Scott and Julian, Monday afternoon

[x-cyclops.livejournal.com]

Julian encounters Scott, who's attempting to laugh in the face of his reduced mobility. He takes the opportunity to ask the older man some questions about the team.


He had sworn to Jean that he wouldn't do anything stupid like try the stairs on the crutches, and even if he'd had the urge to break his word initially, the actual act of moving around had cured him of it; his head was aching steadily and his balance was a little off. Okay. More than a little. But he'd felt the need to move around a little. The appointment with the surgeon was this afternoon, and he wanted the illusion of mobility before he had to go and talk about how the well-meaning medical professionals were going to make things worse in the name of making them better.

Halfway to the elevator, however, Scott started to feel unsteady enough that sitting down sounded like a great idea. He found one of the benches in the hallway, easing his bruised body down onto it with a sigh. Closing his eyes, he let his head rest against the wall behind him and willed the little flutter of nausea in the pit of his stomach to go away.

Julian was headed to class when he spotted Scott sitting down on one of the seldom used benches. What didn't immediately register were the crutches leaning against the bench next to him, once he noticed them the gears started turning and it suddenly seemed like his teacher might need some help. Books in hand, he approached the wounded X-man, "Hey Mister Summers, you okay?"

"I'm fine, Julian." Scott's smile was weary, but unforced as he opened his eyes and looked up at the young man. "Just taking a break. Getting around on these things is not easy at the best of times, and especially not when you're black and blue." His shoulder was protesting in particular.

"My friend, um," he paused, the memory of his last experiences with crutches coming back to him. "Well, my old friend Eric had crutches for a while. We got to get out of class to help him get around."

"I lucked out. Telekinetic wives are very handy things. She'd probably be here helping me right now, but, well - I'm stubborn." Scott's smile turned ever so slightly conspiratorial.

"I believe it," Julian quirked a smile and took a seat next to Scott. "How'd you get hurt?"

"Accident in the Danger Room," Scott said. "It was a mechanical failure - it knocked out the safeties on the program we were running. And, well - it was a pretty fast-paced program."

'Safeties? "Oh, well at least you made it through. From what I've heard about some of those exercises, you must be tough as hell...er...heck." Julian waved a hand in appology.

Yes, we feed new X-Men to giant mechanical fire-breathing dragons, Scott thought, amused, but didn't say it aloud. "They can be strenuous," he conceded, instead. "But the Danger Room generally shuts down the program or drops you into a pool of impact-gel if things get out of hand." He smiled again. "Hell to get that stuff out of leather."

"Wouldn't know," Julian looked at the landscape painting across from their bench. "The only thing Nathan and I have done down there is work with some heavier objects. Also I don't wear leather too often, it's not exactly in style right now." For a moment, Keller's mind wandered to imagine what it would be like to be stuck in a more-or-less skin tight, leather uniform for hours on end. So far that was the only downside he could see to being an X-man.

"Well, our leathers are definitely not stylish-looking. It's leather over body armor - not as bulky as it could be, Forge has done a great job creating some lighter material for us. Some of us wear heavier gear than others. Nathan, for example, has a beefed-up jacket to protect his ribs, since he's broken them so often." Scott inclined his head at his leg. "I suspect I'm getting a knee brace built into the next version of mine."

With a empathetic smile on his face, Julian turned his attention back to Scott. "I guess it could be useful then..." A thought popped into his head, "does Nathan also have to wear a helmet then, given how many times he's been concussed?" His lips quirked a smile as he held back a laugh, unsure if Mister Summers would find it as funny of a thought as he did.

Scott repressed an outright laugh. "You, young man," he said, not quite reprovingly, "have been listening to gossip. But no, no helmets, for Nathan or anyone else." He shrugged with his unbruised shoulder. "I wonder about that sometimes. One of these days someone's going to get shot in the head." As soon as the words were out of his mouth he wished he could take them back; that wasn't precisely a concern he should be broaching with one of the students. I blame the concussion.

A nod was all he could return the comment with, for another moment they sat there in silence. "So...say I was thinking about joining the team..." Julian shifted his posture slightly to appear more at ease. "What would I have to do?"

Scott wondered idly whether Nate had been running a pool on how long this moment would be in coming. "Well," he said, "since you're not of age yet, it's a little more complicated. You could begin training, but you'd have to get parental permission to do so. And until you turn eighteen, it would be more... study and powers-training and team-building exercises, as opposed to field work. For you in particular, there would probably be a lot of powers training."

The meaning of that was clear enough: you're not very good at using your powers yet. "Something tells me my parents wouldn't sign off on that- but I do turn eighteen in October." He thought for a moment, "Isn't that the point of the New Mutants program? Train our powers, develop teamwork...sounds pretty similar."

Scott shook his head, then wished he hadn't. The hallway seemed to tilt a little. "Not at all," he said flatly, making himself focus on Julian. "One of the other things you'd need to do before you even started training is a lot of reading - you'd need to study what the X-Men do and have done, so that you understand what it is you're proposing to sign yourself up for. We're not superheroes."

That confused him. Super-secret lair, check. Costumes, check. Mutant powers, check. Everything in the equation balanced out to superhero for him. "Did Doreen say something? Because I just told her about what you guys do, she was the one who started on the whole superhero thing." Julian paused, "What's the difference though?"

"Doreen? No. I know how the whole thing gets phrased for newcomers, though," Scott said. "I suppose the press, if they recognized us as a single entity, would call us vigilantes. We have our government contacts, although here in the US they're less overt than they used to be. We've got friends in other governments and agencies who can and do call us in when they need our specialized services - I suppose from another point of view, we're consultants. I prefer to think of us as a rapid-response team and leave it at that."

"Oh, that makes sense," Julian turned back to the painting, contemplating what Scott had just said. "But you do save people and stuff, right? You make a difference."

"Yeah. On good days. And don't get me wrong - we don't rely entirely on our contacts. We can go into situations ourselves when they seem to warrant it - it's one of the benefits of not being official in any way, shape or form. Also the reason for the stealth jet." He wouldn't descend into lecture-mode and tell Julian about how fine a line they walked, however. "We do make a difference. And we're seen to make a difference, which is important."

"I bet," Julian took out his phone and glanced at the time. "I need to get to class, are you sure you don't need any help getting where you're going?"

"No, I'm fine," Scott said, waving a hand. It was only a little lie. "We can continue this conversation later, if you want. You could always do a little reading before you decide one way or the other." Because he fairly sure he knew which way the discussion was going to go in the end, even if Julian had to wait until he was of age to make it. There were certain natural propensities he recognized.

With a nod and a smile, Julian pushed off the bench and gave Scott a wave. "Thanks Mister Summers, I'll stop by your office when you're feeling better." Keller turned and hurried off towards class, knowing he had a good excuse for being tardy.