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xp_logs2005-03-30 03:35 pm
x-beast.livejournal.com) wrote in xp_logs2005-03-30 03:35 pm
Entry tags:
Hank, Scott, Wednesday afternoon
Hank catches Scott roaming around outside, and has some stern words on the subject of abusing his knee further. They talk about Jean, and then about Jubilee - and while Hank is optimistic about her desire to join the X-Men, Scott is less so.
The mountain lion had been interesting. And purple, so Hank had figured he
didn't need to worry about it.
Instead, he'd decided to take advantage of a class-free afternoon to go
outside and read a little. No work, no study, for a while... just him, his
cane, his coffee, and his ancient but lovingly preserved copy of The
Chronicles of Captain Blood. Gentleman pirates and swashbuckling went so
well with a nice spring day...
Scott was already outside. It was such a nice day, for one. And for
two, outside was one of the few places he could try walking without
his crutches where he wouldn't be immediately a) caught and b) scolded
loudly.
It wasn't going so well. The knee was definitely not appreciating
taking his weight, and Scott bit his lip hard, forcing himself to take
another step. One at a time. Mind over matter. The pain was a bit...
excessive, and he could already feel sweat standing out on his
forehead.
It was a few minutes before the quiet mutter and drag of the crutches drew
Hank reluctantly from the world of Captain Blood... when he did look up,
though, and saw Scott chewing on his lip as he dragged himself around, he
frowned. "Scott," he said reproachfully, getting up and limping over,
leaning on his cane. "Remember what I keep telling you about pushing it to
the point of pain? Don't." He tucked an arm around Scott's shoulders, taking
most of his weight. "Bad little brother. No cookie."
"I can't... be limping around on crutches for the next two weeks!" Or
longer. That was an infuriating thought. "Too much to do, Hank," he
protested, trying not to acknowledge how much of a relief it was to
take his weight back off the leg.
"And the more strain you put on it, the longer it will take to heal," Hank
said firmly, supporting Scott over to the bench where he'd been reading and
sitting him down gently. "You're only going to slow this down if you rush
it, Scott, not speed it up. I know it's frustrating, but you have to be
patient."
Scott slumped on the bench, running an unsteady hand through his hair
as he set his crutches aside. "I cannot afford to be limping around
like the sort-of walking wounded," he said crossly. "Damn it... one
sloppy moment and suddenly I'm next to useless for weeks."
"Which could become months if you keep pushing this," Hank said a little
grimly. "Scott, if you keep pushing, you will not only make this worse, but
you might wind up doing permanent damage. Don't make me strap you
down next to Nathan to keep you from doing yourself harm, okay?" One slip,
one trip, could result in permanent, crippling damage right now...
especially if Scott kept dragging himself around unassisted and unescorted!
Damn it. Why did people have to make sense at him about things like
this? Scott grumbled and slouched a little lower, rubbing at his
temples. "Stupid," he muttered irritably. "Why couldn't I have broken
a few ribs or something else that I could have ignored..."
"Because clearly Fate decided you need to rest before you start throwing up
blood," Hank said, smiling ruefully. "Fate obviously doesn't know you very
well." He patted Scott's shoulder gently. "If you stay off it, and take care
of it, it won't keep you off your feet for that long. If you keep pushing,
it's going to be a lot longer. Maybe even permanent. Is getting on your feet
a little sooner worth the risk?"
"Possibly," Scott muttered, but relented at Hank's stern look. "And you
know, I really am in no danger of an ulcer, Hank." Anymore. He thought. "If
I was going to kill myself with stress, I would have done it months ago,
right?"
"You could be saving it for a special occasion," Hank pointed out, and
smiled a little. "But you're right. So... apart from the knee, how are you
doing?"
"Fine. Frustrated by the knee." Scott paused for a moment, his gaze shifting
out to the grounds. "Jean and I have been talking. It's been... awkward. And
I haven't told her about Betsy yet."
Hank nodded. "If I were you," he said softly, "I'd do so soon. There are
references... in the journals, and other places. She'll find out. I think
she'd rather hear it from you."
"I know I've got to tell her soon." Scott's voice was bleak. "It'll break
her heart. There's no way that she won't see it as a betrayal. Not when
she's still processing that two years have passed." Maybe not even when she
was done processing. "Not to mention the fact that I fucked things up so
monumentally with Betsy, which I suspect will make things worse." He glanced
sideways at Hank with a tight, pained little smile. "Not only did I betray
her, but she'll see I couldn't be trusted to do right by the woman I
betrayed her for. Did I mention how I'm looking forward to the aftermath of
that conversation?"
Hank reached out to take his hand gently. "I know it's going to be hard," he
said gently. "But I don't think it will be as bad as you've built it up to
do. Jean knows that you thought she'd died, and I don't think she's
unreasonable enough to have expected you to spend the rest of your life
alone." For himself, he wished that the conversation wasn't necessary... all
three were dear to him, were his friends, and he wished fiercely that none
of them had to be hurt like this. But it was inevitable, and all he could do
was hope that it wouldn't be too bad.
"What Jean knows and what Jean feels are two different things." Scott
squeezed Hank's hand back briefly and then let go. "In any case, I'll
tell her," he said, his voice flat, overcontrolled. "You're right. I
can't let this go on for too much longer. And if there was one thing I
was never going to be again, it was a coward. Or so I kept telling
myself."
"You aren't a coward. Certainly not because you don't want to cause pain to
someone you care for," Hank said seriously. "It's going to be difficult for
all of you, and I wish I could make it less so.... but you didn't betray
her, and if either of you starts thinking that you did, I will knock your
heads together until you see reason."
"I guess we'll see how it turns out, won't we?" Scott asked with a
very faint smile, looking back out at the grounds. He didn't really
want to overthink this before he did it, so he very deliberately
changed the subject. "So, I gather you've been taking on new
trainees?" It was an overstatement and a deliberate one. And a poke,
if a gentle one, mostly because he wanted to see what Hank had to say
on the subject of Jubilee.
Hank blinked at the change of subject, and then smiled. "Jubilee approached
you?" he guessed, as she was the only person he knew of who wanted to become
a trainee just now. "I'm surprised, I didn't think she'd do so so quickly..
but I'm pleased. This seems important to her."
"She has asked before, you know," Scott said. "Back in the fall. At a
thunderously bad time." His lips twitched, briefly and wryly. "She's
made progress, I won't deny that. But you should see this essay she
wrote, Hank, about why she wanted to train for the team. She said a
number of things that I wanted to hear... and then she started talking
about how she couldn't promise to obey orders that she wasn't certain
about." He shook his head. "I've never asked for unquestioning
obedience. Neither has Ororo, and Alison certainly hasn't shown any
signs of heading that way so far. But Jubilee is not in anywhere near
the position where she should be questioning how she should follow
orders. It's a bad sign, Hank, and a bad start."
Hank nodded slowly. "That much doesn't surprise me," he said slowly.
"Jubilee has great difficulty trusting anyone completely." He thought it
over for a moment. "I think she could be a genuine asset to the team,
someday... after a great deal of training, mind you. And during that
training you, and the other XOs, would have to earn her trust. I don't think
it would be easy... she's spent a long time believing that she can only
depend on herself." He cocked an eyebrow at his adopted brother, smiling a
little. "I think it would be worth it, though, for you and her both. Loyalty
truly earned is a powerful and meaningful thing."
Scott opened his mouth and then closed it again, regarding Hank with a
sort of wary thoughtfulness. "I'm not comfortable with that," he said
finally. "None of us would do anything but our best for her, if she
was to do this, Hank; that goes without saying it. And it's not as if
we haven't had team members who required a lot of help from us to
overcome whatever was standing in the way of them making their proper
contribution to what we do... look at what we went through with Nathan
back in the winter. But it's different." He shook his head slowly. "I
don't want to break anyone of the habit of independent choice, Hank,
but this worries me about her. Enormously. Right off the bat? Before
we've told her yes or no, when she's trying to convince us that she
really belongs with the trainees, she's already coming up with reasons
why she might not obey orders?"
"And would you rather that she hadn't told you that she wasn't sure she could obey every order?" Hank asked, steepling his fingers thoughtfully. "That you found out... the way we have before, once or twice... on the field? I don't know exactly what she said, but Jubilee and I have talked often of late, and I've told her several times that if she has doubts about her ability to cope with or understand something, that she should tell people. That we'll all try to be understanding, but she has to make sure we know there's a problem. Are you sure she wasn't just trying to be honest about her potential misgivings?"
Scott couldn't help an aggravated look. "I'm not regretting her honesty, Hank. I respect her for her honesty. Unfortunately, her being upfront has made me aware of something that's potentially as big a problem, or bigger, than her impulse control issues."
"And by making you aware of it, she's given you the chance to fix it before it becomes a true liability." Hank tapped his fingertips together. "Scott.... this isn't going to be easy. If you do accept her as a trainee, you're going to have to put a lot of work into it. Not just teaching her the basics, but teaching her to trust both you and her powers. I offered to run her through some of the most basic exercises for the same reason that I suggested them to Alex... she has issues with control, that I believe can be dealt with through practicing in a safe place so that she can get comfortable with her abiliies without having to worry about doing harm. As for the trust..." He smiled a little. "Intellectually, I'm sure she knows she can trust you. Emotionally... I think it's very difficult for her to truly trust anyone. Just being the leader won't be enough. You'll have to prove to her that she, personally, can trust you."
"It's not just my choice," Scott said, unable to help the flat tone. "I haven't even taken her essay to Alison and Ororo yet, and she's certainly going to have to talk to the Professor." He stared out at the grounds, not really seeing the trees and muddy grass and last remains of the snow. "I hate my fucking job sometimes," he muttered, a certain amount of venom creeping into his voice. "These choices. The fact that it keeps coming to me, even if it then goes to the other two as well. Saying that we don't recruit them doesn't mean a damned thing in the end, Hank. It's just as inevitable."
Hank sighed, reaching out to loop an arm around Scott's shoulders, giving him a gentle hug. "I wish I could help," he said gently. "But at least, when they want to join, they're where we can watch and help them. I, for one, consider that infinitely preferable to the possibility that, without the option of joining the X-Men, they'd go out on their own and try to act alone. Especially those like Jubilee, possessed of the potentially disastrous combination of a genuine desire to do good, and a serious lack of self-control. Without training, without a team to guide and protect them..."
Scott's jaw clenched. "We're going to get them killed," he said, his voice more ragged than hoarse. "If we make this about teaching them. The two things are not compatible, Hank. The team is not an extension of the school."
"I'm sorry, I was under the impression that we were still calling them 'trainees'," Hank said, raising an eyebrow. "Which implies training, which generally requires teaching. Scott, teaching them to use their powers safely, to protect themselves and others, is something they'll be able to use even if they decide not to join the team full-time... which is something Jubilee, at least, will have to consider. She can't possibly be both a cop and a full-fledged member of the X-Men. Conflicts of interest aside, she wouldn't have time to eat or sleep."
Scott was shaking his head. "You're looking at this in a very different way, Hank," he said. "Notice I'm not saying 'wrong'. But even setting everything else aside, the title of Jubilee's essay was not 'Why I want to learn how to use my powers more effectively'. It was 'Why I want to be an X-Man." He looked sideways at Hank. "She wants to be a hero."
"There are worse things to want to be," Hank pointed out. "I'm not sayind that it's not worrying... it's a basically simplistic statement, as given, and doesn't address a lot of the potential issues and dangers involved. And it does indicate, I think, that she is still very young for her age in some ways... but the basic ambition isn't a bad one." He grinned a little. "When I was young, I wanted to grow up to be the mutant Superman."
The tension and anger had broken, a little, leaving behind more sadness than anything else. "Not me," Scott murmured, looking away again. "Not when I was a kid, or a teenager... I never wanted to be a hero. I joined the team because..." He stopped, shrugged. "Because you don't not use the gifts you've been given, I suppose. Jubilee said in her essay that she didn't see the applicability of her power, since she could blow up a city block or two but that was about it. I'm wondering if I should point out to her just how much less applicable, and flexible, mine are."
"That might be a good idea." Hank nodded. "I'm not one of the leaders... and don't want to be.... but speaking as a doctor, I think training would be good for Jubilee. For now, she wouldn't be permitted to get within binocular-range of actual danger, but it will give her a sense of achievement, a feeling of real belonging, and achievable goals to work towards."
"She is of age," Scott said bleakly. "A small sop to our consciences, I suppose..." He reached for his crutches. "I'll talk to Alison and Ororo, and run this all past the Professor. Can't leave her hanging for too long."
"Scott..." Hank rested a hand on his shoulder. "All she's going to do for now is be our newest trainee. You're not flinging her onto the front lines, here. She'll have time to think about her decision, and learn the control she'll need."
"And six months down the line? Or a year? If she does this, and succeeds?" Scott concentrated on the crutches, setting them properly and hauling himself back to his feet. "Never mind," he said, more wearily than crossly, although his voice was still very tight. "Squeamish moment. Ignore me. I'll take the advice... under advisement."
"Scott..." Hank sighed. "I'm sorry," he said softly. "I wish I could help, and I'm sorry that I don't seem to have. I know that this is important to her, and I think she should have her chance... but I also know how hard this seems to be for you. And I can see why, even if I do think that you're doing that over-claiming of responsibility thing again."
"We all make choices, Hank," Scott said quietly, wavering a little before he got the crutches set properly. "And this place is all about getting the chances you're willing to take, isn't it?" He thought of pointing out to Hank that he was one of a very small group of people who would have gotten anything but the minimum business-like response on the subject... but Hank knew that.
Hank nodded, feeling helpless. "Scott..." he said softly. "Take care?"
Scott raised his chin, giving Hank a slightly tight but reasonably steady smile. "You know me," he said as briskly as he could. "I have these little lapses of..." Okay, there were any number of ways to incriminate himself with his wording, there. "I have these little lapses. I pull it back together in the end, though."
"And I always try to reassure you that everything's going to be okay, even when that's not really helpful." Hank smiled a little. "I still think it will be.... and there's certainly plenty of time for everyone to think things over."
He had never been good at believing that things would work themselves out on their own, without someone riding herd on them to make sure. They so rarely ever had in his life, after all. Scott nodded, then looked furtively at the steps back down to the lawn. "You're going to shake your fist at me if I go back to my walk, aren't you?
"Of course not. Because your walk is going to take you straight back inside, and to make sure it does, I'm going to walk with you." Hank grinned a little. "And then we're going to go have icecream with sliced bananas. I know you're not sixteen anymore, and it's going to take more than icecream and sliced bananas to make you feel better, but I figure they can't hurt. And I like to remind you how important you are to me, sometimes."
The mountain lion had been interesting. And purple, so Hank had figured he
didn't need to worry about it.
Instead, he'd decided to take advantage of a class-free afternoon to go
outside and read a little. No work, no study, for a while... just him, his
cane, his coffee, and his ancient but lovingly preserved copy of The
Chronicles of Captain Blood. Gentleman pirates and swashbuckling went so
well with a nice spring day...
Scott was already outside. It was such a nice day, for one. And for
two, outside was one of the few places he could try walking without
his crutches where he wouldn't be immediately a) caught and b) scolded
loudly.
It wasn't going so well. The knee was definitely not appreciating
taking his weight, and Scott bit his lip hard, forcing himself to take
another step. One at a time. Mind over matter. The pain was a bit...
excessive, and he could already feel sweat standing out on his
forehead.
It was a few minutes before the quiet mutter and drag of the crutches drew
Hank reluctantly from the world of Captain Blood... when he did look up,
though, and saw Scott chewing on his lip as he dragged himself around, he
frowned. "Scott," he said reproachfully, getting up and limping over,
leaning on his cane. "Remember what I keep telling you about pushing it to
the point of pain? Don't." He tucked an arm around Scott's shoulders, taking
most of his weight. "Bad little brother. No cookie."
"I can't... be limping around on crutches for the next two weeks!" Or
longer. That was an infuriating thought. "Too much to do, Hank," he
protested, trying not to acknowledge how much of a relief it was to
take his weight back off the leg.
"And the more strain you put on it, the longer it will take to heal," Hank
said firmly, supporting Scott over to the bench where he'd been reading and
sitting him down gently. "You're only going to slow this down if you rush
it, Scott, not speed it up. I know it's frustrating, but you have to be
patient."
Scott slumped on the bench, running an unsteady hand through his hair
as he set his crutches aside. "I cannot afford to be limping around
like the sort-of walking wounded," he said crossly. "Damn it... one
sloppy moment and suddenly I'm next to useless for weeks."
"Which could become months if you keep pushing this," Hank said a little
grimly. "Scott, if you keep pushing, you will not only make this worse, but
you might wind up doing permanent damage. Don't make me strap you
down next to Nathan to keep you from doing yourself harm, okay?" One slip,
one trip, could result in permanent, crippling damage right now...
especially if Scott kept dragging himself around unassisted and unescorted!
Damn it. Why did people have to make sense at him about things like
this? Scott grumbled and slouched a little lower, rubbing at his
temples. "Stupid," he muttered irritably. "Why couldn't I have broken
a few ribs or something else that I could have ignored..."
"Because clearly Fate decided you need to rest before you start throwing up
blood," Hank said, smiling ruefully. "Fate obviously doesn't know you very
well." He patted Scott's shoulder gently. "If you stay off it, and take care
of it, it won't keep you off your feet for that long. If you keep pushing,
it's going to be a lot longer. Maybe even permanent. Is getting on your feet
a little sooner worth the risk?"
"Possibly," Scott muttered, but relented at Hank's stern look. "And you
know, I really am in no danger of an ulcer, Hank." Anymore. He thought. "If
I was going to kill myself with stress, I would have done it months ago,
right?"
"You could be saving it for a special occasion," Hank pointed out, and
smiled a little. "But you're right. So... apart from the knee, how are you
doing?"
"Fine. Frustrated by the knee." Scott paused for a moment, his gaze shifting
out to the grounds. "Jean and I have been talking. It's been... awkward. And
I haven't told her about Betsy yet."
Hank nodded. "If I were you," he said softly, "I'd do so soon. There are
references... in the journals, and other places. She'll find out. I think
she'd rather hear it from you."
"I know I've got to tell her soon." Scott's voice was bleak. "It'll break
her heart. There's no way that she won't see it as a betrayal. Not when
she's still processing that two years have passed." Maybe not even when she
was done processing. "Not to mention the fact that I fucked things up so
monumentally with Betsy, which I suspect will make things worse." He glanced
sideways at Hank with a tight, pained little smile. "Not only did I betray
her, but she'll see I couldn't be trusted to do right by the woman I
betrayed her for. Did I mention how I'm looking forward to the aftermath of
that conversation?"
Hank reached out to take his hand gently. "I know it's going to be hard," he
said gently. "But I don't think it will be as bad as you've built it up to
do. Jean knows that you thought she'd died, and I don't think she's
unreasonable enough to have expected you to spend the rest of your life
alone." For himself, he wished that the conversation wasn't necessary... all
three were dear to him, were his friends, and he wished fiercely that none
of them had to be hurt like this. But it was inevitable, and all he could do
was hope that it wouldn't be too bad.
"What Jean knows and what Jean feels are two different things." Scott
squeezed Hank's hand back briefly and then let go. "In any case, I'll
tell her," he said, his voice flat, overcontrolled. "You're right. I
can't let this go on for too much longer. And if there was one thing I
was never going to be again, it was a coward. Or so I kept telling
myself."
"You aren't a coward. Certainly not because you don't want to cause pain to
someone you care for," Hank said seriously. "It's going to be difficult for
all of you, and I wish I could make it less so.... but you didn't betray
her, and if either of you starts thinking that you did, I will knock your
heads together until you see reason."
"I guess we'll see how it turns out, won't we?" Scott asked with a
very faint smile, looking back out at the grounds. He didn't really
want to overthink this before he did it, so he very deliberately
changed the subject. "So, I gather you've been taking on new
trainees?" It was an overstatement and a deliberate one. And a poke,
if a gentle one, mostly because he wanted to see what Hank had to say
on the subject of Jubilee.
Hank blinked at the change of subject, and then smiled. "Jubilee approached
you?" he guessed, as she was the only person he knew of who wanted to become
a trainee just now. "I'm surprised, I didn't think she'd do so so quickly..
but I'm pleased. This seems important to her."
"She has asked before, you know," Scott said. "Back in the fall. At a
thunderously bad time." His lips twitched, briefly and wryly. "She's
made progress, I won't deny that. But you should see this essay she
wrote, Hank, about why she wanted to train for the team. She said a
number of things that I wanted to hear... and then she started talking
about how she couldn't promise to obey orders that she wasn't certain
about." He shook his head. "I've never asked for unquestioning
obedience. Neither has Ororo, and Alison certainly hasn't shown any
signs of heading that way so far. But Jubilee is not in anywhere near
the position where she should be questioning how she should follow
orders. It's a bad sign, Hank, and a bad start."
Hank nodded slowly. "That much doesn't surprise me," he said slowly.
"Jubilee has great difficulty trusting anyone completely." He thought it
over for a moment. "I think she could be a genuine asset to the team,
someday... after a great deal of training, mind you. And during that
training you, and the other XOs, would have to earn her trust. I don't think
it would be easy... she's spent a long time believing that she can only
depend on herself." He cocked an eyebrow at his adopted brother, smiling a
little. "I think it would be worth it, though, for you and her both. Loyalty
truly earned is a powerful and meaningful thing."
Scott opened his mouth and then closed it again, regarding Hank with a
sort of wary thoughtfulness. "I'm not comfortable with that," he said
finally. "None of us would do anything but our best for her, if she
was to do this, Hank; that goes without saying it. And it's not as if
we haven't had team members who required a lot of help from us to
overcome whatever was standing in the way of them making their proper
contribution to what we do... look at what we went through with Nathan
back in the winter. But it's different." He shook his head slowly. "I
don't want to break anyone of the habit of independent choice, Hank,
but this worries me about her. Enormously. Right off the bat? Before
we've told her yes or no, when she's trying to convince us that she
really belongs with the trainees, she's already coming up with reasons
why she might not obey orders?"
"And would you rather that she hadn't told you that she wasn't sure she could obey every order?" Hank asked, steepling his fingers thoughtfully. "That you found out... the way we have before, once or twice... on the field? I don't know exactly what she said, but Jubilee and I have talked often of late, and I've told her several times that if she has doubts about her ability to cope with or understand something, that she should tell people. That we'll all try to be understanding, but she has to make sure we know there's a problem. Are you sure she wasn't just trying to be honest about her potential misgivings?"
Scott couldn't help an aggravated look. "I'm not regretting her honesty, Hank. I respect her for her honesty. Unfortunately, her being upfront has made me aware of something that's potentially as big a problem, or bigger, than her impulse control issues."
"And by making you aware of it, she's given you the chance to fix it before it becomes a true liability." Hank tapped his fingertips together. "Scott.... this isn't going to be easy. If you do accept her as a trainee, you're going to have to put a lot of work into it. Not just teaching her the basics, but teaching her to trust both you and her powers. I offered to run her through some of the most basic exercises for the same reason that I suggested them to Alex... she has issues with control, that I believe can be dealt with through practicing in a safe place so that she can get comfortable with her abiliies without having to worry about doing harm. As for the trust..." He smiled a little. "Intellectually, I'm sure she knows she can trust you. Emotionally... I think it's very difficult for her to truly trust anyone. Just being the leader won't be enough. You'll have to prove to her that she, personally, can trust you."
"It's not just my choice," Scott said, unable to help the flat tone. "I haven't even taken her essay to Alison and Ororo yet, and she's certainly going to have to talk to the Professor." He stared out at the grounds, not really seeing the trees and muddy grass and last remains of the snow. "I hate my fucking job sometimes," he muttered, a certain amount of venom creeping into his voice. "These choices. The fact that it keeps coming to me, even if it then goes to the other two as well. Saying that we don't recruit them doesn't mean a damned thing in the end, Hank. It's just as inevitable."
Hank sighed, reaching out to loop an arm around Scott's shoulders, giving him a gentle hug. "I wish I could help," he said gently. "But at least, when they want to join, they're where we can watch and help them. I, for one, consider that infinitely preferable to the possibility that, without the option of joining the X-Men, they'd go out on their own and try to act alone. Especially those like Jubilee, possessed of the potentially disastrous combination of a genuine desire to do good, and a serious lack of self-control. Without training, without a team to guide and protect them..."
Scott's jaw clenched. "We're going to get them killed," he said, his voice more ragged than hoarse. "If we make this about teaching them. The two things are not compatible, Hank. The team is not an extension of the school."
"I'm sorry, I was under the impression that we were still calling them 'trainees'," Hank said, raising an eyebrow. "Which implies training, which generally requires teaching. Scott, teaching them to use their powers safely, to protect themselves and others, is something they'll be able to use even if they decide not to join the team full-time... which is something Jubilee, at least, will have to consider. She can't possibly be both a cop and a full-fledged member of the X-Men. Conflicts of interest aside, she wouldn't have time to eat or sleep."
Scott was shaking his head. "You're looking at this in a very different way, Hank," he said. "Notice I'm not saying 'wrong'. But even setting everything else aside, the title of Jubilee's essay was not 'Why I want to learn how to use my powers more effectively'. It was 'Why I want to be an X-Man." He looked sideways at Hank. "She wants to be a hero."
"There are worse things to want to be," Hank pointed out. "I'm not sayind that it's not worrying... it's a basically simplistic statement, as given, and doesn't address a lot of the potential issues and dangers involved. And it does indicate, I think, that she is still very young for her age in some ways... but the basic ambition isn't a bad one." He grinned a little. "When I was young, I wanted to grow up to be the mutant Superman."
The tension and anger had broken, a little, leaving behind more sadness than anything else. "Not me," Scott murmured, looking away again. "Not when I was a kid, or a teenager... I never wanted to be a hero. I joined the team because..." He stopped, shrugged. "Because you don't not use the gifts you've been given, I suppose. Jubilee said in her essay that she didn't see the applicability of her power, since she could blow up a city block or two but that was about it. I'm wondering if I should point out to her just how much less applicable, and flexible, mine are."
"That might be a good idea." Hank nodded. "I'm not one of the leaders... and don't want to be.... but speaking as a doctor, I think training would be good for Jubilee. For now, she wouldn't be permitted to get within binocular-range of actual danger, but it will give her a sense of achievement, a feeling of real belonging, and achievable goals to work towards."
"She is of age," Scott said bleakly. "A small sop to our consciences, I suppose..." He reached for his crutches. "I'll talk to Alison and Ororo, and run this all past the Professor. Can't leave her hanging for too long."
"Scott..." Hank rested a hand on his shoulder. "All she's going to do for now is be our newest trainee. You're not flinging her onto the front lines, here. She'll have time to think about her decision, and learn the control she'll need."
"And six months down the line? Or a year? If she does this, and succeeds?" Scott concentrated on the crutches, setting them properly and hauling himself back to his feet. "Never mind," he said, more wearily than crossly, although his voice was still very tight. "Squeamish moment. Ignore me. I'll take the advice... under advisement."
"Scott..." Hank sighed. "I'm sorry," he said softly. "I wish I could help, and I'm sorry that I don't seem to have. I know that this is important to her, and I think she should have her chance... but I also know how hard this seems to be for you. And I can see why, even if I do think that you're doing that over-claiming of responsibility thing again."
"We all make choices, Hank," Scott said quietly, wavering a little before he got the crutches set properly. "And this place is all about getting the chances you're willing to take, isn't it?" He thought of pointing out to Hank that he was one of a very small group of people who would have gotten anything but the minimum business-like response on the subject... but Hank knew that.
Hank nodded, feeling helpless. "Scott..." he said softly. "Take care?"
Scott raised his chin, giving Hank a slightly tight but reasonably steady smile. "You know me," he said as briskly as he could. "I have these little lapses of..." Okay, there were any number of ways to incriminate himself with his wording, there. "I have these little lapses. I pull it back together in the end, though."
"And I always try to reassure you that everything's going to be okay, even when that's not really helpful." Hank smiled a little. "I still think it will be.... and there's certainly plenty of time for everyone to think things over."
He had never been good at believing that things would work themselves out on their own, without someone riding herd on them to make sure. They so rarely ever had in his life, after all. Scott nodded, then looked furtively at the steps back down to the lawn. "You're going to shake your fist at me if I go back to my walk, aren't you?
"Of course not. Because your walk is going to take you straight back inside, and to make sure it does, I'm going to walk with you." Hank grinned a little. "And then we're going to go have icecream with sliced bananas. I know you're not sixteen anymore, and it's going to take more than icecream and sliced bananas to make you feel better, but I figure they can't hurt. And I like to remind you how important you are to me, sometimes."
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