xp_logs | Nicobar Reef: Heart of Oak

x-cyclops.livejournal.com posting in

On the way to Madripoor, Scott is cornered by the captain, who then seeks Jean's help to prove something - specifically, his identity.

"Weather's improving."

Scott's jaw tightened very slightly as the captain came up beside him at the side of the boat. He wasn't going to pretend he was pleased with this arrangement. 'Corsair' (and if that wasn't the most eye-rollingly stereotypical alias ever) and his people might have helped them get the kids out, but Jean couldn't be sure they were trustworthy, not with a surface scan. And Scott disliked this compromise very much. He would have much preferred to have the kids on the Blackbird and be on their way back to Sri Lanka. No sleep for me tonight...

"I'll be glad when we're into port," he said brusquely. Although he couldn't deny that the sunset was beautiful. The broken remnants of the stormclouds were massed on the horizon, dark purple mixed with red and gold, and the wind had died to a stiff breeze. If he hadn't been in potentially semi-hostile territory, it would have been enough to lull him into a certain degree of relaxation, after the stress of the fight.

"I'll be sorry, I have to admit. I don't see open water as much as I'd like these days." Corsair was giving him another one of those frankly assessing looks; Scott could see it out of the corner of his eye. "So," the older man said, smoothing his mustache in what looked almost like a nervous mannerism. "Make a habit of jumping out of planes?"

"I prefer flying them, actually." This was him getting sounded out, Scott thought. Fair enough; things were quiet, and he could maybe find out a little more about the other man. "Make a habit of rescuing stolen kids?"

"Regularly." There was unmistakable steel in the captain's voice, and Scott glanced sideways at him, taken aback. Corsair's grip on the railing was tight, his shoulders stiff, and Scott got the distinct impression that while the man was staring at the sunset, he wasn't really seeing it in that moment.

"I see." Personal issue, maybe? Scott had read enough background about Madripoor to know that slave trading was a problem. But he'd also seen enough of this boat and its crew to guess they were smugglers. Of everything else but people, maybe?

Corsair answered the unspoken question in the next moment. "I was human cargo once myself. I don't fancy seeing it happen to anyone else, let alone kids." His jaw tensed, then relaxed slightly, and he let go of the railing. "And you?"

"Same sentiment. Less personal experience."

"Well. That's good." Corsair looked sideways at him, and the assessing look was back. Uncomfortably intent again, too. Scott got the feeling he was being weighed and measured according to standards he didn't quite understand. It was making him decidedly uneasy. "So you do make a habit of getting into the middle of these situations, then?"

"I didn't say that." With most missions, the X-Men didn't actually have to hang around and answer questions afterwards. He'd forgotten how awkward it could be. "We're here in this situation. Let's just leave it at that."

"Mm. Close-mouthed, aren't you? Military? Although some of your team looks a little young-"

"Unless you want me quizzing you on what an American's doing captaining a 'pirate' boat out of Madripoor, how about we keep the inquisitiveness to a minimum?" Scott asked evenly. American was a guess, although the accent was right, if fainter that it should be and colored by the man's demonstrated fluency with more local languages.

Corsair gave a gravelly-sounding laugh. "Give and take? I'll tell you my story if you tell me yours... Scott."

Scott's jaw tightened. "Cyclops," he said. "Unless you're going to tell me that 'Corsair' is your real name. I should check on my team," he said brusquely, turning away before the older man could reply. Time to put an end to this conversation, definitely.

Corsair watched him go, shaking his head slightly, something close to a wondering look on his face. Then, very quietly, he went in search of another guest on his boat.

--

There were definitely times Jean wished she had Haller's skill with languages - she could understand the feelings and images in her small patient's mind but making herself understood beyond a gentle projection of safety and concern was problematic. After checking over several of the kids they'd relaxed more and she was making progress. "Just a little scratch," she said, knowing the tone would come across where the words didn't as she cleaned the little girl's arm. "You're gonna be just fine, sweetie."

"How are they doing?" Corsair asked from the doorway, after watching Jean with the girl for a few moments.

Jean didn't even look up from her patient as she said, "Pretty well. Mostly scrapes and bruises, although one of the boys broke his arm. One of your people got me some ties to get it braced and bound up and he'll be fine."

Corsair nodded slowly, and continued to watch the two of them as Jean finished her ministrations. Only at that point did he speak again. "I need to... talk to you," he said slowly. "In private. It's about your... about Cyclops," he said, a slight twist of irony to the words.

Now Jean did look over for a moment, face unreadable, then turned back to her patient. "Of course. I just need a moment here..." The scrape on the girl's arm cleaned off she put a band-aid over the widest part and smiled at her. "There you go - all better," she said, straightening up. "Free to go." The little girl regarded her seriously for a moment, clearly considering the noises and trying to make sense of them, then hopped up and rushed out of the room. "So then," she said, turning to their host.

Corsair moved forward into the room, almost restlessly, although he kept a certain degree of distance between himself and Jean - whether for his comfort or hers, it was unclear. "This is going to sound very odd," he said, "and the only reason I'm asking is that you've already used your ability to... verify that I was being truthful about sending these kids back with your team once we reached Madripoor. But I need you to read my mind again."

Jean arched an eyebrow, face still unreadable. "See, that's not a reason to ask me to do this. Maybe it's the reason you're okay asking for it, but I'd be interested in knowing why you want me to."

A gruff laugh was the only answer she got for a moment. Corsair smoothed his mustache again, then cleared his throat. "Well. I'll be blunt - I honestly don't think you'll believe what I have to tell you if I just say it. It hardly seems possible, but I just stood up on the deck of my ship and talked to him, and..." He cleared his throat again, more harshly this time. Not meeting Jean's eyes. "I knew as soon as I got a good look at him, but I know he won't believe it from me."

He'd said he wanted to talk about Scott... Something Scott wouldn't believe? But, why did he care. And he was so focused on it, and his shields just weren't that good. Even as she was just contemplating seeking out the information and lowering her own shields he was practically bombarding her with the information and Jean's eyes widened. "No," she breathed out, although whether it was exclamation or denial would be hard to say. "No, he's really not going to believe this." She practically stumbled back towards the chair her patients had been sitting on and then, in a crowning moment, completely missed the seat as she sat down, backside meeting floor with a resounding thud.

Corsair looked taken aback for an instant, but then immediately moved towards her. "Hell," he said, reaching out a hand to help her up. "I didn't mean to-" But there were running footsteps coming down the corridor even as he began to help her up, and a very angry-looking Scott in the doorway.

He paused for all of a half-second - just long enough to register wife on the floor, pirate trying to grab her - and then hurled himself at Corsair.

Jean was still reeling from what she'd seen and her mind was very clearly not up to speed because when she saw Scott launch himself at the older man she said the first thing that popped into her mind. "No, Scott, don't! He's your father!"

Scott had already landed a solid punch to Corsair's jaw. The older man reeled back against the shelves behind him, the impact knocking things off and to the floor. Meanwhile, Jean's words caught up with Scott's brain, and he promptly tripped over his own feet.

Predictably, it was at that moment the scene ceased to be private.

"Oi, Phoenix, any guesses as to where the--" Marius stopped dead in the doorway, the trainee's gaze going from Jean on the floor, then to Scott, also on the floor, and finally the older man slumped in a pile of loose tools and spare fittings.

"Er . . . I'll come back later."

Mentally berating herself for her complete and utter lack of composure, Jean levered herself back to her feet and then, having ascertained where it actually was this time, promptly dropped on to the chair. "What did you need?" she asked Marius, momentarily unwilling to tackle the whole question of Corsair. (Her father-in-law, some perverse corner of her brain pointed out.)

Scott pushed himself back to his feet; Corsair was a bit slower to get up, using the shelves behind him to pull himself upright. His eyes were locked on Scott, who was flushed and a bit wild-eyed, and definitely not looking at him.

"Scott-"

But Scott was shaking his head doggedly. "No. I had surprise relatives already. It's not my turn."

Marius, who had honestly been trying to recall what absent object had lead to this intrusion, heard this and promptly gave up all hope of regaining the original line of thought.

"What, another one? Were strategically pruned branches of the family tree in vogue for a generation?" He looked from Corsair to Scott, eyebrows quirked, then turned his gaze back to Corsair. His tone ratcheted into something just a hair shy of accusatory. "Here, are you evil?"

Jean buried her face in her hands in an effort to stave off the hysteria, took a few deep breaths and then looked up. "Right. Valid question, but... now is possibly not the time. We'll be in Madripoor soon enough. Then... we can figure this out."

"I for one should like to get the presence or far more unlikely lack of evil determined at the soonest possible juncture," Marius persisted, showcasing a superhuman inability to take a hint.

"Am I evil." Corsair made a noise that might have been a laugh if there'd been any force - or humor - behind it. "Well. I suppose it depends on who you ask." Despite the fact that he was answering Marius, his eyes were locked on Scott with a desperate intensity.

His son gave him an absolutely unreadable look, then promptly pushed past Marius with rather more force than was entirely polite and was out the door without another word. "Clumsy, if not evil," Corsair said quietly, and sank into a chair himself, rubbing at his jaw. "I could definitely have handled that better."

Marius scratched his head as he watched his CO retreat. "Strange, my thought was he could have taken it better. Given the frequency of occurrence for our lot Hallmark would benefit from doing up a card." With a shrug, he turned to Corsair and gave the man a look of scrutiny. "Right, the determination of evil may be postponed, but know I've my eye on you. No covert acts of supervillainy shall be tolerated."

Jean cleared her throat to get Marius' attention and then, when he looked over, arched an eyebrow. "Less with the talking, please. You had business somewhere else, didn't you?"

"Undoubtably so," the trainee conceded, and obediently made his exit. Although whenever he managed to remember what it had originally been he would have to alot time to, in turns, private boggling that he lived in an environment where this kind of development was to be expected and bouts of incredulous laughter that Scott was related to a pirate. Truly, thought the illegitimate offspring of an oil heiress and a prominent Australian media mogul as he carefully closed the door behind him, this entire lot is nothing short of inexplicable.

Jean waited until Marius was gone and the door firmly closed behind him, then turned back to Corsair. "So. Now you get to tell me the story."