xp_logs | Scott and Ororo

Ororo's working on the incident report from Monaco without much success. Her fellow overworker-in-crime comes in to suggest she take a break, and finds that she needs much more than that.

...Nightcrawler responded with appropriate force, using a brick from the street to... Ororo made a disgusted noise, pushing herself forcibly away from the desk and turning her chair until she didn't have to see the glowing screen of her computer any longer. She had been working on the incident report for over an hour now, and she hadn't even gotten the bare bones of the entire evening onto the page. She knew she should just stop, leave it for a time when she wasn't bone-tired and sore, but she needed to get it out so that she could put it from her mind and stop dwelling on it. Perhaps this was keeping her from sleeping, but she wouldn't have been able to even if she hadn't been forcing herself to finish it.

"You know," came a soft voice from the doorway, "this doesn't work." Scott was standing there, leaning against the doorframe. The lines of pain were there in his face, as they still usually were at nights, but there was a great deal of worry, too, and all of it focused on Ororo. "I speak from personal experience. It doesn't look any better in black and white."

Glancing up, Ororo had to focus just to wipe the worst of the exhaustion from her face. "At least it would done, then," she sighed, turning her chair gradually until she could once again see the computer screen. It was just as blank as before, and just as taunting. "If I do not do this now, I am afraid I will put it off until it is too late."

"For what?" Scott straightened and crossed the room to stand by her desk, glancing down at the blank screen. "Seriously," he said quietly. "Records are good to keep, but there's no need for this one to be done tonight."

Ororo shook her head; how could she explain it? "If it is done, then I can work on putting it behind me. And I wish to, very much." Despite her words, she reached up to push the button on the edge of the screen. It flickered and then went dark, leaving her face in shadow. "This was... a difficult mission. But an important one for everyone else to know of. I must get the report finished."

"In the morning?" Scott suggested softly. She wouldn't have turned the screen off if she'd really intended to sit here until it was done. "You will get it done. Just not right now."

"I just need a break." Briefly, she wondered if she would even be ready to sit down and write it tomorrow... probably not. "I wish it was morning already," she murmured, knowing that there was still several hours until daybreak. "Things always look better in the sunlight."

Scott, silently, offered her a hand.

Ororo pulled herself up, a moment later putting her arms around him and pressing her cheek to his chest. She held him gingerly, knowing that he was still in pain, but needing the comfort of the embrace all the same. "How could I let that happen?" she asked, her voice a tight whisper. "At each turn, things grew worse, and they were already so bad to begin with..."

Scott's arms went around her, holding her tightly without a moment's hesitation. "They're alive," he said softly. "Everyone's alive, and you brought them home." That much, he'd established. He was almost afraid to know the details, though.

"After all we teach them... everything we say about morals, and responsibility... does it even get through? Do they even listen? What is the point of Charles' ethics class if the moment they leave these walls, they forget everything we said?" She wasn't making any sense, she knew, and it wasn't making her feel any better to be spouting nonsense. "The girl... the new mutant that we brought back. They were keeping her, Scott, like a prisoner, and he... he was feeding off her. Like she was just a... non-entity." Even with her growing agitation, her diction remained clear.

"One thing at a time," he murmured. Despite her words, Ororo's agitation wasn't triggering the same in him. Just sadness, and somewhat detached sadness at that. Right now, she was more important to him than whatever had happened with Marius and Jennie. "We'll help the girl. And we'll straighten out what went wrong with the other two."

"If we can," Ororo said with a bitter laugh, her hands balling in his shirt. "I am beginning to think that we are not as good as helping people as we thought, Scott. Only at hurting them." The memory of Kurt's arm - a blue blur terminating in the ugly chunk of brick in his hand - coming down, over and over, the stain of blood growing and spattering the pavement flashed before her eyes and she closed them reflexively, as if she could block it out.

"Come sit down." He guided her over to the small couch along the far wall and eased her down with him, not letting go. "We do what we can. You've told me that before. Sometimes there's nothing we can do, sometimes we can't do everything we wish we could do... that doesn't mean we stop trying. Or that we give up hope that we can do more good than harm." This was a strange reversal of positions here. And it hurt to see Ororo despairing like this. "Think of the girl," he murmured finally. "Even if you can't believe right now that we will help her, at least she's got a chance to be helped now."

She forced herself to take one deep breath, then another. Losing her calm wouldn't help, even if she wanted nothing more than to just let all her frustrations and worries out for once. "You are right, of course," she sighed, nodding resignedly. "This is a better place for her. I am glad she is with us now." There wasn't much force behind the words, and her shoulders slumped as she leaned against the couch and him. "Charles and Moira will do all they can for her."

"We all do." Scott was quiet for a long moment. "You need a vacation, 'Ro," he said finally, and not at all facetiously. "It's been a hard few months."

"Not now," Ororo said immediately with a shake of her head. "I am sorry, Scott, I know I must sound… fatalistic, but it is just that I have not had much sleep. There is no time for a vacation now, there is too much to do and I would not feel right, leaving. Perhaps when things settle down." To her credit, she said this last part with a straight face.

"Then take some time for yourself here. Make sure you spend a few hours outside, while the weather's still good. I can pick up the slack with the school work, at least..."

"There is no need for that... I am not so heavily burdened, truly. But I have promised Amara a trip to the nursery, and there are some plants I must see to before the weather turns cold. I will be sure to make an effort to do so in the next few days." Ororo turned to him and smiled - it was the old, familiar game they played. Convincing one another they were well enough so that they could continue forging ahead. An old game, perhaps, but one that they were very good at. "I promise."

Scott's expression was somber, though, with no sign of an answering smile. His hand came up, brushing her cheek almost hesitantly. "I worry about you," he said soberly. "Probably just as much as you worry about me, come to think of it..."

"Then it probably isn't healthy for either of us," she replied, her smile fading. "This was just a bad mission, Scott. That's all. I will be fine, once I write my report and explain to Charles why we are getting a fifty-thousand euro bill from the Monte Carlo police squad."

He lowered his hand to cover hers, squeezing gently. "He's good about clearing up the little details. And he doesn't even send us to our rooms to think about what we did anymore."

"Perhaps not. But I still think that is where I belong, now. I will not be able to get any more work done tonight." Shifting where she sat, Ororo looked at Scott seriously for a moment, and then leaned in to hug him again. "Thank you, for being here. I do not think I could do all this if you were not."

"I'm here as long as you're here," he murmured, his arms going around her tightly again. It was an old promise, one they'd traded back and forth years ago, when they'd both been much younger, whenever things got too complicated or frustrating or difficult. Hank and Jean had been older, more sure of what they were doing and where they were going in life. He and Ororo hadn't always had that certainty at first. But they'd been able to lean on each other when they needed it.

Ororo nodded, her cheek bunching up the fabric of his shirt. "Thank you," she whispered again, unable to voice anything else beside that unerring gratitude. Tomorrow she would have to get up and face everything that had happened, as well as go on with the school, and the team, and the gaggle of students that would surely be crowding at her door wanting to know what had happened. "I think I need to go to bed."

"And I think I'll make sure you get there." He didn't move to get up, though. Not just yet. They weren't in any rush, and he had a strong suspicion that Ororo wouldn't mind a minute or two longer to make absolutely sure she could make it from the office to her suite in a composed fashion. He knew her too well.

There were no tears, no sobs, no declarations of regret or misgivings. They just sat like that for several long minutes as the trees outside scratched at windows like petulant children. Gradually Ororo's grip on Scott's shirt lessened and she straightened, pulling away from him slowly. Giving him a tremulous smile, she reached up to smooth her hands over her hair. "Well. It is late."

"So it is. My cat will scold me." He rose slowly, moving with visible stiffness, and offered her a hand. "Come on. You and I can keep each other company on the way upstairs."

Ororo took his hand and walked with him slowly towards the door, switching off the lamp with a flick of her finger. She was moving a bit stiffly herself, and couldn't keep from chuckling dryly as they headed down the hallway. "You know, with my hair and your wrinkles, we must look like a couple of old geezers..."

"Wrinkles? Pah. Bite your tongue."