott stopped, forcing himself to take a breath. "I always figured that nothing happened with Logan because she resisted it. Maybe she stopped wanting to resist."

"This isn't your fault, Scott." If Ororo knew only one thing about this whole situation, it was this. "Don't blame yourself," she said seriously.

Startlingly, there was no despair in his expression as he looked up to meet her eyes, or in his voice when he answered. Just bleakness. "Whatever happened, whether she's possessed or just snapped or really is just sick of it all... I missed it, Ororo. I missed it completely. It doesn't make it my fault, but there's nothing any of us can say to change the fact that I didn't see it. That it did blindside me." He gave another soft, bitter laugh, his hand going up to rub at the scars on the side of his face. "I don't like that saying anymore. Too literal."

"C'mon. It's time to go home." Not broaching any argument, Ororo stood and slipped out from the booth, looking down at Scott with an expression he well recognized from watching her interactions with reluctant students.

Scott rose slowly, the combination of the alcohol and the near-blinding headache making him totter. "My head," he said very softly as they started for the door, "is killing me. Even by my usual standards for headaches."

"You ought to get some rest," Ororo advised, slipping an arm around his waist to help him.

"Tell you a secret? I've been sleeping on the couch. Can't bring myself to sleep in the bed," Scott said with a sigh as they exited out into the cool evening air. "It's been hell on my back."

"There are other beds... take one of the spare rooms. Those sofas are not meant for sleeping." She led him towards the car, walking quickly to keep up with his long strides.

"I don't... want to," Scott said somewhat confusedly. And he didn't, oddly enough. He didn't want to give up on the suite they'd shared together, even if he couldn't bear sleeping in an empty bed. "Horatio doesn't want to move."

"All right," Ororo said, biting her lip. "We'll see what we can do to make it more comfortable for you, then. Let me guess, your feet hang over the edge?"

"You're very practical-minded," Scott said, leaning against the car for a moment as they reached it. Just to catch his breath before he tried to make the door work. "Ever wondered if that's why we always got along? And yeah, my feet hang over the edge."

Ororo unlocked the doors, opening hers but not getting in quite yet. "I'm sure that's one of the reasons we get along," she said, nodding. "Also because you're kind, and reliable, and fun, and those are qualities I like my friends to have."

"Fun." Scott opened his door and got in, slumping into the seat. "I am going to need to concentrate on the way back," he said very precisely, "on not looking like I've been drowning my sorrows. Think I can sneak up to the third floor the back way?"

"I'll run recon for you," Ororo said, slipping into the driver's seat. She shut the door and turned the key, pulling out of the parking spot and heading back towards the Institute.