Shadow King: Oh So Quiet (Scott/Moira)
Feb. 6th, 2008 09:50 am![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
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xp_logsScott and Moira stop to take stock, and realize just how little they know.
He had a definite sense of deja vu. Staring down at the unconscious form of his mentor and surrogate father, Scott rubbed at the scars on the side of his face and tried, for about the hundredth time in the last several hours, to organize his thoughts. It was harder than it should have been, with the strange, strange things bubbling up the link from Jean no matter how he tried to block it. But he had to focus.
The door opened, and he looked back over his shoulder to see a grim-faced Moira. "Please tell me you've got something."
She shook her head once, sharply, as she moved into the room to stand next to him. Moira gazed down on Charles for a second, a bleak look in her eyes, before she bent over him and started to check vitals again. "Nothin' more than we dinnae already know," she said softly. "I jus' checked in on Cain and he's the verra same as when we last saw him. All we know is somethin' went after them an' whatever it was..."
"They weren't even sure what exactly was going on with Cain." That had been the whole point of all of them going in, to have reserves to face whoever or whatever was doing this. "When we don't even know that, how do we figure out what happened to them? Call in another telepath, risk having the same thing happen?"
Scott was struggling to try and control his frustration, keep his voice low. They possibly shouldn't be having this discussion in the same room with Charles, who wasn't sedated, just... very stubbornly comatose. It was strange. Part of Scott wanted him to wake up, part of him didn't. He had absolutely no idea what had gone wrong and needed Charles's insight. But if Charles woke up as wrong as the others...
"An' we both know tha' even if we did find another telepath volunteer, ye wouldnae let them within' shoutin' distance of 'ere," Moira said, not unkindly. They simply could not risk anyone else at this stage, even if they were in desperate need of information. Finished with looking over Charles, she straightened, her hand trailing down to take her old friend's hand between her own. "I'm still runnin' tests but I doubt they will tell us much more."
"Could this just be... psionic shock, something like that?" Scott asked, trying to keep the note of desperately less than blatantly obvious. If there was any possibility of them shaking this off after a couple of days' rest and being able to explain what had happened... it would be a place to start.
Now, Moira turned to face him and for a split second there was a bleak look in her eyes -- she was struggling with weird link feedback as well and the only thing she could thank her blessings on was that Rachel was sequestered on Muir. But what if it spread? She blinked and it was gone. "It could be," she said, though it was obvious she really didn't think so.
"But you don't think so." And they couldn't rely on it, either. Scott rubbed his eyes, then took a deep breath and squared his shoulders. "All right. We need to get back in touch with Strange, see what else he can tell us. I know from listening to you and Charles over the years that there are at least a few other specialists we can call who might have some insight." Medical specialists, that was - people who'd studied psionics. It wasn't the same thing as a telepath, but Moira was right about the risks.
"I'll make some calls, pull in a few favors," she responded, nodding to herself. "It cannae hurt, tha's for sure. I do that, ye give th' good doctor a call ta see if he has anythin' new?" Moira gave Charles' hand a quick, gentle squeeze before putting it back down. Her hands hovered for a moment before she smoothed out the creases on his blanket that covered him. "We'll get ta th' bottom of this, Scott," she told him, voice firm. "And sooner rather than later, I promise ye tha'."
"We'd better," Scott said hollowly. He gazed down at Charles for a moment. "Whatever happens..." he muttered under his breath - but couldn't finish it. Not this time. He wasn't even acknowledging the possibility this time.
He had a definite sense of deja vu. Staring down at the unconscious form of his mentor and surrogate father, Scott rubbed at the scars on the side of his face and tried, for about the hundredth time in the last several hours, to organize his thoughts. It was harder than it should have been, with the strange, strange things bubbling up the link from Jean no matter how he tried to block it. But he had to focus.
The door opened, and he looked back over his shoulder to see a grim-faced Moira. "Please tell me you've got something."
She shook her head once, sharply, as she moved into the room to stand next to him. Moira gazed down on Charles for a second, a bleak look in her eyes, before she bent over him and started to check vitals again. "Nothin' more than we dinnae already know," she said softly. "I jus' checked in on Cain and he's the verra same as when we last saw him. All we know is somethin' went after them an' whatever it was..."
"They weren't even sure what exactly was going on with Cain." That had been the whole point of all of them going in, to have reserves to face whoever or whatever was doing this. "When we don't even know that, how do we figure out what happened to them? Call in another telepath, risk having the same thing happen?"
Scott was struggling to try and control his frustration, keep his voice low. They possibly shouldn't be having this discussion in the same room with Charles, who wasn't sedated, just... very stubbornly comatose. It was strange. Part of Scott wanted him to wake up, part of him didn't. He had absolutely no idea what had gone wrong and needed Charles's insight. But if Charles woke up as wrong as the others...
"An' we both know tha' even if we did find another telepath volunteer, ye wouldnae let them within' shoutin' distance of 'ere," Moira said, not unkindly. They simply could not risk anyone else at this stage, even if they were in desperate need of information. Finished with looking over Charles, she straightened, her hand trailing down to take her old friend's hand between her own. "I'm still runnin' tests but I doubt they will tell us much more."
"Could this just be... psionic shock, something like that?" Scott asked, trying to keep the note of desperately less than blatantly obvious. If there was any possibility of them shaking this off after a couple of days' rest and being able to explain what had happened... it would be a place to start.
Now, Moira turned to face him and for a split second there was a bleak look in her eyes -- she was struggling with weird link feedback as well and the only thing she could thank her blessings on was that Rachel was sequestered on Muir. But what if it spread? She blinked and it was gone. "It could be," she said, though it was obvious she really didn't think so.
"But you don't think so." And they couldn't rely on it, either. Scott rubbed his eyes, then took a deep breath and squared his shoulders. "All right. We need to get back in touch with Strange, see what else he can tell us. I know from listening to you and Charles over the years that there are at least a few other specialists we can call who might have some insight." Medical specialists, that was - people who'd studied psionics. It wasn't the same thing as a telepath, but Moira was right about the risks.
"I'll make some calls, pull in a few favors," she responded, nodding to herself. "It cannae hurt, tha's for sure. I do that, ye give th' good doctor a call ta see if he has anythin' new?" Moira gave Charles' hand a quick, gentle squeeze before putting it back down. Her hands hovered for a moment before she smoothed out the creases on his blanket that covered him. "We'll get ta th' bottom of this, Scott," she told him, voice firm. "And sooner rather than later, I promise ye tha'."
"We'd better," Scott said hollowly. He gazed down at Charles for a moment. "Whatever happens..." he muttered under his breath - but couldn't finish it. Not this time. He wasn't even acknowledging the possibility this time.
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