Scott and Jean, Saturday

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Scott wakes up to find Jean sitting with him. He's not so far out of it that he doesn't notice there's something a little off with her. But they both notice something else, too.


He felt... better, Scott thought dimly as he opened his eyes. Still tired, still sore everywhere, but better. Through the glass ceiling above the bed, he saw that the sky was very, very blue again. Wonder if 'Ro's keeping the clouds away... He raised a hand and rubbed at his eye, willing it to clear. It took him a moment to realize that Jean was sitting beside the bed, watching him.

Which it shouldn't have, because she was in his head.

"Mind's fuzzy," he murmured in apology, turning his head on the pillow to look at her. "That painkillers, or something else...?" His throat didn't feel quite so raw anymore, although his voice was still rusty-sounding.

Reaching out, Jean took one of his hands, smiling slightly at him. "The painkillers, yeah, and the day of straight sleep, and the UV overdoses." She'd actually decided to just wear sunscreen as she stayed with him, since he needed the light and she needed him.

Scott mustered a brief flicker of a smile for her in return, his eyes drooping shut again for a moment. "Still here," he murmured, not sure whether it was a comment or an attempt to reassure himself. "Think I'm actually... feeling warm again." His forehead creased briefly. "The... room was cold, where I was. Between... when they were questioning me."

Jean's hand tightened, and only the knowledge that it was his hand kept her grip loose enough not to hurt him. "You are here," she said. "You're safe. Home."

"Going to take me a while. To get that through my head..." There was more he could have said. About how disjointed things felt. It was a little frightening. But he was here and she was here, and he could just let his mind go a little numb, and forget. Just for now. Couldn't he?

She could feel it - the disjointedness of his mind flickering at the corner of hers, the sense that he needed to forget it in order to deal with it - and Jean took a few deep breaths, trying to keep calm. "Well, you can have all the time you want, and more. I'm pretty okay with taking a while to get it through my head that you're back, too."

Scott made himself open his eyes and focus on her again. "I... told them something," he said uncertainly, his voice cracking. She had to know. So that... he wasn't sure why she had to know, but if she knew, it would be all right. "I'm not sure what. I d-didn't tell them everything they wanted to know, I know that... but I was so confused." His breathing was speeding up, getting ragged again, despite his best efforts to stay calm. "They made me think... made my mind play tricks on me, and I know the tactics, I just... it's different when you're in the middle of it." His eye was blurring again, and he tried to ignore the wetness trickling down his cheek.

Jean knew that it was a problem that her first impulse was to go hurt someone, badly, for this. She'd talked with Charles and she knew it. And she couldn't ignore it, but she didn't know how to change it. So, instead, she stood up and moved so she was sitting carefully on the edge of his bed, wiping away the tears gently and holding her tongue until she could come up with something to say that wasn't 'I'll kill them'.

He wasn't used to his emotions being this... volatile, or his thoughts skittering erratically around like small terrified animals like this. He couldn't have gotten stuck in one of his old familiar mental loops if he'd tried. Scott breathed in and out, trying to calm down. There was something oddly stony in Jean's eyes, despite the softness of her expression and the gentleness of his touch.

"I don't regret doing it." It wasn't entirely the truth, but he'd do it again in the same situation. In a heartbeat. "I couldn't... I could do something, Jean. Could make sure they didn't hurt Alex..." His voice faltered as he said it aloud, but it had been in the back of his mind when he'd gone with Lyman. That finally, here was someone he loved in trouble, and he could do more than pick up the pieces... he could stop anything worse from happening, and when was the last time he'd been able to say that?

Jean blinked sharply as she realized what he meant and it broke her heart a little more. "Oh, Scott..." Leaning down she kissed the hand she was still holding on to. "I can tell you it wasn't your fault until the cows come home, but it doesn't change anything, does it?" And he'd done this for Alex, would have done it for her - would have given everything, just to protect them.

Scott managed a tired, shaky flicker of smile. "I don't listen well?" She didn't laugh. He supposed there hadn't been a lot for her to laugh at, this last week. "I'm so sorry," he muttered feebly. "Putting you through all this..."

"Shh, Scott," she said, not attempting a smile cause she knew she wouldn't succeed. "It wasn't your fault. It wasn't your fault at all."

He was breathing too fast again. Anything he thought about it, anytime he tried to take a step back, there was nowhere to go. It was there like this yawning black hole in his mind, and it felt real, felt solid. More vivid than anything else, which made Scott start to wonder if this wasn't another one of Charles's mindscapes. Not real, just a distraction to try and keep him focused while he was waiting for help. Why didn't things feel real? His hand clenched spasmodically on Jean's.

"Tell me I'm not dreaming," he pleaded brokenly, his eye blurring with tears again. "Tell me I'm not..."

Locking the anger away wasn't an option anymore, it wasn't, but she had to be strong for him, had to be calm and careful and solid. Not trusting her voice not to betray her anger, she touched his mind, holding him tightly. #You're not, I swear you're not.# And he'd know about the anger, but she tried to keep it away from him as much as she could.

Pull yourself together, Summers, Scott thought, and concentrated on slowing his breathing back down. No panicking. He was here, he knew he was here. "Kept seeing things," he said more faintly. Trying to explain. "I think... the sunlight deprivation, maybe?"

"It could be," Jean said, her voice going flat in an effort to keep it from shaking. "Between that and the sensory deprivation and the... techniques..." there was no way to keep the anger out of her voice on that word, there just wasn't. "Could all be factors."

"I've doubted a lot of things in my life. Never really what was real," Scott said, letting the air in his lungs out on a shaky sigh. "That's new. Think I'll skip getting used to that sort of thing, though..."

"Definitely skipping that," Jean said, her voice tight. "And also the you getting kidnapped again."

There was something off about Jean. Something... he tried to grasp it, it was right there at the corner of his mind, but he couldn't reach it. It didn't even strike him what it meant, that he could feel it. He was just so tired...

Jean sensed him noticing, though, and while her first thought was 'don't let him see' her second was 'he can see it?' Her eyes widened, and suddenly the anger was gone in a wash of love that spilled into the link that was there. It was there. It was back.

Scott sighed again, less shakily, and just let go, relaxing with something close to a mental whimper into the warm, tender thoughts spilling down the link. Real. He could feel it.