Scott and Dr. Barnett, Wednesday afternoon

[x-cyclops.livejournal.com]

As he admitted to Ororo over email, Scott actually slipped away to town to meet a little early with Dr. Barnett, his new therapist. She gets an earful, but steers Scott towards the beginnings of one small part of a solution.


"Thanks for seeing me on such short notice," Scott said slowly, walking into the office and mustering up a faint smile for Ruth Barnett. "I know we had a session scheduled for Friday, but... it's not been such a great day. Couple of days. Something like that," he conceded tiredly, sitting down in one of the chairs.

The tall woman smiled at Scott, nodding her understanding as she crossed her legs and leaned forward in her own chair. "Of course. I'm happy to see you now, Scott. Why don't you tell me about the last few days?"

"Well." He took a deep breath, then let it out on a sigh. "One of our students got himself into some... difficulties, on the weekend. He's going to be fine, but it could have been very bad for him." The possibilities, even now... what if Toad hadn't been alone?

"I didn't handle... bringing him back home where he belonged as well as I should have," Scott went on, swallowing. "It was... a bit of a dangerous situation. My reaction time was off, and I wasn't thinking clearly about what needed to be done."

"Why weren't you thinking clearly?" the woman asked, her voice low and smooth.

"Because one of my students was being beaten up inside, and we went in knowing he'd been there all night," Scott said painfully. "I just-" He caught himself rubbing at the scars on his face, and lowered his hand back to his lap. "I'm stressing out too much about this, aren't I?" he asked quizzically. "He's fine, he's safe, and yet I'm tearing around being obsessive and yelling at everyone involved because they didn't do it exactly the way I wanted..."

"Well, many people would probably say that the ends justify the means," Dr. Barnett said, lifting one eyebrow. "If he's safe and sound then yes, you should probably acknowledge that you at least accomplished that much, and feel proud of it."

"I know." Scott's expression was almost lost as he looked up at her. "I mean, I know, but I don't know. I can't..." His jaw clenched for a moment and he looked away. "I can't remember the last time I looked at something I'd done and saw the good in it instead of all the ways it went wrong, or could have gone wrong..."

"Evaluating your own actions and other's is not necessarily a bad thing, Scott. It's quite necessary for growth, improvement, and learning. I think you can agree, however, that when it becomes all you focus on that it becomes a roadblock to real self-improvement. Maybe the next step for you is to change those habits of constant evaluation and criticism so that you get a more well-balanced view of things."

"It's more complicated than that," Scott protested, but frowned, thinking about it. Hadn't he just talked about this with Ororo? How much of what they did, as team leaders, they really needed to do... how much was redundant, what could be delegated... "It's like every time I try to relax, something else comes along and blindsides me," he said, without really thinking about what he was saying. "So much of the time, it's stuff that's my responsibility... ultimately, at least, even if there's not a damned thing I could have done to stop it from happening in the first place. It's like I can't ever rest," he said a bit hollowly, remembering what he'd said to Charles. "I have to be this... this person, and frankly, I'm starting to suck at it."

"This doesn't sound like a sacrifice you're happy to make," Dr. Barnett observed. "Though I don't doubt that you're needed in that role, it can't be good for anyone if you are resentful of it."

"I'm not resentful of it," Scott said, and that was definitely a lump in his throat. "I'm not. If I was, if I really hated it, this would be so much easier. Because then I could just walk away." Instead, he was making himself unfit to do the job. Lose-lose situation, and Scott made a frustrated noise, running his hand through his hair. "I just want something to go right!" he burst out. "For once. Just for once."

The blonde woman sat, unruffled, as Scott vented his frustrations. "I'm sure something has gone right," she said after he had finished. "Maybe not something as big and monumental as you would've hoped for, but something nonetheless. Can you think of anything that's happened in the past few days that was good? A student learning something new? A talk with a friend? A rewarding workout?"

"..." He had to think about that for a moment. "I guess... Sunday, after all of this was done, I was out with a friend." Absurdly, he smiled a little, if sheepishly, at the memory. "My, uh, co-headperson at the school. We had a good carping session, but it turned into more silliness than anything else..."

"Well, that certainly sounds enjoyable," Dr Barnett said, smiling.

"It was." Scott rubbed at his eye, then took a deep breath, telling himself to calm down. "Ororo... in some ways, it's so much easier with her. Because she understands. She does the same job as I do, she felts the same way a lot of the time, but she sees things her own way." He swallowed again. "In other ways, it's worse. Because here's my best friend, and if I don't get myself sorted out, here, I'm going to leave her to try and carry on by herself..."

"And your mind automatically turns to the worst-case scenario. You've let yourself be sidetracked again into guilt and regret."

Scott made a helpless gesture. "That's... I don't mean to do that. I don't." He rested his hand in his hand for a moment. "This is so stupid," he said, his voice muffled. "I had this conversation this morning that threw me for a loop, too. One of my colleagues... found out something that happened, and wanted to talk about it..."

"What came of that?"

"Nothing. Nothing's ever going to come of that particular topic." His chest was so tight it was hard to force it out. "I told you, at our first session, a little bit about what happened with Jean..." He'd had to, after all. Leaving Jean out of the explanation of why he was seeing a therapist would have been wholly dishonest. "There was... while she was ill, she slept with someone at the school. A former student. Then she sent me the tape."

Dr. Barnett's expression did change at this, to one of mild shock. "Have you addressed this with Jean at all?"

Rubbing at his scars again. He really needed to stop that. "Not really," he said hoarsely. "Because there was something that happened after that, and... it's so complicated." Scott closed his eyes for a moment, and told Dr. Barnett, in as few words as possible, about that evening at the club and his lost memories. "... and I think that wouldn't have happened unless... the tape had happened," Scott concluded miserably, "but I don't know. She won't even show me her memories, and I'm so afraid that it's because she's not telling me the truth about what happened. Because I... did something awful, and..." His throat closed completely, and Scott shook his head violently. "I'm so selfish," he forced out.

"No, Scott, I don't think selfish is the right word to describe you or your actions. There is nothing self-centered or egoistic about wanting to protect yourself from a painful subject, especially one so close to you. Though we may be the most highly developed animals on the planet, it all comes down to self-preservation in the end. It seems that you and Jean have suffered a loss of trust, which can be a big blow in any relationship. Before you can address the things that happened between you when she was ill, you need to regain that trust first and foremost."

"... I don't know how to do that." Scott stared across at her, uncertain. "I don't... you think it's that I don't trust her? I know she wasn't well, that she wouldn't have done those things if she'd... been thinking clearly." He bit his lip.

"You just told me you were afraid she wasn't telling you the truth. Whatever happened before aside, it's understandable that you may not be able to trust her as you once did."

"But it wasn't her-" Scott's jaw locked on the word 'fault' as he reflected on just how angry Jean would be if she heard him say that. But was she right, to be angry? Didn't she get to cut herself a little slack? After what Matthews had done, most especially... Scott rested his head in his hand again, silent for a long moment.

"I don't feel like anything's stable," he said finally. "Or hardly anything. And I look ahead, a month down the line, six months, and I don't have any hope that it's going to get better in any kind of permanent way."

"What sort of stability are you looking for?" the woman asked, looking at Scott steadily. "What do you want to improve on?"

"I want..." His lips twitched in a sad, desperate little smile as he thought about it. "My first impulse is to say that I'd like Jean and I to be as happy as we were, but that's actually 'as I thought we were', I suppose." He rubbed at his jaw, sighing. "I'd like to be able to turn away from my job and have something to turn to. I don't mean permanently. I mean... just for a hour or two, without the to-do list running constantly through my head."

"All right. So you want happiness with your wife, a pasttime you enjoy, and a job that give you the time to appreciate both. That doesn't sound like a very selfish thing to me. Sounds like something a lot of people would hope for, actually."

"It sounds so simple when you put it like that," Scott muttered. Like someone he should just be able to reach out and have - something entirely normal.

"But it really isn't, is it?" she asked sympathetically. "That doesn't mean it's impossible, though. I think that it's quite acheivable, though maybe not immediately."

Scott mustered up a weak smile. "Which is good, because I don't think I'd trust you if you were offering a quick fix." He leaned back in the chair, breathing in. "Non-job-related pastimes don't just drop in your lap, do they? You actually have to make the choice to look for them."

"Yes, exactly. Which is why one of my assignments for you is to look for some that you think you might want to pursue. It could be anything... gardening, cooking, a martial arts, class... make a list. The longer, the better. Do you think you can do that?"

Scott nodded a bit jerkily, then surprised himself by smiling again, a little more steadily. "I can think of one thing, maybe. Right off the top of my head."

And he could drag Jean along to search the storerooms with him. His saxophone had to be somewhere.