Scott and Hank (and a new addition), Saturday night

[x-cyclops.livejournal.com]

Hank knocks on Scott's door to discuss some changes in his training schedule and winds up meeting what - or rather, who - Scott brought home from the mall. The conversation turns very serious as Scott lets Hank in on a weekend trip he's been pondering, and the two of them have a good, long talk about some very sensitive subjects.


Hank tapped on the door of Scott's suite. "Scott?" he called. "I know you're in there, I can hear rustling. Are you decent?" Not that there was any portion of pretty much any X-Man that he hadn't gotten a good look at, between frequent injuries and rather less frequent physicals, but one must observe the niceties.

"Come in, Hank," Scott called back from where he was adjusting the light above the aquarium. There was a rustle from the carton sitting on the table, and he smiled. "Almost done," he said.

Hank ambled in. "I have been wanting to discuss a couple of amendments to my training schedule, and..." He paused. "And you have an aquarium now. This is new." He grinned. "If you're planning to raise hothouse-students in it, you might want to make it a little bigger."

Scott laughed. "Hardly," he said, reaching in to rearrange the rocks in the corner of the aquarium. Two thirds for swimming, one third for basking; that had been what the book said. "No, this is for someone very specific. What's up with the training schedule?"

"I'm not really on active duty any more," Hank pointed out. "I'd prefer to spend more of my time on medevac and field-surgery than on hitting people. I've been hitting people since you were sixteen, I remember how it's done. Triage, on the other hand, is something I need to practice."

Scott hesitated, giving him an unhappy look before he could quite help himself. "I... well, we can arrange that," he finally said, turning his attention back to the rocks. "I didn't realize..."

"It's quite all right... and what's the problem?" Hank had caught that unhappy look, and immediately felt guilty about it. Scott had seemed so happy when he came in. "If it's a problem, there's no need to adjust it for a while at least..."

"It's not a problem. I suppose I'd assumed you would be on active duty... jumping to conclusions on my part. Not to worry." Scott leaned over to check the filtration equipment behind the aquarium.

"I'll certainly go out with you, when and as required," Hank said seriously. "Try and get out of here without me. But I'll be going primarily as a medic, not as a fighter. Which is why I need to practice the medevac and the field-surgery... it's been a while, and I don't want to lose one of you because I'm out of practice."

Scott nodded almost absently. "There are a few people I might want to pair you with for training, then," he said. "The fliers, obviously... Nathan, too, given how useful telekinesis could be to move wounded around."

"That works for me." Hank smiled. "You know me, always up for new things." He looked at the rocks. "And now, I must admit to being intensely curious... what are you going to put in there? It's too small for you to climb into and sun in..."

Scott laughed at him again, relaxing. "Oh, Maddie's told you about my fondness for Boiler Beach? I came into my office the other day and found her swapping out my lightbulbs, believe it or not..." He finally picked up the carton, undoing the top of it. "But the aquarium is for this little guy," he said, gently removing a tiny turtle with a distinctive striped shell.

"Ohhhh..." Hank leaned over, beaming, and reached out to pat the small shell with one fingertip. "That is just about the cutest thing I've seen all day... what type is he? Does he have a name?"

"He's a mud turtle," Scott said, shaking his head. 'Mud' seemed a bad designation, given how colorful the little turtle's shell really was. "No name, yet. I'm still thinking..."

"He's adorable." Hank beamed as the turtles tiny head weaved around, the beady eyes trying to see everything at once. "And I suspect he'll enjoy the sunlamp as much as you do." He grinned. "You could bring him down to Boiler Beach and hang out together... perhaps give him a tiny turtle bathing suit..."

Scott shook his head and placed the little turtle carefully on the basking rocks. "Don't tell Clarice," he said with a chuckle. "She'll take it to heart and present me with one. Probably sequined. And that would offend your dignity, wouldn't it?" he asked the little turtle as it looked up at him. "You're a very serious little guy."

"I won't... although I wonder if she'd make me one, if I asked." Hank grinned a little evilly. "The turtle might not want to be seen in a sequined bathing suit, but *I* would. Ahem. Not that I make a hobby of traumatizing the students or anything." The turtle was looking seriously at Scott, and Hank smiled. "There, see? He knows his mommy already," he teased.

"Please," Scott scoffed, but ran a finger gently down the turtle's shell before he closed the top of the aquarium. "Don't ask," he said with an amused look as he detoured to the kitchenette to wash his hands. "It was a strange impulse. Of course, then I had to read about how to look after them - I've actually had the aquarium set up for a few days. Sean is amused."

"I'm awfully tempted now to get one myself. He's a charming little creature, and probably lower-maintenance than, say, a dog. Besides, can you imagine the smell if the dog and I both got wet at once?" Hank grinned. "We could be used as a deadly weapon."

Scott chuckled. "I wanted something quiet," he confessed, "and I felt a certain kinship, given that turtles need their sunlamps, too..."

Hank nodded. "The two of you seem well suited," he agreed, smiling down at the little turtle. "He even has the same anxious little expression on his fact that I remember you having when you first arrived."

"That wasn't an anxious look," Scott informed him loftily, although of course it had been. "I was casing the joint."

"It was anxious. It was also very endearing." Scott had been so *cute* as a shy, nervous teenager... although of course Hank had never told him so, since it would have offended his adolescent dignity dreadfully. "And you were trying so hard to look bigger than you were."

Scott watched the little turtle exploring his new home. "And then I fell over my own two feet when Jean walked down the front stairs to say hello," he murmured, a faint smile playing on his lips.

"And it was SO hard not to laugh," Hank grinned. "But I managed it, because you were so embarrassed already and I didn't want to make it any worse."

Scott inclined his head in silent invitation in the direction of the couch and armchairs before he went over and sat down himself. "I've been thinking, Hank," he said. "I think I might take off for the weekend sometime soon."

"Sounds like an excellent notion. Would you like me to feed the little fellow while you're gone?" Hank sat down on the couch, leaning back and putting his feet up on the coffee table. "And are you planning to go anywhere in particular?"

"Yes, actually. Alkali Lake."

Hank... paused. And blinked. "Are you sure that's wise?" he said gently. "It will be... difficult. And painful."

"It was something Phillip said to me while I was in Alaska that made me think of it," Scott said a bit awkwardly, knowing he was avoiding Hank's point. "He said... well, it doesn't matter exactly what he said. But it's been a year and a half, Hank, and I still dream about it. A lot more often than I've ever let on, actually."

Hank nodded. "Would you like me to go with you?" he asked quietly. "I'd... rather not have you go alone. I worry, you know."

Scott smiled. "I'll remember you offered," he said, just as quietly. "I want to talk to Charles, first. See if he has any suggestions." He paused, debating with himself for a moment before he made the decision to go on. "She's still in my mind, Hank. Some piece of her, whether it's real or not... Betsy found out back in October while I was having my little extended nap in the medlab."

"And knowing that earlier would have been nice." Hank gave Scott a mildly reproachful look. "Still, I've been away so much..." He sighed. "Maybe you're right. Maybe going back will help." He looked down at his hands. "I've always wondered if I'd have been able to help, had I been there," he said quietly. "I suppose it's the same for you... wondering if you could have done something different, changed something.."

"I was there, remember?" Scott smiled a bit, humorlessly. "Didn't make any difference for my presence, Hank. So you shouldn't wonder about your absence."

"I know... I meant that even being there isn't enough. You must still wonder if there was something you could have done differently." Hank smiled a little sadly. "She would have understood, though, that's a comfort. She was a doctor too, she knew how important it was." He'd been away when it all happened, working at an orphanage in New Mexico... trying to help, as always, but too far away to help those who mattered most.

"I half-expect to go there and be able to sense her," Scott murmured, and then shook his head, aware that Hank was giving him one of those looks. "You know, I was always fully aware of the fact that people wondered about me and Betsy... or about me and my apparent 'thing' for telepaths."

"And here I always ascribed it to a thing for fiery, statuesque women." Hank gave him a little smile. "You have the same weakness I do for strong, assertive women. And, yes, perhaps telepaths too, but I never really thought that was any of my business."

"I suppose it was because Jean... Betsy, both of them, understood." He hated talked about Betsy in the past tense like that. It hurt. "They both saw right through me, which was a good thing and a bad thing, depending on the circumstances." He sighed, shifting a little. "But it's selfish, in the end, on my part. It's not wanting to expose myself, to be the one who reaches out."

Hank nodded. "And that I understand," he said softly. "I've spent years perfecting my own defenses, in that area. Sooner or later, though, we have to take a chance and risk getting hurt... so my mother tells me, anyway." He smiled ruefully. "Perhaps one day I'll even take her advice."

"I think I'm just going to focus on... well, living, for the foreseeable future," Scott said with a wry little smile. "There's constant enough an atmosphere of romantic turmoil around here without me adding to it."

Hank nodded. "Perhaps focus on building the relationship between you and the turtle, for a while," he suggested, glancing over at the aquarium. "Building trust, encouraging him to feel secure, feeding him and comforting him when he's distressed..." He paused and then he smiled, reaching over to mess up Scott's hair gently. "Which I guess makes you my turtle, kiddo." He'd done a lot of that, when Scott had first showed up... they all had, but Hank had been the oldest and so he got to be more proprietary about it.

Scott smiled tolerantly at the affectionate gesture, but his expression went more serious again. "I'm done hiding in my shell, though, Hank," he said.

"Good," Hank said gently. "Coming out and enjoying the sun-lamp, metaphorically speaking, is somewhat overdue for you. It's time for you to crawl up onto your rocks and stick your head out into the great unknown. And I am taking this metaphor far too far, aren't I?" he added, his lips twitching.

"Just a bit. But you have always like to beat a point to death - I think it's the orator in you." Scott glanced over at the aquarium, seeing the turtle swimming happily. "Horatio," he said suddenly.

"A fine, dignified name," Hank said approvingly. "Suitable to such a dignified little creature."
Scott looked back at Hank speculatively. "I didn't show you what I brought back from Alaska," he said. "Copies of pictures. Alex and I and our parents."

Hank brightened. "I would love to see them," he said seriously. "If you wouldn't mind showing them to me." He'd always wondered about Scott's parents.. his own were such an incredibly important part of his life, he literally couldn't imagine having grown up without them.

"I feel like I want to show them to as many people as possible," Scott said quizzically, getting up. "Which is odd. Almost like I'm trying to make sure they're real."

"It isn't odd at all," Hank said softly, feeling his throat get a little tight. "They've been gone for so long, it must be easy to wonder if they were ever really there."

"Photographic evidence," Scott said, getting the album from where he'd left it over on the desk. "Indisputable and all that. Although I must say, I was a pretty sullen-looking little boy."