Scott and "others", Tuesday night

[x-cyclops.livejournal.com]

Scott's not alone in the dark. It's possible that this isn't a good thing.


"How are you holding up?"

Jim was just kind of... there, crouched down beside him and directing one of those calmly concerned looks at him. Scott stared at him, slightly bothered by the fact that he was seeing him, which didn't make any sense, given that... the thought that involved why it didn't make any sense fluttered away into the haze inside his skull like a piece of paper in the wind.

"I... I'm not sure."

The telepath gave him a lopsided smile. "Well, I can't say I blame you. I mean, the drugs, the physical stress, the psychological ramifications of a near-complete removal from reality . . . that'll mess with your head. All things considered, though, you're doing pretty well."

Near-complete removal from reality... Was that what was happening? Scott leaned against the wall behind him - he remembered how long it had taken him to find a wall, and how he had intended to crawl around until he mapped the confines of wherever he was, only then they'd come back for him and when they'd brought him back, he'd been too sore and exhausted to do it.

"I'm losing track of time," he said hoarsely.

"Self-defense mechanism. Remember what Charles taught you. Give your mind something else to work on. The Danger Room scenarios you had upcoming for this week. Your fall course syllabus. The themesongs to old sitcoms. It can be anything. Just give yourself something to do so you don't" the apparition of the younger man raised one hand to his temple and made slow circling motions with his index finger, "you know."

"Go completely fucking looney, that's what he means," Cain stood behind where Jim was crouched next to Scott. "Because when you start losing connection with what's outside your head and you get stuck with just what's inside?" He leaned over and chuckled at Scott. "That's when you lose it, man."

And now Cain was there. Okay then. "I'm not losing it," he muttered, feeling a flash of stubbornness. "I'm... I know what they're doing. I read about it." And Charles had talked to him about it, a few times. He knew the tactics.

Jim nodded. "Well, that's good. That you know, I mean. As long as you know you you know what it is you can't let them know." He frowned, then looked askance at Cain. "That makes sense, right?"

It didn't, really. That probably wasn't a good thing, Scott reflected bleakly, his head sagging back against the wall. Because he needed to remember. All of that. Whatever that was. Except the things he wasn't supposed to remember because remembering meant he might tell them, and he wasn't supposed to do that.

Except he wasn't sure he remembered why. Which was even more frightening.

"Look at him," Cain mumbled, throwing up his hands in contempt. "Just laying there and giving up. But hey, that's what he does best, right? Lay there and take it? He made sure his little brother was safe, so it doesn't matter what happens to him." He shrugged and paced away, not even acknowleding Scott. "Pretty funny that the guy who's all about being the great leader can't find it in him to fight back right now."

"Shut up," Scott muttered without thinking, leaning forward and ignoring the way of dizziness as he did. "Pushing. Always pushing..." He raised his hands, his shoulders aching sharply, worse with the weight of the restraints on his wrists - they felt like they weighed a ton, although maybe that was his imagination, too - and felt along the wall.

"Damn right!" the figment of Scott's imagination that was expressing itself as Cain Marko bellowed. "Always pushing! Everyone's always pushing you, Scotty! Be responsible, be personable, be friendly, be professional - push, push, push! Well, dammit, for once in your damn fool life, push back!"

"I'm TRYING!" Loud. Too loud. Scott froze, the blood in his veins turning to ice as he heard... something, muffled noises, echoing oddly. Outside? He leaned against the wall, shivering. It hadn't been long enough, had it? They wouldn't be coming back for him yet.

Except he had no idea how long it had been. He listened to the noise, trying to imagine what they were. Not quite thudding. Footsteps? That's what they were. Maybe. Except they were going back and forth, not stopping. Going in circles? That didn't make sense.

"Hey, relax," the representation of Jim soothed, calm and completely incongruous against Cain's abuse. "You know what they're trying to do. They're relying on the negative anticipation to be just as effective as the actual interrogations. Don't think about what's coming. Focus on what's happening now. You can just about handle that, right?"

He was breathing too fast. Needed to slow that down. "I just... I don't want to go back." It came out sounding like a plea, and it was hard to force the words out past the tightness in his chest. Not panicking. He was not going to panic. "I can't think straight. What happens if I tell them?"

"Then they either let you go," Cain said flatly, "or they kill you. These are folks who took a goddamn military strike force into a school for children - which do YOU think they're more likely to do, genius?"

"Considering what they've done so far, it doesn't look good," Jim agreed with something like regret in his voice. "But I guess the real question is -- if you gave them what they wanted to know, what would they use it for?"

Cain's words and Jim's words got all mixed up in Scott's head, or maybe not mixed up at all - there was a certain amount of clarity to it. The school. Children. The adamantium bonding process. Children being made into weapons? Scott leaned against the wall, a shaky sigh escaping him.

"I can't. Tell them. I can't..." His mind insisted on presenting him with the image of Kyle with adamantium claws. "Have to figure out how not to..."

"Don't worry," Cain said with a sardonic grin. "Can't get what ain't there. That's right, what they're looking for ain't in your head. Yeah, you were there. But what they're looking for, you never heard. That, kids, is what we call irony. They're going to torture you for something you don't even know."

"Which is good, because what you don't have, they can't get." Jim's mouth quirked in a sad smile. "Which means all that's left is you."

That... was not particularly comforting. Scott swallowed and started feeling his way along the wall again. Concentrate on something else. Figuring out the dimensions of where he was, if nothing else. He'd been in the dark before. He knew how to get around, how to map your surroundings when they were unfamiliar...

And then he heard the door open.