Scott and Madelyn, middle of Sunday night

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Scott goes back to Madelyn for some medical advice. She tells him it's all in his head. Really.



Scott sat bolt upright in bed, a cry catching in his throat as the dream retreated, like something dark and malignant, oozing back into the shadows. Shaking, drenched in icy sweat, he swung his legs over the edge of the bed and sat there for a moment, breathing hard and wincing at the throbbing headache. He could hear his own heart beating in his ears, and Scott gritted his teeth, pushing himself upright and pulling on something a little more appropriate for wandering around in the halls. Enough, he thought, rattled. This was quite enough of that. He headed through the suite and out the door, headed right for the medlab.

Madelyn yawned and pulled a face at the pile of medical files on her desk. Damn accident-prone school - she was compiling data from the medical records of the last three months, and it was taking far longer than she intended. Coffee would make things better - she got up and padded towards the kitchenette, intent on raiding Moira's stash.

Scott came through the door of the medlab just in time to see her crossing towards the kitchenette. He stopped, blinking at her. "Maddie," he finally said with a sigh, his voice hoarse. "Help?"

Madelyn started, but covered well. "What is it?" she asked, coming forward briskly, all tiredness forgotten. "Did something happen?"

He laughed a bit wildly, shaking his head - and then wincing again, wishing he hadn't. "Nothing new," he muttered fitfully, rubbing at his temples. "Headaches, and more damned nightmares... I'm still taking the pills you gave me for the former, but I stopped with the sleep aid because I couldn't wake up from the damned dreams..."

"How often are the headaches coming?" she asked, already running possible prognoses through her head. The blood samples had come clean for radioactivity, so it wasn't that... She took his arm and steered him towards the exam room, flicking on the light as they entered.

"Every day, pretty much," he said tiredly, flinching at the light. "Not always when I first get up, but usually by mid-morning."

She noticed the flinch and dimmed the lights somewhat. "Up on the table," she instructed, wheeling an instrument table over. "Any other symptoms besides headaches and nightmares? Trouble eating?"

"Lack of appetite," Scott said tiredly, getting up on the table. "My stomach's more settled than it was, at least."

"Small mercies, but still..." His pulse was more rapid than normal, to be expected in the anxious state he'd been in when he'd shown up. "Your bloodwork from last time was fine... How're the stress levels? You said you'd try and share some of your load, and I saw the request for Drvier's Ed help."

"I've been trying," Scott muttered. "Driver's ed, some of the training responsibilities..." Damn it, his head hurt. "Hell," he said with a slightly wild laugh, "I've even gone out and been social both days this weekend. What a concept."

"Hey, trying to reduce your stress symptoms here, not exacerbate them. Don't make me start thinking about the happy pink pills..." Madelyn frowned. "Have you spoken to Charles about this? You're well on the way to giving yourself an ulcer, Scott, and so far everything you've tried has been band-aid treatment at best Maybe try and fix the problem at its source?"

"I talked to Charles," Scott said wearily. "I don't feel like I'm running around in little panicked circles anymore. Or drowning. I'm just so damned tired, Madelyn, and the dreams won't go away."

"My point exactly - the stress is still there, just what's been done makes it more manageable." Madelyn rested her hand on Scott's shoulder, gave it a squeeze. "And maybe I'm missing something, something that Charles might be able to pick up."

Go running back to Charles. After he'd said he could handle it. Scott's shoulders slumped, and he looked away from Madelyn. "Probably a good idea," he said a bit unevenly.

"Well, it's either that or I start prescribing Prozac or something for you," she pointed out with a slight smile, trying to lighten the mood at least a little. "Seriously, Scott, I wouldn't suggest it if I didn't think it was necessary. I can relieve the physical symptoms, but that's not going to do shit unless the cause of those symptoms is addressed."

"Point taken." Scott tried to smile back, didn't quite manage to do so convincingly. "I, uh, probably shouldn't have come running down here, Maddie. Sorry."

Madelyn repressed the urge to smack him, but didn't quite manage to squelch the eye roll. "Because heaven forbid someone in this place actually come for medical attention when they're feeling unwell," she replied, voice dripping sarcasm. "Scott, you've had recurring headaches and trouble sleeping for how long? You know that little warning on the pill bottle, 'see doctor if symptoms persist'? There for a reason."

"Yeah, but if it's all in my head..." Scott countered as wryly as he could, trying to find that same place he'd located dealing with LeBeau earlier today, that level where everything was just either vaguely amusing or vaguely irritating.

"Only because we've established that it is, and that took coming down here and talking to me. Not to mention my shiny pointy friends here." Madelyn nodded at the instrument trolley. "If you hadn't come down here, would you even be considering talking to Charles?"

Scott opened his mouth, then closed it again, trying to make sense of that. He was probably more sleep-deprived than he'd thought. "Probably not," he said with a sigh, after a moment. "Was sort of hoping it was something medical. You know, so you could wave your magic wand... you do have a magic wand, right?"

"Not since Iceland," she said, with a small, sad smile. "So we have to do things the long and slow way. Unless you're willing to see what our resident witch would prescribe?"

At the mention of Iceland, Scott looked up at her for a moment, then, knowing this was uncharacteristic and jaws would be dropping all over the mansion, reached out and took her hand, squeezing it. Just for a moment; didn't want to be accused of losing the Captain Fuckwad charm, after all. "Well," he said with a faint smile of his own, "that hangover cure of hers worked like a charm. I was all coherent and everything..."

"You? Coherent? Unimaginable," Madelyn teased, but there was a warmth to her expression that hadn't been there before. "But before we go for the eye of newt and toad so greeny, how about letting me give you something for the headache tonight, and then talk to Charles first thing in the morning? If only so we don't have Amanda chasing Kitty's new pet for dragon tears or whatever."

"Now you're making sense at me," Scott said wryly. The last traces of panic leftover from the dream were fading, and he was beginning to feel more than a little abashed at the mad-dash-to-medlab. "Something for the headache would be good. If my head would stop pounding, I could probably at least try and sleep again..."

"As good as done. Well, as soon as I load up the hypodermic, any way." She grinned at his slight sigh at the mention of needles.

"This is to encourage me to do the whole 'dealing with the source of stress' thing, isn't it?" Scott asked, managing a deadpan look.

"Me use the sharp pointy things to make people do what I want? Whatever gave you that idea?" Madelyn asked with an innocent face.

"You're an evil woman," Scott proclaimed darkly. "You and Moira. And Hank is your furry, blue minion."

"Not our evil furry blue overlord? He'll be so disappointed."