Mnemovore: Scott and Johnny

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Scott and Johnny cope with waiting.


As much as Johnny wanted to accept the excuse he had been offered the previous day, he didn't. Nobody who knew either of the pair would. Even if they had found their way to another streak of immaturity that only they could bring out in each other and were indulging in some unexpected detour, they wouldn't be neglecting contact like this and leaving everybody to worry. It just didn't feel right. He exhaled slowly, slumping back into the body of the tree that had been his perch since early afternoon, and looked at the phone in his hand. Still charged, still boasting five bars, and still no messages.

"Johnny," called a familiar voice. Approaching the tree from below was Scott, leaning rather heavily on his cane and looking to be in a certain degree of discomfort as he limped towards the boy's perch. "Hey, can you come down for a minute? I need to talk to you." Scott looked around for someplace to sit, then gave up and picked a nearby patch of grass, wincing as he stretched out his leg.

Johnny jumped at the sudden outward voice interrupting his thoughts, though his impeccable balance eliminated near all possibility of him falling from his narrow seat. He looked down. Seeing Scott with his cane and the visible discomfort resonating from his features made the boy frown and he forced a quick descent despite his honest reluctance. The man did not look like he'd brought any good news with him. He stilled upon the lowest branch a moment before taking the final leap to the ground and approaching the older mutant slowly. His pulse had hastened, but it wasn't because of the trip down. "...Are you okay, Mr. Summers?" It was all he could convince his lips to voice.

Scott's smile was faint, a little pained. "Possibly too ambitious with the leg, but yeah, I'm fine. Sit down, okay? We need to talk about what's going on."

Johnny tried to smile back, but it wasn't convincing, and moved to sit by Scott in the grass. He folded his legs and propped his elbows against his knees, saying after a time with the feigned expression gone and resentment not meant for his current company lingering plainly on the edge of his voice, "...You mean the 'spur-of-the-moment rock climbing'?" This brief sharpness went as quickly as it came and his brows sunk in a little, "Have you guys heard anything?"

"Angelo wasn't trying to pull the wool over your eyes," Scott said gently. "We really didn't know anything at that point. Enough bad shit happens around here that sometimes, the inclination is to try and not jump to conclusions." He grimaced, though, as he rubbed at his knee, and looked away. "But we think something's happened," he said, then sighed. "No. We're fairly sure something's happened. We just don't know what."

"It's not jumping to conclusions," Johnny protested quietly, with a fading will to do so, "Mr. Beaubier wouldn't do that and I know that as well as anybody." He slipped into silence, waiting and watching as Scott's eyes turned and his fingers settled against his still-healing knee. There was a familiarity in this apprehension, even before the man continued, that made him feel almost sick. "...So what now? Do we go look for them?"

"Charles is searching, telepathically. He'll find them," Scott said, and there was real conviction in his voice. "He finds everyone when they're lost. The problem is sometimes, it takes some time. Some friends of ours are looking using more conventional means, too."

There was some comfort in that, but not enough to prevent the obvious question, "What about us? Can't we do anything?"

"I know it's hard," Scott said, and knew it was as good as a 'no'. "Trust me. I do too much waiting in these situations, even when I'm not on only one good leg."

Johnny sighed slowly, seeming to receive the message loud and clear and lowering his eyes to the grass. After a short pause, he asked softly, "He'll find them, right?" There was no way the older man could answer him with complete certainty and he knew as much even as he spoke. But maybe this sort of dishonesty, this unjustified reassurance, could be condoned. Maybe it was the only thing that could make waiting tolerable.

"I have faith in him," Scott said, after a moment. "One time, he found me."