xp_logs | Scott and Charles, backdated to September 16th

Backdated to September 16th. Scott goes to see Charles to discuss lightening his load, and gets a much-needed pep talk.

And this was the part he really hadn't been looking forward to, Scott thought heavily, stopping in front of the door to Charles' office. For a whole host of reasons, most of which Charles was probably fully aware of already because he was standing out here in the hall mentally reviewing each and every single one of them.

"All right. Enough of that," he muttered to himself, and raised a hand to knock on the door.

It might have surprised Scott to learn that Charles had his own reasons for not looking forward to this talk, but none of them were audible in his voice as he wheeled out from behind his desk. "Come in, Scott."

Scott swallowed, and came in, closing the door quietly behind him. He stood just inside the room for a moment, his eyes on Charles, briefly at a loss for words. He had just enough pride left not to want to stammer like he was eighteen years old and being called on the carpet, so he gave it a moment longer, until he did find something at least moderately coherent to say. "I'm... hoping the phrase 'better late than never' applies here?" he asked, trying somewhat vainly to smile.

Charles chuckled softly. "As long as you're here, it's never too late. Would you like some tea?"

Scott couldn't help but relax a bit at the offer, familiar and somehow comforting. "That'd be good, thanks," he said, coming over and sitting down. "I'm not... taking you away from anything, am I?" he asked after a moment, more hesitantly.

Charles raised an eyebrow as he poured two cups of tea. "Nothing that can't wait. How are you, today?"

"Better," Scott said a bit vaguely. "I... let things get out of hand yesterday. In a lot of ways. I think I see why, though. So I can avoid it happening again."

"I'm glad to hear it." Charles stared into his teacup for a moment. "Scott, I--" He sighed. "I asked you here so that I could apologize. I . . . have always relied on you. I think, though, that lately I have begun to take for granted that I could always do so and that . . . after all that's happened, Stryker, and--Jean--" He lowered his gaze to the tea again for a moment. "And all that has come after, with the school expanding, and . . . all the events of the last year . . . I owed it to you to remember that everyone has their breaking point, and in that I failed you." He smiled, wry and sad. "But I think I see why, and I hope I can avoid it happening again."

Scott had to set the teacup Charles had just given him down, before he dropped it. His hands were shaking that badly, suddenly. "If I had... handled things better, I wouldn't have gotten anywhere near that point," he said, his voice a hoarse whisper. "It's not... about what you expected of me, Charles. It was me, not... making the right choices, not asking for help."

"No one can make the right choice every time, Scott. And you are not the only one who could have handled things better." Charles took a calming sip of tea. "Now, as I should have said long before today: is there anything I can do to help you?"

Scott made himself reach out and pick the teacup back up, taking to sip to buy himself a moment to think. The conversation wasn't going precisely as he'd expected. Or at all, really. "I'm not sure," he finally said, the words still coming out hoarse, if a little stronger. "Spent all that time last night trying to get it all done on paper, everything that needed doing, but it wound up being sort of a depressing exercise, like I said." He took a deep breath, another sip of tea. "I think it's pretty obvious," he went on more unsteadily, "that I need to take a step back somehow and catch my breath, or I'm not going to be any good to anyone. But what gets neglected, if I do that? Classes? The team?" His hands were a little shaky again. "And then there's the personal stuff, and I don't even know where to start with that."

"One step at a time, Scott." Charles smiled. "I seem to remember having said that before. Quite possibly several times." He took another sip of his tea. "One of the benefits to the school's expansion is that now we have a comfortable level of redundancy in the teaching staff. There are people capable of covering your classes, if you decide you'd like to take some time off from them--your students might well complain, but I doubt it would be very loudly; they too would prefer that you take care of yourself. And if you choose to take a hiatus from your duties with the team . . . that can also be arranged, I should think. You're far too good a leader not to have groomed your subordinates well enough to step in for you when needed, and I suspect Ororo or Alison could handle things well enough while you regroup. Even Nathan has experience with leadership, however it was gained, if he's ready to return to active duty. We have something of an embarrassment of riches in the capable personnel department, actually." Tapping the rim of his cup thoughtfully, he added "Not that any of them, in my opinion, could _replace_ you. But then, if you would take care of yourself as diligently as you take care of everyone else, none of them should have to." Charles sighed. "I only wish I could dispense such pat advice regarding, as you put it, the personal stuff."

Scott hesitated, then took another sip of tea. Why hadn't he talked to Ororo? he thought a bit bemusedly. When all of the team-related stuff had gotten so... heavy, why not her, of all people, who'd been there from the beginning, through all of it... it would have only made sense. She, and Charles, should have been his first of several stops.

But then, his common sense had been in short supply lately, hadn't it? "I don't think I've really been thinking," he said, remembering what he'd said to Alison, about not being able to see the forest for the trees. "It just... got to be so much." He stopped right there, tried to think logically about what Charles had said. "I hadn't thought of it that way, either," he said, a bit embarassed. "How much support was out there, if I needed it..."

"I didn't think you had," Charles said dryly. "It would seem, then, that the next question is: do you want a vacation? And if so, from what?"

"To be honest," Scott said, "I don't think I could just... take a vacation." A few days away with Alex to visit colleges, since he had promised, but the idea of dropping everything just... didn't sit well with him. Okay, so that was an understatement. "There are probably things I am doing around here that other people could do just as well." He laughed a bit weakly. "I wouldn't mind at the very least some help with the driver's ed class. Good God, that's nervewracking at times..."

Charles laughed. "I can well imagine. It could be worse, however--at least you aren't trying to teach anyone to fly the Blackbird at the moment." Tapping his chin thoughtfully, he added "I'll save forcing you into a trunk bound for Aruba for another time, then, I think, and we can work instead on lightening your load to something more manageable."

"It would be good to have some more... breathing room, just on a day to day basis," Scott said, unable to help a sigh. "It's just that there's so much to do, Charles, too much... and then other things get neglected." His expression tightened unhappily. "I seem to have forgotten what I knew about how to prioritize," he said, striving to keep the wry tone and not quite managing it.

Charles repressed a sigh of his own--he could usually get a chuckle, or at very least a surprised pause, when he made a joke, and Scott's utter lack of reaction was only too telling. "It's been . . . a very difficult year. I don't blame you for wanting to find some space--if anything, I'm amazed you've held together this long."

"I just didn't want--" Scott stopped, swallowing, and remembered what Alison had said to him. "I didn't want to let you down," he said, the words coming harder than he'd expected, and that was saying a lot. "So much of what we do is so important. It was hard to let go of any of it, even when it went wrong... I think I lost track of myself along the way somewhere."

Charles closed his eyes, suddenly looking very much his age. When he opened them again, however, his gaze was steady. "Listen to me, Scott," he said quietly. "You will never let me down. Ever. Whatever you do, or do not do; wherever you go." He smiled slightly. "Even if you were to pack up tomorrow, take Elisabeth with you and spend the rest of your life flying charters in Alaska, I would still . . . I could not be more proud of you, Scott, if you were my own son. For all that you have done already--simply for the man that you are--and there is nothing that can change that."

Scott stared at him for a long, mute moment, unable to organize his thoughts, let alone open his mouth and have anything remotely coherent come out. Charles gazed at him steadily, and it finally sank in that he meant it, meant every word of what he'd just said. And if that was the case...

Scott took as deep a breath as he could manage, past the tightness in his chest. "I don't... I don't know what to say," he said finally, his voice cracking. He smiled suddenly, a genuine if strained smile. "Except... I don't think Betsy would like Alaska. Entirely too much snow for her tastes..." Okay, now he was just babbling, and needed to stop. He closed his eyes for a moment, taking another, slightly less shaky breath. The tightness in his chest was fading, and he wrapped both hands around his teacup. "It means... so much to hear that," he said, almost inaudibly.

"Then I will have to say it more often," Charles said simply. He smiled as well. "And while I would still be proud of you in Alaska, I much prefer you here. For any number of reasons."