Log [Alison, Scott] A walk outside...

[x-dazzler.livejournal.com]

Alison and Scott go for a walk after she returns from the afternoon and early evening in town, and they talk about the aftermath now that Mistra has been brought down.

It wasn't quite spring anymore, the weather having been allowed to return to normal since the weekend, with Ororo's absence. Things were creeping back slowly into the sleep required by the end of winter, the hints of life well hidden under the snow and chill. Leaning by the window, Alison looked outside and sighed a bit. She was going to be okay, she knew. It was the course of life, to be sad and mourn but she had too much to life for, to be happy for to let it keep her in the dark places of her mind. Haroun made sure to remind her of that in endless subtle (and not so subtle) ways, just as Miles did - and others as well, unknowingly so for the most part. She felt no need to justify her grief for Mick and Tim, not to others or to herself. It simply was, and would fade with time as it was meant to be.

"So," Scott said from the door, leaning heavily on his crutches. Alison turned to look at him and he smiled faintly. "I'm supposed to be getting some carefully measured exercise, here. Want to go for a walk? I'm sure everyone would appreciate knowing someone was watching me, so I won't wind up flat on my face somewhere out on the grounds... Cain would get far too much of a kick out of that, I'm sure." And he wanted, very badly, to avoid Ororo. At least for the next little while. Safety first and all that.

"He'd make sure to carry you all the way back home even if he teased you mercilessly about it, for sure," Alison agreed, smiling at the thought. Miraculously, the smile didn't fade at the thought of the email she'd read. And she was entirely ready to pretend she hadn't read it, too. "Sure. A walk sounds good." It sounded wonderful, even - she'd been doing a lot of walking this week, be it in the mansion or outside, the times she went jogging alone usually ending up being something more reflective in nature. "Do I have to message the whole mansion to let them know you're safe with me?" she teased him, winking at him as she drew near.

Scott rolled his eyes. "Bunch of mother hens... I'm a prisoner, I tell you." He turned carefully and started to manuever himself down the hall, Alison keeping pace beside him. "I just feel like I need some fresh air," he said. "I need to make sure I don't overdo it, though. There are a number of very scary redheads who would scold me."

"I'd promise to protect you from them, only they scare me too," Alison confided in a stage whisper, putting her hands in her pockets as they headed for the main hall entrance. "Betcha if we're real careful though, we could find a hiding place somewhere outside. I hear there might be the remains of a melted snow fort out there to discover."

"Oooh, forts." He glanced sideways at her as they approached the door. "How's the week been?" he asked quietly. It wasn't that he hadn't seen her, it was just that they hadn't really had a chance to just stop and take stock as of yet.

"Ups and downs," she replied honestly, though the small smile she gave him was firm, her eyes clear. "There's a lot that was achieved last weekend." Biting her lip for a moment, Alison shook her head. Reaching out for her coat was automatic really, and after a moment she decided her running shoes would be fine outside. "We'll keep to the cleared paths for the crutches don't slip all over the place. And how's your week been?"

"Entirely too much time to think, when you have to do as much sitting around as I've been doing," Scott confessed just as forthrightly. "I've been reading a lot of the follow-up reports Madelyn's been passing on. They're been enlightening reading."

"I haven't seen any news on the children much in them, yet." Alison remembered the little boy who had signed a thank you at her only too well. "There been anything new there today? I haven't had the time to look yet. For today." She opened the door for him, looking a bit sheepish. "She's seeing about having me added to the mailing list, but until then I was trying to keep myself from compulsively checking. For once, honestly."

"There was some today. Basically some details on the assessment process they're going through, to make sure that they're actually clear of the conditioning." He sighed unhappily. "Some of them had very negative reactions to the drugs that were used on them. They're being well looked after, though."

She'd been holding her breath while he spoke, and once he was done she let it go slowly, closing the door behind him, walking just a little ahead as they went down the stairs. "We knew that would happen." It was, oddly enough, quieter outside, only the faint sound of snow underfoot echoing now and then, as they walked. "They're clear of the conditioning though." She nodded, sharply. "And the rest?"

He outlined the rest of the day's report to her as he got himself down the stairs, focusing especially on the news about the surviving first-gens, all of whom were cooperating with the taskforce's investigators, all of whom were doing reasonably well under the circumstances. "... there was a bit from one of the psychologists about Nash and Cole," he said almost reluctantly. "She's concerned about how they're coping. Piers apparently made a marked improvement overnight - his healing factor kicking in, they think."

"It's something about the mentality too." She tilted her head to the side as they walked. "It depends on the feral, but a fair number seem to have a more," she paused, searching for the right words, "live in the now mentality. As opposed to the past or future." Alison nodded at that, remaining silent for a while. "Nash and Cole." She wished she'd had the chance to talk to the big man, at least. "It's the not knowing what to do now that there's no Mistra thing? Or something else?"

Scott thought of what Hank had told him, about Valeri, the operative Cole had been so desperate to rescue from the medical wing. "One of the other operatives from Canada, the one Hank didn't manage to get out of their infirmary in time... she and Cole were involved, apparently. And Nash..." He sighed. "Classic survivor's guilt, I gather. The shrink wrote something about him blaming himself for not getting more of his people through it all."

"Of course he is," Alison murmured, something sharp and painful rising up for a moment - but only just, before it settled again. And in the process, a decision seemed to have been made. "I'll go see Nash. Not sure if it can help or not, but I'd like to try." And she liked the big man, a feeling formed from brief encounters in moments that served to define someone's path. "He'd probably have a better idea of what might help Cole, too."

"Talk to Maddie," Scott suggested. "She should be able to set that up pretty easily, I'd think." They went along in silence for a few minutes, Scott struggling a little with the crutches. "Apparently Matsuda's either been in debriefings or at his side the whole time."

"Mm." She couldn't help it, a small smile wining her over at that, and she slid Scott a sideways look, which was met with an equally knowing one in return. "Aaaah." Alison paused as they cleared the patch of snow, and pointed towards the side. "That one's clearer. Shouldn't slip at all there."

"Good. Because as we've established, slipping would be bad." Scott gave his knee an aggravated look as they headed over to the clearer side. "Of all the stupid lapses on my part. Okay, so I was starting to fade a little at that point, but I still should never have let that guy inside my guard like that."

A raised eyebrow greeted that comment, and Alison waited until he'd stopped glaring at his knee to move forward. "What, while you were fending off the bazillion others trying to get to you too?" The silent frenzy of the second generation operatives still haunted her nights - as did other things. She offered him a small, apologetic smile, trying to take any possible sting out of the comment.

Scott grumbled. "Makes me a slow-moving target," he muttered, only half-jokingly. "The knee, I mean. It's awkward." And he was whining. "There weren't a bazillion," he said more quietly. "Only about... well, half a dozen, maybe," he mused, adding them up in his head. "I think you and Nathan saw the majority of them over at the training barracks."

"Yeah," Alison replied softly, looking down at the path while they walked, her hair falling down slowly to shield her face. "It felt like a lot more than the actual numbers, at the time." Beyond the report she was working on, she'd only spoken to Haroun about the details - some of that because of the way she woke at night, and how he was there waiting to soothe her. The rest of it because he'd ask, and the patiently wait for her to sort it out. "From what I read, they're still treating the second gens that got triggered, and trying to assess the damage." And if it was permanent or not. The thought was there, if not said aloud.

"Five days," Scott said after a moment, almost wonderingly. "Hardly seems like it's been that long since Youra already. Where'd the week go?" He shook his head. "Dumb question," he said reflectively. "Your perception of time gets odd at times like this. I remember after Jean--" He stopped, his expression going blank for a moment. "I had a point and now it's run off somewhere," he murmured, his voice low and ironic.

"Time stands still and it still feels both like yesterday or a so very far away." She turned, tucking her hair behind her ear, giving him a wobbly smile though the look in her eyes was still raw. "And you wake up feeling as though you just stepped out of the nightmare, or you sit there and stare ahead and go over everything so many times and wonder what you could have changed so much that it feels like it happened years ago you're so numb."

"Uh-huh." Scott raised an eyebrow at her, smiling very faintly. "You've been to see Charles, right?" he asked. "He brought out the Earl Grey, didn't he? Probably the little sandwiches, too..."

Her shoulders shook a bit at that, helpless laughter breathed out for a moment. "Took two visits before I could stomach the sandwiches." Alison glanced towards the mansion. "Haroun's corrupted me entirely when it comes to tea, too. I think the amount of sugar I put in the Earl Grey horrified Charles beyond words."

It got a laugh out of Scott. Just the mental image... "I told him I'd stop in for a cup later tonight," he said after a moment of more comfortable silence. "I can't stop dreaming about Konstantakis in that bunker. Except sometimes she's Angie." He gave her a brief, embarrassed look. "Here we see how oddly my subconscious works."

"Short term precogs..." And the fear of losing one of the X-Men, which would be fresher now than ever. Even with Jean's return - particularly with the reminder of that. "I showed her. Marie-Ange I mean. She'd come up with nicknames for Nathan and I, a few days before we left on the mission, did you know? Dawnbringer and Holds back the Cold. So I showed her some of the visuals..."

Scott opened his mouth, then closed it again. "Well," he said a bit unsteadily. "I wish... well, never mind what I wish. I would never say it to her. I certainly don't expect miraculous metaphor-interpretation on her part. But if we'd known what that meant..." He sighed, shaking his head. "If wishes were horses..."

"I never imagined." Alison watched her feet as they walked, the sneakers dark against the dirty snow. "How could I have? Or anyone else? And even if there'd been a way..." she trailed off a bit, shaking her head. "Done and over with. It doesn't mean we can't work on making the dream entry and the visions database more cross-correlated, more effective with time, though. But at least now we have something concrete to work with."

"Long-term thing. I know." They went along quietly for a couple of minutes longer before Scott spoke again. "You've been checking in on those still in medlab regularly, I'm assuming," he said.

"Yes." Sam had been out most of the time she'd dropped by. Nathan might as well have been, though she'd stood by even as he slept earlier in the day, lost in her own thoughts. And Anika... they had spoken about Mick. Among other things. Alison had idea of something which might be good for her, although it wasn't for just yet. Not until she was fully healed. "Everyone will be all right, with time to heal." Even those who had been hurt who weren't confined to the medlab.

"We need to do... something, you know," Scott said after a moment. "Those of us who are ambulatory, at least. An evening down at Harry's or some such thing." Just to spend some time together, as a team, in the aftermath of all of this.

"One of the quiet nights," she agreed, simply, the thought of one of the rowdier evenings at Harry's not what would be right for this, somehow. "We can bring the night's special back to those in the medlab after and invade the place for a little while, why not."

Scott nodded. "It's important," he said softly. "Because of the empty chairs, not just the occupied ones."

The sound of snow underfoot slowed and then stopped at that, Alison still looking down. It didn't take much more than a half turn, really - and she was carefully, resting only her forehead on his shoulder lightly, eyes burning with tears. "I miss them. Wish I'd done more while they were here."

Scott put an arm around her, managing to drop his crutch as he did so. She caught it, and he smiled a little, leaning on her as she took a step closer to support him. "I just wish I'd known them better," he murmured. "But we'll remember them. All of us."