xp_logs | Log: [Scott, Haller] Priorities (Reply)

After the card game, Scott finally allows himself to address some personal business.

Scott scanned the common room, taking special note to observe the position of the guards and the other prisoners. He tapped Haller on the shoulder and gestured him towards a corner where they could talk without being overheard. "How did you get here Jim? What happened out there...Is Jean ok?" he asked the other man quietly, worry tinging his voice.

The telepath jerked, then realized he was still standing next to Scott. After the game's conclusion he'd begun to lose focus again. Now he realized with a start that this was the first time he and Scott had actually been alone together since their capture -- and why Scott might want it that way.

"Jean is . . ." Jim squeezed his eyes shut. When he opened them again his voice was a little surer. "When I last saw her, she was all right. Not hurt. We found Molly and Meggan and Garrison and Angelo. I'm not sure what happened, but none of them were with us when Moreau did his selections. She had to have gotten them out."

Scott sagged against the wall slightly, relief breaking through the mask he had schooled his features into ever since he had arrived at the prison. "Thank god, when I saw you in here I got so worried," he nodded apologetically at Haller, "not that I wanted to see you, or anyone in here. It's just, right before the mutates caught me I felt her." he admitted, "For the first time since....the argument. I felt a surge of emotions coming from her but I don't know what triggered them. I guess I just assumed the worst."

Jim frowned, a little worm of anxiety turning in his stomach. He hadn't seen an attack, but he'd been . . . distracted.

"Emotions?" he ventured, not wanting to reignite Scott's concern unnecessarily. "Like pain?"

"Not pain," Scott replied distractedly, "more like love, loss hurt and loneliness." Scott sighed, "It's just..not like Jean to get so distracted in the middle of a fight, or to reopen the link like that." He looked over at Haller, "to be honest it took me by surprise coming in the middle of the fight." The one eyed man looked at the ground, "I...well I let it distract me," he admitted softly.

Jim's stomach had stopped churning. Instead, it dropped.

"I . . . I don't think that was an attack." Jim turned away. His eyes fixed on one of the guards. The man was having what appeared to be an amiable exchange with one of the prisoners, a man who had been here when they arrived. The telepath rubbed at the old scarring on his left hand and said, "I think it was me."

Scott shook his head in confusion, he couldn't have heard that right. He turned to face Haller, shock and anger reflected on his face, "I don't think I heard that right. You did what? he said moving closer to Haller; his voice getting softer, but colder at the same time.

"I didn't . . ." Jim sighed heavily and gave the bridge of his nose a squeeze. "I was about to do something stupid. Jean tried to stop me. There wasn't time to explain so I just . . . I gave her what I felt." He dropped his hand and turned his eyes to a point just below Scott's collarbone. "The Genoshans we met in the prison -- Betsy was leading them."

Scott sucked in a breath and stared at Haller rocking back on his heel. He stared at Haller, unsure how to react to his admission.

Jim snorted. "Yeah," he said with a bitter smile, "that was my reaction. Except the magistrates were shooting at us at the time, so when I did it I almost got shot in the face." He shook his head and looked up at Scott's single eye. "Jean shielded me. And she was right. I even knew it at the time. I just didn't care." He swallowed hard. "I'm sorry. I didn't think you would feel it, too. I guess whatever she felt . . . resonated."

Scott took a deep breath, "You couldn't have known Jim," he told Haller. "Just...I'm not the only one you should be apologizing to. Next time think about it." He paused as something Haller had said registered with him. "You didn't care?" he asked with concern

"They did something to Betsy. I don't know what. Her mind's -- wrong." Jim folded his arms across his chest, his exposed wrists pale against the orange of his slightly too-short sleeves. "I should have thought about the team. I wish I had. But when I felt her mind, I couldn't not try." He paused, then gave Scott a faint smile. "Though I guess . . . I guess if it had to happen, it could have been worse."

Scott briefly rested a hand on Haller's shoulder, "I'm sorry, if it was Jean..." His voice trailed off, "We'll get her back Jim, you know we will. And at least you know what you did was wrong, although I guess I can't blame you. Although I'm not sure how it could have been worse," he gestured at the magistrate guards, "they played us pretty well and now we're trapped in here."

"They didn't get Jean, or any of the people our team went in to get out. There were others missing during the intake process, too. And . . ." Jim turned his head to follow the other man's touch from his shoulder to his face. He thought of sitting in his suite with Jean and Lorna. Scott's hasty exit when he'd discovered his wife there. Jean retreating to the bathroom, refusing to emerge until he had gone. The gut-twisting awkwardness that had filled every pause in the conversation. Jim took a deep breath.

"And . . . I know you two are having problems, I do," he continued, quieter now. "But I showed Jean the person most important to me, and the way she reacted -- whether she meant to or not, whether she even knew she did it -- she reached out to you. Just you." He hesitated before giving an embarrassed shrug. "Just . . . it's something to think about."

Then, without waiting for Scott to reply and unsure of how to respond if he did, Jim slipped from the older man's grasp and went to seek the others.