Scott and Ororo | Backdated Tuesday night

[x-storm.livejournal.com]

Scott has another visitor Tuesday night. Ororo isn't forcing food into him but she is there to listen, and they both find that it's hard to deal with feelings of betrayal and guilt. And it starts to rain.

Scott had been waking up for a while, but it was the murmur of a familiar voice that drove it home that he a) was indeed awake, and b) was no longer alone in the guest room. He blinked, raising a hand to rub at his eye as he lifted his head off the pillow and saw the white-haired figure standing over on the far side of the room, bending over Horatio's tank.

"You're talking to my turtle," he murmured tiredly. "Don't give him too many of those pellets, he'll stuff himself..."

"I brought veggies," Ororo said, lifting a leaf and waving it as proof. The word 'veggies' sounded odd in her slightly accented voice, but she had lived in America, and around students for that matter, long enough to have picked up at least that much. "But I will not give him too many."

"Can't be having fat turtles," Scott sighed, swinging both legs over the bed and sitting up, wincing at the way his head spun. "Well," he muttered, rubbing at the back of his neck. "Been a hell of a long time since I had to have Charles put me to sleep..."

'Ro finished shredding the last of the mustard leaves and placed them on a rock, watching as Horatio made his slow, steady way towards them. She turned toward Scott, taking in the rumpled bedsheets and nodding. "Still, it is good that you did so. Rest is important."

"At least I didn't dream." Scott looked up at her for a long moment, the unhappiness surfacing through the residual haze of sleep. "How the hell did this happen, 'Ro?" he asked more softly.

"I could not say," Ororo replied, shaking her head. She found that she had linked her fingers together and squeezed them tightly for a moment before letting go. Slowly she crossed the room towards the bed. "It seems that everything has turned on its head... and I don't know how or why. I am only sorry that you must go through this. You don't deserve it, not at all."

"I dropped the ball in yours and Alison's laps, I know. I'm sorry." He rubbed at his unshaven jaw, sighing shakily. "I just know that I don't have my head on straight right now. You don't want me anywhere near the team this week."

"It is fine," she stated assuredly, stopping before him. "There is no need to feel guilt over this, we will manage until you are ready." Stress had been steadily building for Ororo ever since her own visit with Jean, but she knew it was nothing compared to what Scott was going through. Pushing away feelings of selfishness was second nature to her now, and she smiled down at him. "I will use it as an excuse to work the others harder."

Scott stared up at her for a moment and then reached out and took her hands. "I trust you and Al," he said quietly, "with anything and everything, from my life right up to the lives of everyone in this mansion. I'm not worried about that. I just..." He blinked a bit rapidly. "I thought I was doing well, you know. Not letting this knock me down."

"I do not think there is a person here that blames you for what you have done," Ororo said, threading her fingers with his. "Even the most flexible reed can snap if the winds are too high."

"Again with the pithy metaphors." He stared down at their linked hands, wondering if he should tell her. Whether he needed to stop telling people in general... but this was Ororo. She and Alison, at least, had to know, for some very important reasons. "I don't know..." He swallowed as his throat tried to close. "I don't know that I'm going to be able to... be much of a leader to Bobby."

Ororo nodded her understanding, squeezing his fingers. Though in her mind there was a clear line between team leader and friend, she knew she couldn't expect Scott to overlook what had happened so easily. "It will not be an issue for some time," she said, at least able to offer that much.

She knew. He relaxed, not bothering to ask why, or how. She knew, and she wasn't smacking him upside the head for admitting that there was every likelihood that he wasn't going to be objective about this for a long, long time to come. "Thanks," he said a bit faintly. "I suppose I needed to say that and know it was all right."

"Scott..." Ororo bit her lip, hesitating for a moment before speaking again. "You don't have to stay here, you know. If you feel it would be best for you to go somewhere else for a time... You should."

"I don't think I should. Not right now. If I went to Phillip and Deborah's, I'm not sure I'd come back," Scott confessed after a moment, his voice very soft. "And I'm not just making that joke this time. I just..." He stopped and shook his head, regret and sorrow and bitter betrayal written all over his face. "There have been X-Men I haven't liked particularly. There's never been an X-Man I thought I couldn't trust."

A warm weight sank onto the bed beside him. "What he has done... I cannot understand it." Even her own clashing with Haroun was nothing compared to this. "We must think of what to do. Perhaps... perhaps we will change things."

"If this doesn't stop him from doing his job, maybe we shouldn't." Scott stopped and rested his head in his hand for a moment, sighing. The headache was down to a dull throbbing. He supposed it would have been too much to expect it to go away entirely. "Personal crap, right?" he asked a bit thickly. "My personal crap, nonetheless. I should be able to keep it separate. I should be."

"But if it stops you from doing your job..." Ororo shook her head, her lips curving into a frown. Scott was more than just a friend, when it all came down to it. He was headmaster, team leader, and one of the only people who knew the intricate workings of the school and the X-men well enough to keep them running smoothly. They needed him there. 'Ro needed him there too.

"It won't." He patted her hand, trying to muster up a reassuring smile. The expression was probably pretty grotesque. "I'll be all right, 'Ro. I just... need to get my feet back under me, see how this all fits together. It will. We always make it fit."

"Yes... yes, we do. Sometimes I wonder how. But there are so many other things for us to worry about... Take all the time you need, Scott. Do not rush this."

"Talent, skill, and persistence," was his almost absent answer. He patted her hand again. "I feel better," he said, knowing damned well that he wasn't walking out that door today. Sleep had helped, if not that much.

"Is there anything I can bring you?" Ororo asked gently.

"Couple more changes of clothes, if you can salvage them from my room?" he asked. "I'd take Institute sweats, if not."

"Of course. I will do that soon. And bring more food for Horatio - he likes it better than pellets."

Scott gave her a long look. "We'll get through this," he said, and they both knew he wasn't talking about Bobby, but Jean. He tried futilely to smile. "I mean, we did it once..." As soon as the words were out of his mouth, his expression crumpled and he leaned over and hugged her almost desperately.

Ororo returned the hug with equal intensity, shutting her eyes tightly. She felt the loss of Jean in a different way - not as a wife and lover, but as a friend. A friend who had welcomed her to the school, who hadn't laughed at her attempts at learning the proper way to conduct herself. A friend who had been with her through situations both life and sanity-threatening. And now she was gone, replaced by this other Jean who smirked and acted in the most terrible ways possible.

"I don't get it," Scott said brokenly. "I just don't. I go over all of it over and over in my head, and I don't see how this happened. I think I'm driving myself crazy trying."

"Don't think," she replied, the clouds outside the window gathering and darkening ominously. "There is no reason for this. None."