Scott and Hank, Monday late afternoon
Jan. 3rd, 2005 04:59 pm![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
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xp_logsHank, on his 'Catching Up With People' rounds, brings Scott a very cute Christmas present. They then proceed to have one of those very deep conversations. Then they go outside to throw snowballs at each other.
Scott supposed he really needed to stop reading Alison's report on what had happened on Muir. This was his fourth time through it, and as comprehensive as it was - more comprehensive that he'd have expected, so soon after the fact - there wasn't actually anything here he could do a damned thing about. Oh, he could talk to Charles about tapping some of his sources, urge Pete to do the same with his... but right now? Nothing to be done. You'd think I'd have gotten used to that by now...
Hank tapped on the half-open door. "Scott?" he said softly, peeking around it... yes, in here fretting, as usual when something like this happened. He supposed that, after all these years, it was probably too late to hope that Scott would ever change. Still, it was possible to distract him, sometimes, and Hank waved the little red-wrapped package at him hopefully. "I brought you your late Christmas present."
Scott looked up, blinking at Hank. "Christmas present?" he asked, mustering a smile. "And are you off the sugar high yet? I just want to know, so that I can dive for the window if necessary..." See? His sense of humor worked even when he wasn't spending all his time under a sunlamp.
"Yes, a Christmas Present. Selected especially for you, with you alone in mind, even." Hank grinned, and held it out to him. "And yes, I've eaten Real Nutritious Food and everything."
Scott's smile grew a little. "Good to know," he said firmly, and took the package. He unwrapped it carefully - he'd never been much for tearing open gifts - and laughed aloud, the smile turning into a grin. "Five Great Planes From History, huh?" he asked, examining the model kit.
"With stickers." Hank grinned. "It will, I thought, give you something constructive to do when you find yourself fretting... and I'm told that too much contact with the glue is cheering in and of itself." There. that was a real grin. Good! Scott was prone to moping... especially when he didn't have something to do, which had been the point of the kit.
"Thanks, Hank," Scott said, putting the model kit carefully down on the desk. "Although I think I'll skip the sniffing of the glue. It disturbed the children badly enough when I was walking around here looking cheerful before Christmas. I'd hate to see their reaction to a high me."
"They don't know what they're missing." Hank grinned impishly. "On second thoughts, if their reaction to Madelyn and I hopped up on mere sugar is anything to go by, yes, you probably would frighten them." He paused, and gave Scott an assessing look. "So... how are things going?" he asked, more seriously. He'd known Scott long enough to be able to tell when things weren't going well.
"If you'd asked me that a few days ago, I would have said fairly well," Scott said with a sigh, his eyes straying back to the computer screen before he made himself look away. "This business on Muir is just... unreal. Nighmarish." He took a deep breath. "But," he said more briskly, "no one wound up with more than bruises, so I suppose it wasn't as bad as it could have been." He grimaced, despite himself. "Still. We were supposed to get a break over the holidays, damn it."
"Break? Us? Perish the thought. We'd all die of the strain if nothing bad happened for longer than a few days." Hank made himself free of a chair... a little too narrow, but not too bad... and looked at Scott thoughtfully. "And that's all that's bothering you?" he asked quietly. "Not wanting to pry, Scotty, but I have known you for a very long time... did things go all right when you met your grandparents?"
"They did. A little too well, I think. Phillip asked me to stay and I was... well, I was a little tempted." All right, a lot tempted. Stopping to think about it, after the conversation where Phillip had first mentioned it, hadn't been such a good idea.
"Ahhh." Hank nodded slowly. "I see..." He cocked an inquiring eyebrow at his friend. "And are you considering it?"
Scott shook his head immediately. "No. It is tempting, but I'm not letting myself consider the option. I am not about to run out on the school, especially after everything that's happened these last several months."
"And why not?" Hank asked mildly. Not that he particularly wanted Scott to leave, but... if he stayed, it should be for the right reasons. Not just because he felt like he couldn't leave. "You're perfectly entitled to your own life and aspirations, should you wish to pursue them."
"This is my life," Scott said, waving a hand in a gesture that was meant to encompass the mansion, not just the office. "I was talking about this with Maddie, actually. About how it's just a case of... managing the lunacy."
"There's not reason why you couldn't at least leave for a while," Hank said seriously. "If you get any more tightly wound, I could get a violin bow and play a tune on you. And I believe there's a rumour going around among the students that if you ever actually relaxed, your arms would fall off. After all, I went off to work for the Brand corporation for a while, try new things..." He paused, looking down at himself. "Of course, winding up looking like a blue mutant gorilla probably isn't the best advertisment for independence."
Scott waggled a finger at him. "I'm much better than I was, I'll have you know. Of course, given that back in October the preferred mode of dealing with me was sticking me in the medlab under sedation, I think I would have to have improved."
"Well, there is that." Hank laughed. "Just... don't ever feel like you *can't* leave, Scott. You can. You'd be missed, but we'd soldier on." He grinned. "Besides, I've always fancied taking a shot at field-leadership. I would declare myself an honorary field-marshal and carry a little baton."
Scott blinked. "Well, there's a mental image that's going to be sticking with me for a while." He shook his head, smiling a little again. "But you know, Hank, when you point out that you left, or when I remember that Jean did other things outside the school as well... I'm not in the same situation as she was and you are. I don't have the ability to make a contribution on that level." He shrugged. "My opportunity to do something worthwhile is here. I suppose I just need to make my peace with the fact that there are things I can't do. Easier said than done, of course."
"Well, now that's just foolish." Hank shook his head reproachfully. "You are a skilled pilot, an excellent field leader, and a gifted tactician. And rather stupidly fearless. I can, for example, think of many worthy aid-organizations who would give their eye-teeth - or someone's, anyway - for a combat-trained pilot with great organizational skill and a desire to help people."
Scott opened his mouth, then closed it again. "Phillip and his pilots occasionally do medical runs," he said, reddening as he realized he'd just taken refuge in a non sequitur and oh, yes, Hank was going to see right through that.
"There, you see?" Hank grinned. "And when you make an answer that bears little relation to that to which it responds, it's a sign that you know I'm right. You could contribute a great deal to the general improvement in the world in places that are not the school, as you should know by now."
Scott shook his head at Hank again. "Stop trying to confuse me," he accused lightly, reaching out to close the file still open on the computer. "In any case, I really am not planning on going anywhere. When it comes right down to it, I wouldn't be able to look at myself in the mirror if I did."
"If that's how you feel, then I suppose I can postpone my ambitions of leadership for a little longer." Hank smiled. "Just... don't ever feel as if you *have* to stay, Scott. You do have options, and we would manage." He reached over to pat the younger man's shoulder gently. "Not that it isn't nice having you around, you understand."
Scott smiled again. "And it's good to have you back, by the way." He mustered an innocent look. "Although now you realize you're going to have to heave to and get your blue ass back into the Danger Room on a regular basis. I very deliberately left a Hank-sized hole in the training rotation." Scott chuckled softly. "Call me an optimist."
"That's not my usual description for someone who drags me into the Danger Room." Hank grinned. "And, curse it, I was so hoping that you wouldn't have room for me, and I'd have to fall back on my Exercise Plan B of juggling students to keep in trim."
"We need to rediscover our proactive selves," Scott said after a moment, his expression more serious again. "I have a few ideas along those lines, although I have yet to consult with Charles about them." His smile came back, if very wry this time. "Maybe if we're out and about doing productive things more often, the kids will get themselves into trouble less often because there won't be as many people around to haul them back out of it."
Hank laughed. "All right, you ARE an optimist," he said, amused. "But yes, certainly, more training is good. If nothing else, to ensure that I am ready for any dangerous missions that require the presence of a doctor. Moira, obviously, won't be able to participate, and as able as Madelyn is, she can't lift two assailants in each hand and beat them on the ground until they make crunchy noises."
Scott laughed. "I have missed you, you know," he said fondly, turning off the computer. "What say we get out of here? I'm finding my office depressing again."
"Sounds good to me." Hank grinned. "I'm told there's snow outside. Snow just right for making snowballs. Would you care to investigate this possibility with me?"
"Considering how much better my aim is, you bet." Scott rose, the smile tugging at his lips. "We should go find some of the little kids, drag them out as well."
"An admirable plan. They can watch me flatten you." Hank grinned toothily. "I may not aim quite so well, but I can throw many more snowballs in the space of a minute than you can." He paused. "And keep in mind what I said earlier," he said more seriously. "You *can* be of use elsewhere, and help people as much or more in need as our own students. So never feel as if this is all you can contribute."
Definitely confusing him. "Mmm," Scott said. "First one out there gets a free shot."
"And this he says to the man who can go straight out the nearest window and down the wall," Hank said sadly to the room in general. "Does the boy never learn?"
Scott supposed he really needed to stop reading Alison's report on what had happened on Muir. This was his fourth time through it, and as comprehensive as it was - more comprehensive that he'd have expected, so soon after the fact - there wasn't actually anything here he could do a damned thing about. Oh, he could talk to Charles about tapping some of his sources, urge Pete to do the same with his... but right now? Nothing to be done. You'd think I'd have gotten used to that by now...
Hank tapped on the half-open door. "Scott?" he said softly, peeking around it... yes, in here fretting, as usual when something like this happened. He supposed that, after all these years, it was probably too late to hope that Scott would ever change. Still, it was possible to distract him, sometimes, and Hank waved the little red-wrapped package at him hopefully. "I brought you your late Christmas present."
Scott looked up, blinking at Hank. "Christmas present?" he asked, mustering a smile. "And are you off the sugar high yet? I just want to know, so that I can dive for the window if necessary..." See? His sense of humor worked even when he wasn't spending all his time under a sunlamp.
"Yes, a Christmas Present. Selected especially for you, with you alone in mind, even." Hank grinned, and held it out to him. "And yes, I've eaten Real Nutritious Food and everything."
Scott's smile grew a little. "Good to know," he said firmly, and took the package. He unwrapped it carefully - he'd never been much for tearing open gifts - and laughed aloud, the smile turning into a grin. "Five Great Planes From History, huh?" he asked, examining the model kit.
"With stickers." Hank grinned. "It will, I thought, give you something constructive to do when you find yourself fretting... and I'm told that too much contact with the glue is cheering in and of itself." There. that was a real grin. Good! Scott was prone to moping... especially when he didn't have something to do, which had been the point of the kit.
"Thanks, Hank," Scott said, putting the model kit carefully down on the desk. "Although I think I'll skip the sniffing of the glue. It disturbed the children badly enough when I was walking around here looking cheerful before Christmas. I'd hate to see their reaction to a high me."
"They don't know what they're missing." Hank grinned impishly. "On second thoughts, if their reaction to Madelyn and I hopped up on mere sugar is anything to go by, yes, you probably would frighten them." He paused, and gave Scott an assessing look. "So... how are things going?" he asked, more seriously. He'd known Scott long enough to be able to tell when things weren't going well.
"If you'd asked me that a few days ago, I would have said fairly well," Scott said with a sigh, his eyes straying back to the computer screen before he made himself look away. "This business on Muir is just... unreal. Nighmarish." He took a deep breath. "But," he said more briskly, "no one wound up with more than bruises, so I suppose it wasn't as bad as it could have been." He grimaced, despite himself. "Still. We were supposed to get a break over the holidays, damn it."
"Break? Us? Perish the thought. We'd all die of the strain if nothing bad happened for longer than a few days." Hank made himself free of a chair... a little too narrow, but not too bad... and looked at Scott thoughtfully. "And that's all that's bothering you?" he asked quietly. "Not wanting to pry, Scotty, but I have known you for a very long time... did things go all right when you met your grandparents?"
"They did. A little too well, I think. Phillip asked me to stay and I was... well, I was a little tempted." All right, a lot tempted. Stopping to think about it, after the conversation where Phillip had first mentioned it, hadn't been such a good idea.
"Ahhh." Hank nodded slowly. "I see..." He cocked an inquiring eyebrow at his friend. "And are you considering it?"
Scott shook his head immediately. "No. It is tempting, but I'm not letting myself consider the option. I am not about to run out on the school, especially after everything that's happened these last several months."
"And why not?" Hank asked mildly. Not that he particularly wanted Scott to leave, but... if he stayed, it should be for the right reasons. Not just because he felt like he couldn't leave. "You're perfectly entitled to your own life and aspirations, should you wish to pursue them."
"This is my life," Scott said, waving a hand in a gesture that was meant to encompass the mansion, not just the office. "I was talking about this with Maddie, actually. About how it's just a case of... managing the lunacy."
"There's not reason why you couldn't at least leave for a while," Hank said seriously. "If you get any more tightly wound, I could get a violin bow and play a tune on you. And I believe there's a rumour going around among the students that if you ever actually relaxed, your arms would fall off. After all, I went off to work for the Brand corporation for a while, try new things..." He paused, looking down at himself. "Of course, winding up looking like a blue mutant gorilla probably isn't the best advertisment for independence."
Scott waggled a finger at him. "I'm much better than I was, I'll have you know. Of course, given that back in October the preferred mode of dealing with me was sticking me in the medlab under sedation, I think I would have to have improved."
"Well, there is that." Hank laughed. "Just... don't ever feel like you *can't* leave, Scott. You can. You'd be missed, but we'd soldier on." He grinned. "Besides, I've always fancied taking a shot at field-leadership. I would declare myself an honorary field-marshal and carry a little baton."
Scott blinked. "Well, there's a mental image that's going to be sticking with me for a while." He shook his head, smiling a little again. "But you know, Hank, when you point out that you left, or when I remember that Jean did other things outside the school as well... I'm not in the same situation as she was and you are. I don't have the ability to make a contribution on that level." He shrugged. "My opportunity to do something worthwhile is here. I suppose I just need to make my peace with the fact that there are things I can't do. Easier said than done, of course."
"Well, now that's just foolish." Hank shook his head reproachfully. "You are a skilled pilot, an excellent field leader, and a gifted tactician. And rather stupidly fearless. I can, for example, think of many worthy aid-organizations who would give their eye-teeth - or someone's, anyway - for a combat-trained pilot with great organizational skill and a desire to help people."
Scott opened his mouth, then closed it again. "Phillip and his pilots occasionally do medical runs," he said, reddening as he realized he'd just taken refuge in a non sequitur and oh, yes, Hank was going to see right through that.
"There, you see?" Hank grinned. "And when you make an answer that bears little relation to that to which it responds, it's a sign that you know I'm right. You could contribute a great deal to the general improvement in the world in places that are not the school, as you should know by now."
Scott shook his head at Hank again. "Stop trying to confuse me," he accused lightly, reaching out to close the file still open on the computer. "In any case, I really am not planning on going anywhere. When it comes right down to it, I wouldn't be able to look at myself in the mirror if I did."
"If that's how you feel, then I suppose I can postpone my ambitions of leadership for a little longer." Hank smiled. "Just... don't ever feel as if you *have* to stay, Scott. You do have options, and we would manage." He reached over to pat the younger man's shoulder gently. "Not that it isn't nice having you around, you understand."
Scott smiled again. "And it's good to have you back, by the way." He mustered an innocent look. "Although now you realize you're going to have to heave to and get your blue ass back into the Danger Room on a regular basis. I very deliberately left a Hank-sized hole in the training rotation." Scott chuckled softly. "Call me an optimist."
"That's not my usual description for someone who drags me into the Danger Room." Hank grinned. "And, curse it, I was so hoping that you wouldn't have room for me, and I'd have to fall back on my Exercise Plan B of juggling students to keep in trim."
"We need to rediscover our proactive selves," Scott said after a moment, his expression more serious again. "I have a few ideas along those lines, although I have yet to consult with Charles about them." His smile came back, if very wry this time. "Maybe if we're out and about doing productive things more often, the kids will get themselves into trouble less often because there won't be as many people around to haul them back out of it."
Hank laughed. "All right, you ARE an optimist," he said, amused. "But yes, certainly, more training is good. If nothing else, to ensure that I am ready for any dangerous missions that require the presence of a doctor. Moira, obviously, won't be able to participate, and as able as Madelyn is, she can't lift two assailants in each hand and beat them on the ground until they make crunchy noises."
Scott laughed. "I have missed you, you know," he said fondly, turning off the computer. "What say we get out of here? I'm finding my office depressing again."
"Sounds good to me." Hank grinned. "I'm told there's snow outside. Snow just right for making snowballs. Would you care to investigate this possibility with me?"
"Considering how much better my aim is, you bet." Scott rose, the smile tugging at his lips. "We should go find some of the little kids, drag them out as well."
"An admirable plan. They can watch me flatten you." Hank grinned toothily. "I may not aim quite so well, but I can throw many more snowballs in the space of a minute than you can." He paused. "And keep in mind what I said earlier," he said more seriously. "You *can* be of use elsewhere, and help people as much or more in need as our own students. So never feel as if this is all you can contribute."
Definitely confusing him. "Mmm," Scott said. "First one out there gets a free shot."
"And this he says to the man who can go straight out the nearest window and down the wall," Hank said sadly to the room in general. "Does the boy never learn?"
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no subject
Date: 2005-01-04 04:36 am (UTC)Deatils, details...
Madelyn is pouting in my head and mourning the loss of the Kevlar vest. And pointing out she's a much better shot than Hank and he'd better watch his blue furry butt next time she's out and about with the tranq gun, or she'll give him a demonstration. ;)
no subject
Date: 2005-01-04 05:34 am (UTC)*still nursing a grudge there*
no subject
Date: 2005-01-04 05:38 am (UTC)Pbbhht!
Date: 2005-01-04 05:39 am (UTC)Well. Ok, a bit less with all the slacking of late, but that'll change! Just you wait!
Re: Pbbhht!
Date: 2005-01-04 05:40 am (UTC)Re: Pbbhht!
Date: 2005-01-04 05:43 am (UTC)*smirks*
Re: Pbbhht!
Date: 2005-01-04 07:23 am (UTC)Re: Pbbhht!
Date: 2005-01-04 08:18 am (UTC)Re: Pbbhht!
Date: 2005-01-04 11:08 am (UTC)Well, okay. There's the whole vaporizing them/makign big holes in them, but that's just details...
Re: Pbbhht!
Date: 2005-01-04 11:21 am (UTC)