Scott and Lorna, middle of Thursday night

[x-cyclops.livejournal.com]

Lorna and Scott both have insomnia. They run into each other in the kitchen and find out that worries about their respective Significant Others are probably major contributing factors.


It was well past midnight. Even the TV in the rec room was silent, the latest of the late night viewers having given up in the face of infomercials and movies from the seventies that had been awful even then. Lorna couldn't sleep and her kitchen was a mess--the inevitable result of trying to cook with one hand--so she wandered down to the main kitchen in order to make another mess there. Right now, she was muttering to herself and fighting with a package of cheese. She was not going to be defeated by a block of cheddar, bum shoulder or no.

"You're being thwarted by cheese." The voice from the doorway was soft, subdued in deference to the hour and... other things. Scott leaned against the doorframe, watching her work for a moment. He was in a t-shirt and school sweatpants, his hair rumpled and the dark circles under his eyes impossible to miss even in the softer light. "Can I help?"

Lorna tossed her hair, "I am not," she declared indignantly and glared at the cheese, "I'm just...having technical difficulties." She glared a moment more then held it out to him, "But yes, certainly. I can always use an assistant." Her gaze softened when she looked at him. She hadn't seen him since they brought him back, not wanting to get in the way. Her part had been small and could remain that way.

"I take direction well," Scott said, just as quietly, and moved forward into the kitchen, still moving with visible stiffness. He was still sore in places even during the days, and during the night, it just got worse. His system reacting to the lack of sunlight again, he supposed. "How much of this do you want grated?"

She gestured him toward a chair. "About..." she frowned and marked a spot on the cheese, "that much." That should be enough for what she was making. She probably should figure out what that was, right now it was just a random gathering of ingredients. "How are you feeling?"

"Not too bad, I suppose," Scott said, taking the cheese from her and then sitting down. "Like I got hit by one truck, instead of six..." He started grating the cheese, very carefully and very precisely. "I ought to be up there in my suite under the full-spectrum light bulbs, I guess."

"Probably. We don’t have those in the kitchen. But I'll bet there isn't anything to do up there and you were slowly losing your mind, right?" Chicken. She could make something with chicken. Did they have any limes? "I know I was. Stupid empty suite and no one left to talk to."

Scott's jaw trembled for a moment - empty suite, no one left to talk to - but he kept grating the cheese, doggedly. "Jean was... sleeping. I couldn't. I'm having trouble sleeping. You'd think it would be the opposite, with how tired I still am."

"No. Not really." Lorna shrugged, "You sleep to get away from it but it catches up and won't let you go." Oh good, they did have limes. She cut one up and tosses some chicken in a pan to grill. "I guess it goes away after a while. Things get better. That's what they say anyway."

Has it for you? Scott wanted to ask, but didn't. "I'll be all right," he said, his voice lighter, but more brittle-sounding, too. "Watch. I'll have a color-coded spreadsheet by next week to see me through all the different stages of recovery."

"Samson probably has one with animals on it. He's a fiend for animals. Bunnies." Lorna sometimes caught herself talking and wondered what the hell she was saying. When things became so automatic that she didn't even connect to it. Like watching TV with the sound off, unreal. "Maybe it's the whole kids thing. Kids like animals. You can't expect to schedule it though. Things don't really. We just like to pretend they do."

"And there are always complications you don't see..." Scott realized he'd stopped grating, and forced himself to focus on the task at hand. "I might do the spreadsheet anyway. Just to make myself feel better."

"Tell me if that works. I like spreadsheets. They're nice and simple and understandable." She should really just shut up. Make food. She was good at that. Could control that. "It's funny. You disappeared and we were all out within hours. Remy's been gone a week and I wasn't worried until yesterday."

"Remy's gone?" Scott looked up at her, frowning a little.

"Since last Wednesday, Amanda says. No one has heard from him or knows where he might have gone." Lorna focused on her cooking. "She posted about it. Yesterday she emailed me. Was nearly civil too which must mean she's scared stiff."

"I'm sorry. I hope he turns back up soon," Scott said. It sounded like such a pointless sort of thing to say. But there was nothing he could do, one way or the other. "You could... ask Charles, to look for him?"

"Charles has had other things to focus on." Lorna said sharply then winced. "Sorry. Yeah, I'll probably ask him to look. Remy's not really in any shape to be running into trouble on his own and something happened that Amanda isn't telling me about, I'm sure of it."

Scott went back to grating the cheese. "'Tis the month for disappearances, I guess," he murmured. "Although it doesn't make sense for Amanda to be holding something back if she's that desperate to find him..."

"Maybe she doesn't think it's relevant. She mentioned Charlie." Lorna shrugged and fussed over some rice. "I'm worried though. But what can I do?"

"Hey, you all found me." Scott swallowed, and finished grating the indicated portion of cheese. He pushed the bowl towards Lorna. "I'm sure Remy will turn up safe and sound and not requiring a rescue."

Lorna frowned, "For you, we had some idea of who we were looking for if not where. And every X-Man mobilized that day to find you. Remy's been missing a week and I have no idea where to look and no one to help in any case." She took the cheese and sighed, "I'm sorry. I shouldn't be dumping all this on you. You don't need my stress on top of your own."

Scott stared down fixedly at his hands. "No one to help... the team would help, if you asked." He was speaking out of turn, here, but he thought he could speak for Ororo with some confidence, still... "I know, it's the having nowhere to look that's the problem right now, but..." He bit off the rest of what he'd been about to say, aware that his hands were shaking again. "We'd help," he said, almost inaudibly. "Remy was one of us, however he feels about Charles and the mansion these days."

"I know that the team would never turn a blind eye simply because he has left." Lorna shook her head, "Never mind, Scott. Really. Let's talk about something else because there isn't anything that I can do right now. Remy could be partying in Vegas for all I know." It was easier to let the cooking take up all of her attention. She needed it anyway. Her shoulder was hurting again.

"Something else..." Scott watched her work for a minute or two. "Jean's leaving," he volunteered.

Lorna dropped the plate with the cheese. It shattered as it hit the floor, spraying glass and cheddar every which way. Lorna didn't even notice. "Leaving? Where? Why?"

"Tibet. To work on controlling herself." Scott hadn't flinched at the breaking plate. "Next week. Charles suggested it."

Lorna was silent for a long moment then turned stiffly to get the broom. "I supposed that's good. For her sake, I mean." She couldn't look at him. Didn't dare.

If she had, she might have been surprised by the distant, oddly distracted expression Scott was wearing. "I told her to go," he murmured. "And to send me postcards about yaks. Anyway..." He started to get up - then sat back down hard, breathing a bit raggedly. "I still don't feel well at nights," he muttered, white around the lips. "Sun goes down and everything hurts more..."

She finished sweeping the cheese and glass into a pile then into the thankfully metal dustpan before going to his side. "Let's get you upstairs to your lights." She wrapped her good arm around his waist to hold him on his stool. One hastily reshaped iron skillet for leverage and she had a decent grip to be able to carry him.

"One-armed woman carting a one-eyed man up to bed... there's humor in this," was Scott's somewhat sluggish reply.

"They're probably not the kind that you can tell in polite company," Lorna responded, guiding them up the steps. Who thought it was a good idea to put the staff on the third floor anyway?