Jean and Scott, Backdated to May 2nd - 6th
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ax_mainScott and Jean's adventures on the road. Scott is trapped in his own head, but Jean does an admirable job of coaxing him out of it....and then, in a much more pleasant capacity, back into it again. Having a girlfriend who's a telepath is awesome....for so many reasons.
Multiple cuts, because teh long.
Scott had managed not to swear out loud, much, when he'd put together their tent. He'd camped as a kid with his family, and that had been the last time he'd done this with something as fancy as a real tent. Running away as a kid...that had involved tarps, and rope, and a shoestring budget. It just hadn't been worth what would come if Jack had found a true tent in his possession.
The Professor, however, had had no such qualms, so at least Jean would have decent digs.
Scott realized, of course, that was a matter of opinion. It was a real tent, placed on and under tarp to keep it dry, but it was small, furnished with a single sleeping bag and some spare blankets he'd grabbed once he'd learned Jean was coming. In consideration of that fact, he'd also pulled them into a real campground, albeit one that seemed relatively rundown and mostly empty. He needed the distance from people.
With geographic distance between him and the mansion, he felt like he could breathe again.
"I've got MREs," he offered, which had to be the weirdest dinner-for-your-girlfriend offer he'd ever made. "Or I can try to catch us something."
"MREs are fine," Jean assured him (though it took her a moment to remember what those actually were; right, army food). "I think we can let Thumper sleep easy for tonight. Did you do a lot of this survival stuff before Xavier's?"
He shrugged awkwardly. "When I was a kid, with my dad. And when I ran away a few times. Later." When Essex house had been too much. When Jack had. "You ever go camping?"
"In the back yard a few times, when Sara and I were really little," Jean said. "Never for real, though. Is there anything I can do to help? I mean, do we need firewood or something?"
"Princess tent?" Scott asked, just a hint of tease to his voice. Still, even with the slight increase in levity, he sounded a bit strained. "And, uh, yeah. If you want to look for dry wood, I'll work on grabbing kindling and then get it set up."
"Power Rangers," Jean supplied. "But only because the princess tents weren't supposed to be used outdoors." She offered him a smile and went hunting sticks. One of the benefits to having telekinisis: you could carry a lot more wood than in your own two arms, and you didn't have to get your hands dirty.
"Power Rangers. Girl after my own heart." He began scouting around for brush and dried leaves, managing to amass a good armful before long. He put it on the center of the fire pit, and began arranging the materials for best effect.
Jean called over one shoulder. "Oh yeah? Which series?"
"I'm a purist, Grey. The original." Still crouching, he turned to look at her curiously. "Which was yours?"
"Boy after my own heart," Jean said with a laugh.
His smile was tired, and shadowed, but genuine. "Knew you had some fine tastes." He stood up, tucking his dirty hands in his pockets. "Need any help?"
Jean looked at the five-foot-stack of sticks and dead branches she'd collected while they were talking and grimaced. Such overkill.
"Do you know how to build a log cabin?"
He cocked an eyebrow. "Willing to learn, but I'm not sure either of us is the Little House in the Big Woods type."
"Then no, I'm good." She set the wood not too far from the tent (though far enough that they wouldn't suffer if the stacking job turned out to be less than stable). "If we're not staying more than a couple of days, we'll be leaving wood for whoever show up next."
Scott went over and grabbed a few logs before returning to the fire pit to set them up. That done, he crouched and lit the kindling. Once he finished blowing on it and nursing it to life, he stood. "We will see," he said a touch cryptically.
"No rush. It's been an interesting day." Jean settled beside the fire, watching as the flames crawled timidly over the twigs and shredded bark before catching in earnest.
"I bet you say that to every guy who drags you out of school and into the forest," Scott said dryly. Hearing it, he cocked his head, and added, "Which makes me sound serial killer-y, now that I say it out loud."
"Since I could pitch you across the interstate if you were getting on my nerves?" Jean grinned. "Not really. Context and all that."
He smirked. "Be still my beating heart." He took a seat next to her, staring contemplatively into the flames.
Jean didn't intrude into his thoughts. She knew Scott had a lot on his mind, things he'd share when he was ready. She meant to be there for him when that moment came.
After a long period of silence, he finally asked, "Am I weak?"
"No." Not an instant of hesitation. Or, sadly, surprise. "You're hurting and you need some time. That's not weakness."
Another long silence, before Scott explained, "The Professor. He didn't tell me because he didn't think I could handle it."
Jean frowned, tamping down on a flare of anger that was frightenly intense... but somehow, she couldn't think of where to focus it.
"Is that what he said?"
"Basically," at least to Scott's understanding. He kept his gaze on the fire, snapping and crackling as it burned through the wood, unable to face Jean as he admitted what had happened. He wondered idly, if he was like their campsite; temporarily useful, but not much more. "I wasn't capable, he said, of making a good choice about what to do. Thought I would give up, if I knew I'd been compromised."
"Then he's blind," Jean said, her tone harsh and clipped. "That's not you, Scott. You doubt yourself more than you deserve, but you push through any way. You don't just give up."
Her sharpness surprised him, at least a bit. But he was grateful for it, grateful he wasn't along in his frustration and disillusionment.
The Professor may have meant well, but he'd gone about it wrong. He was, at the end of the day, only a man. He hadn't asked to be Scott's patron saint. It was Scott who had beatified him because he'd needed someone to save him.
"Now he's afraid I will go after Essex." Scott said, looking at her seriously. "He's right to be."
"I wouldn't expect anything less," Jean said. Her anger had a target now. She and the Professor were going to be having a talk of their own whenever she got back to the school. About what he'd done to Scott. About anything he might have done to her. "But I trust you. Remember what I told you before? You're not doing this alone. All or none, Scott."
"Two possible outcomes," Scott murmured, repeating what the Professor had said. "Does it scare you?"
"Probably not as much as it should," Jean admitted. "I don't know as much about Essex a you do."
Scott actually chuckled a bit at that, softly, "Apparently I don't know as much about him as I do, either."
Jean wrapped an arm around his shoulders. "Your life is a never-ending wonder of fucked up surprises, Scott Summers," she murmured, hoping to keep that laugh around just a little longer.
"It's a good thing I'm dating a twisted individual who finds that amusing rather than taking it for the 50 red flags it is," he teased gently. His mind was still churning, he was sure she could feel it, but he felt anchored by the warm weight of her arm around him.
It was Jean who wound up laughing this time, her hold on Scott tightening. "Two of a kind. right?"
"So we're both twisted? I'd buy that," he told her, smiling a bit. Fuck knew he was, and she seemed to like him anyway. "Which, I mean...you called me your boyfriend, so this can be our version of matching shirts or something."
"Not twisted. But put back together different from what we started out as." She gave him a light nudge. "And I called you my boyfriend because you are, Summers. You're the only one who doesn't seem to believe it."
His cheeks flushed a bit pink, which became even harder to dispel when he remembered their sleeping arrangements for the evening. "I'm a lucky bastard, then." Scott didn't deserve her. He knew that. Hell, everyone knew it (likely including the Professor). Only Jean herself seemed unaware of that fact.
******
Haute cuisine McDonald's wasn't. But it was easy to find if one needed to pull off the interstate for a pit stop, reasonably clean, and there was something like plant matter available on the menu.
Besides, there was sentimental value.
Jean settled in by the window while she waited for their order to come up. She'd been doing a lot of thinking since that night at the camp site. A lot of wondering about Xavier's motives and his overall trustworthiness.
Scott sat across from her, clearly also lost in his own thoughts. Whatever the Professor had said about why he'd done what he'd done, the damage was still done. It would take awhile to heal. But that would take time, and was painful, so it was easier to focus on the part of the problem that at least had some clear paths forward.
What should he do? Take the Professor's advice on what steps to take next? Demand something more radical? Less? Just thinking about it made him feel mildly sick. Which was possibly not the best state for eating in a restaurant - even if the restaurant was McDonald's- but he couldn't exactly fix it now.
Jean looked as troubled as he felt, and Scott nudged her gently with his foot. "You okay?"
"Yeah." She looked over at him. "I've just been thinking that he was deep in my head a lot. Helping to put me back together."
He frowned in thought at the implication. "You think he might have done something without telling you" he interpreted. He couldn't exactly blame her.
"Maybe. I don't know." She sighed. "That's the problem. I didn't have any reason to doubt before. Not really. But if he'd do that to you, when you trusted him with everything... I don't know. Maybe it's less that I think he did anything than I wonder at his motivations for waking me up in the first place now."
"To hear his side of what he did to me, he made a mistake or two maybe, but they were mistakes of compassion," Scott said slowly, not entirely sure why he was letting the Professor defend himself through him. Maybe he felt bad, for shaking Jean's trust quite so badly. Still, it was true that Jean knew far more about her relationship with Xavier than he did.
"Other than helping pull a scared kid out of her own mind, what motivations might he have had?" He asked thoughtfully, clearly taking her concern seriously.
"A combination telepath/telekinetic makes a fine potential addition to a squad of mutant vigilantes, wouldn't you say?"
"Oh, undoubtedly," Scott agreed, readily enough. And Jean was clearly powerful in both respects, and so far had managed to keep a good head under pressure. From a team perspective, she was a surefire benefit. "I guess the only question is if he was planning, back then. Because you were the first, right? His first student."
"Who can tell? Maybe he was looking for students then. Maybe he got the idea after he found me. Or as far back as his split with Magneto."
Scott quirked an eyebrow. "My paranoia must be rubbing off," he said, nudging her gently again.
"It's only paranoia if it's groundless, right?" Jean sighed. "Sorry. I probably am overreacting. It's just that what he held back from you... was pretty big."
He was quiet for a moment, thoughtful. "I don't think you're paranoid, for what it's worth. I just had to ask the questions," he finally said. "He told me a big lie for a long time. We can't know what else he's conveniently left out."
"We can't," Jean agreed. "And we need a plan of attack for what we do know now, don't we?"
Scott nodded. "There's a lot of pieces to consider," he admitted. "And he'll be watching us, now. The Professor."
"The smart play would be to offer his help," Jean said, considering. "Even if we can't trust him the same way as before, he has to know we're going to try, with or without him."
"He offered to break the barriers down, if I want him to. It'd give him one-on-one time with me multiple times each week," Scott said, nodding.
"So I guess that's the big question, then? Do we ask him to help or deliver an ultimatum? And do we do it before the rest of X-Force knows?"
Scott was quiet for a long moment, thoughtful. "I don't know that we can cut him out of this. There's no other way to break the barriers down." It was an uncomfortable position, to need him so desperately when he had just betrayed Scott's trust. "And I don't want to tell X-Force. It might get out, and if Alex finds out where Essex is he will try to kill him.
"I'm not letting him become a murderer just for that asshole. He's not worth it." Scott said.
"I wasn't thinking cutting him out," Jean said, considering how to articulate her thoughts. "More let him know that this is something we plan to pursue and see how he reacts. And then we have to decide how to respond."
"If he is going to be in my head, I can't imagine he won't find out," Scott mused. "It might be better to get it out there, from the start. Force his hand on it."
Jean nodded. "United front. Though that might be more effective if we had some of the other students standing with us. But then we're back to the secrecy issue again." She brightend for a moment when the server brought their order over, then went back to frowning in concentration. "Maybe let in a few of the others that we'd trust to go along with this? I can't imagine this will just stay between us and the Professor anyway once we get past planning."
Scott frowned in thought, and began idly picking at his food. Jean wasn't wrong, but that tactic would also be a show of force. He understood the impulse - he was angry too, at Xavier, at Essex - but it could also backfire. If they came at the Professor hard he could employ his own tactics to delay them. To stop Scott from doing what needed to be done. For all his talk of ethics, and his claimed sentimentality as related to Scott (and, Scott presumed, to Jean who'd been his very first student), the Professor could be ruthlessly practical. It was one of the things that the two of them had in common.
Hell, that was part of how they'd ended up here.
"An initial show of force like that could push him too hard," he said seriously, though he was clearly still mulling the idea over. "He is uniquely situated to slow everything down, or even intentionally derail it, if he thinks he needs to."
Not even getting into his concern about how to even pick such a team. How did you ask students to face a nightmare? More than that, how did you guarantee their silence once you did? Because if Alex found out, he'd want in. He'd probably be hurt Scott hadn't come to him from the very beginning; they were brothers, and this trauma had been shared. But killing someone was traumatic too, and Scott wasn't comfortable letting Alex take that burden on.
"So the soft approach, then?" Jean glanced down at their orders, then stifled an unexpected giggle. "Oh, God..."
Scott blinked in confusion, he'd hardly looked at the food. "What?"
"Sorry. I just realized this is pretty much what we had on our first date. All we're missing is the Disney."
Shaking his brain out of the complicated planning reverie it had been inhabiting, Scott realized she was right. He managed the smallest of smiles for her, "and the intense nerves. At least on my end."
"It was an ambush. I'm surprised you had time for nerves." Jean smiled and gave his hand a squeeze.
"I had less time for them," he conceded. "But when a girl who is way out of your league and that you have a dopey crush on asks you to hang out..."
"Anyway. I'm glad you did."
"So am I. And I don't think it was such a dopey crush."
His cheeks pinked. "That's lucky for me, then." Scott squeezed her hand. "Thanks for...everything."
"I'll have to let you know what I was thinking sometime." Jean reluctantly released his hand and went back to her food. The distraction hadn't been deliberate, but maybe it had been a good thing. Jean had been more aggressive than she expected of herself, and she'd been drawing Scott into a bad place.
"I look forward to it," he murmured. Scott picked at his food some more; he hadn't had much appetite since his meeting with the Professor. He was silent for a moment, before offering, "I sure know how to show you a good time, huh? I'm guessing I'm off vacation planning duty next time."
"Let's see about vacation first. I'd say this is a working trip with decent scenery."
She had a point, there, though Scott had trouble reconciling 'work trip' with 'AWOL.' "Fair enough." He conceded.
"Should I just rip the band-aid off? Ask him to break the walls down all at once?" He blurted out. It had been weighing on his mind ever since that meeting.
"No," Jean said, quiet but immediate. "Do I think you could endure it? Yes. But I don't want you hurt any more than need be by this, Scott. So if you trust the Professor enough to take the gentler way, I think you should."
"It will take weeks, he said. Maybe longer." He tore a French fry into pieces as he spoke. "A delay only helps the good doctor. And the Professor, if he's going to try to stop me."
"Essex has been doing this for a long time, Scott. And anything that possibly sets you back also helps him."
Scott frowned. What he didn't, couldn't, admit was his concern that this would be slow torture. He was good at massive pain and then picking up the pieces, total chaos and then an immediate response, his whole life had been like that. This? A long, drawn-out pain that he could do nothing about, and could only endure? He wasn't good at that, he'd fled from Essex House and from Jack over and over. His instinct was flight, not fight, in those situations.
What if he couldn't handle it? What if the Professor was right, and he was too weak?
"We don't know that it will set me back." It was a weak argument at best, but it was all he had.
"If that's how you want to do this, Scott, I'm not going to wrestle the decision out of your hands," Jean assured him. "Especially if you're not at a place where you trust the Professor that much. I'll come with you for it, if you want."
The lack of something to push back against left him even more uncertain. The Professor had said it could shred his mind, to do it all at once. He'd used the word 'infantile state.' But what if it was a way of delaying what Scott would inevitably do with the information?
What if it was true?
Scott clenched his fists and then released them again as he tried to get a handle on his fear - and that was what it was now - all of these options were shit. "If you were me, what would you do?"
"In these exact circumstances?" Jean regarded him seriously. "Probably curl up under the bed and stay there until things changed. But that's not really an option, is it?"
He smirked, "I mean, clearly that's what I started with."
"Mmm." Jean offered him the faintest smile. "We're not heading back any time soon. We have time to think on strategy."
He ate a slightly cold fry. "If you'd told me when I first met you that you would one day voluntarily run off to the woods with me, I'd have said you were nuts."
Jean laughed. "And I would have blushed so hard my hair would have caught fire." Even so, her cheeks had gone slightly pink.
She was pretty slightly flustered, Scott thought, and once he swallowed he smiled at her. Not doofily. Maybe. Hopefully not, anyway. "Been everything you thought it would?" He asked.
"That's a daring question to ask a telepath," Jean pointed out, smile still lingering and easy. "But I had no idea what to expect, aside from getting to know you a little better. And I've definitely had that."
He looked down at the table, feeling mildly embarrassed. "I must get less attractive by the day," Scott admitted. He was like a black hole of flaky ridiculous shit. Plenty of people did t like him. Hell, he didn't even like him. He couldn't imagine why she did.
And now he'd dragged her into the woods to listen to him whine. You are the worst boyfriend, Summers.
"Scott, you know I wouldn't be here if that was the truth. Give us both some credit."
Scott flushed with shame. "Sorry. I....sorry." For dragging her out here. For not giving her enough credit. For breaking her faith in the Professor. For infecting her life with his ridiculous bullshit. For everything. "Sorry."
Jean reached across the table and squeezed his hand. "Come on. Let's go someplace where we've got a few less prying eyes."
Scott nodded and then, thoughtfully, grabbed a cheeseburger and inhaled it in a few bites before packing the rest of it up to come with them. He'd been hungry too many times to waste food, even if he wasn't hungry now. "Where, uh, where to?"
"Let's... just ride until we see a good spot."
******
Hours on the road had let Scott stop thinking about much beyond speed, the scenery, and more distractingly the warm press of Jean against his back. It was a nice, and much needed, respite. He wasn't sure if it was more comforting or terrifying how well Jean Grey knew him.
Still, they couldn't ride forever. And so, seeing a relatively clear looking trail off to his right, he pulled them off the road so they could stop for the night. Pulling off his helmet have him chills for a moment, as evening air hit sweat, but it was refreshing more than uncomfortable. "Hey," he greeted as Jean took off her helmet.
"Hey, yourself. I was missing that face." Jean shook her hair out, then turned her attention up the trail. There wasn't much to it; cinders and sand bordered by a few wide beams. It didn't look as if it had seen use in a while. "Want to walk the bike a while and see where this goes?"
He did not stare at Jean as she shook out her hair. Probably. Maybe. Hopefully.
He nodded a little. "Yeah, sure." Scott hung his helmet off the handle bar and reached for hers. "Let's see what's up there."
Jean handed hers over and took up position on the other side of the bike. The path was nice; not so shaded as to completely block out the last of the sunset, but definitely enough shade to deterr insects. It sloped up slightly after a a few yards, and Jean frowned a little.
"I think this is a driveway. Or was, once upon a time. But it doesn't look as if anyone's used it in ages."
Scott slowed, taking it all in. "Is the ground singed, or is that just my glasses filtering things weird?" He asked. Sometimes he couldn't tell, and he was past the point of being embarrassed about it. At least when he was with Jean.
Jean frowned. "Hold the bike a second?" She crouched down to get a better look in the dimming light. It was, in part, a cinder path... but those didn't tend to incorperate actual pieces of charred wood. "It's not just you." Jean stood. "I think there was a fire here. A while back, though. There's burned bits of wood, but they're pretty spongy."
"Old burn out," he mused, nodding a little. Scott started pushing the bike further up the path. "Wonder what we're walking into. Ever feel like you live in a horror film, Red?"
"Only when I get between Jean-Paul and the stove." The path opened up ahead, leading to a weedy sort of clearing. There was no sign of the house that might have stood there once save for the charred bits of detritus being reclaimed by the earth, and a tall brick chimney standing defiant on a sooty slab foundation. "I think this is more a Scooby Doo moment."
"Can't say I've ever watched it," he admitted. At least, not that he remembered. Scott put down the kickstand, even if they didn't stay here for the night, they could take a break here. "Childhood favorite?"
"Cultural osmosis," Jean confessed. "I've never watched it either." She began doing a walk around the perimeter, then went to examine the chimney. "There's still a fireplace attached to this."
Scott walked over and knelt down to check it out. "Bet we could build a fire in here," he agreed. "I mean, if you want to."
After all, he'd dragged her around enough today.
"Once it's darker," she agreed. "So no one sees the smoke. We are technically trespassing."
Scott smirked, and there was only the slightest hint of bitterness to it. "It'll be the cutest thing on my rap sheet, though," he protested. "It'll be like putting a pink bunny sticker on it."
Still, he stood and look around the area. "Wanna stick around here for a bit, then? Or should we move on." After all, just because he had a history of only following the laws that suited him didn't mean that he had to mess up Jean's life.
"Bad boy image to go with the bike, Summers?" Jean gave him a nudge. "Let's go hunting wood so we're not stumbling around in the dark."
"You know me. I'm all about image," he agreed dryly. "Let's hunt for some wood, though, Bonnie. That way we're ready."
By the time the sun had gone down, they'd managed to get a small fire going and set up their camp for the night around the fireplace. Jean got cold McDonalds and the MREs out of the saddlebags. "Tonight, we feast."
"Like the Doomsday Preppers of old," Scott intoned solemnly. "Miss the school cafeteria yet?"
"Maybe the showers." Jean settled down beside him. "I've been thinking, Scott. I'd like to try something, but I want to make sure you're OK with me inside your head first."
He blinked at the shift in conversation, but then the neurons in his brain began firing and he blushed. "I don't know that you want to be in there when you just mentioned you in connection with a shower. Not to give you too much insight into the teenaged male mind."
"Um." Jean shared in the blush, but glanced down at the watch on her wrist with mock-urgency. "We could talk about math homework? Sports?"
Scott blushed even harder, and now it was hard not to think about it, because thinking about why he shouldn't think about it just made him think about it more.
Jesus fuck, his thoughts were like a bad 90's sitcom. How did anyone stand him?
"What'd, uh, what'd you want to go in there for?" He asked, to change the subject.
"There's this bad habit you have of absolutely refusing to believe your girlfriend might actually like you." She bumped his shoulder with her own. "I thought.... maybe you'd like to see for yourself."
He blinked once. Twice. "You'd project how you feel...to me?" He asked slowly.
"Feelings, maybe a couple of memories if you feel up to it." She gave his hand a squeeze. "No pressure though. You've had a lot going on in your head lately."
Scott played with her fingers gently while he thought it over. There, in his head, she....she couldn't lie to him, right? She wouldn't, he didn't think. Not Jean. He needed to believe that. He needed to believe there was someone he could trust without having to overthink it.
He needed this.
Slowly, Scott nodded. "If you want to. I...you being in my head is different."
"OK." Jean reached over to tuck a lock of Scott's hair back behind his ear. "I promise, it's a standing offer. We don't have to do it now if you don't want to."
He leaned into her touch, unconsciously. "I want to." He needed to. If he couldn't let Jean in there, he couldn't let anyone in. And how would he ever get the Professor to knock those walls down then? Besides, it seemed like this was important to her, too.
"Thanks." She shifted just enough to let her hand cup his cheek, then settled more firmly against his side, so that they were helping to prop each other up. "I know it's hard for you to let people in. But I'm not going to hurt you."
"I trust you." More than he trusted anyone else. This was Jean. And whatever else he knew, he knew with some certainty that she wouldn't hurt him on purpose.
He met her eyes through ruby quartz, close enough now that his might even be visible to her. "I trust you."
"I won't let you down." Her mind brushed his, light as a spring breeze. Permission had been given, but she wouldn't invade all at once. Jean rested at the threshold of his consciousness a moment, then flowed into his mind.
Hi.
It was unusual - Jean had always been scrupulous in her respect of his mental privacy - but almost comforting. Intimate, in a way he wouldn't have assumed based on his prior experiences with telepathy. It was like her mentally holding his hand. Hi, he thought back, giving her a slight smile.
Jean's soft laugh rilled through both their minds like a summer brook, and she let him feel her warm rush affection for him, for that quiet understatement of his that was self-aware enough to be reassuring, but too easily turned to self-deprecation.
He couldn't help the widening of his smile and the warmth and affection and trust she undoubtedly felt coming from him in response. I actually like having you in here. It was a comforting hyper-awareness of her, her presence, her solid warmth.
I like seeing you like this. Her thoughts flowed into his. A memory: Setting eyes on Scott in class, her first time seeing him. Thinking how he was cute, but the sunglasses inside were kind of pretentious. Listening to him speak in class, and deciding the intelligence behind those hidden eyes more than made up for the fashion quirk.
Good thing I wasn't wearing the goggles that day. Nothing could've made up for that. Despite the joke, he was flushed with pleasure and felt genuinely surprised. She'd thought he was smart? And cute? Even back then?
I might have stared longer. And with less subtlety. She let her own embarrassed flush show through, though it was tinged with the pleasure of knowing how that had turned out. I was hoping you'd want to talk that say I was stalking you with my camera.
I'm just lucky no one saw me staring at you, when I first saw you. The thought hadn't been intentional, but it was true. The memory came unbidden: she'd been bringing in her suitcases her first day, and he had stared. Determination and bright hair and a clear warmth. He still stared at her sometimes. It was a good thing he wore opaque shades. I was surprised when you seemed to actually want to talk to me.
I wouldn't have believed you if you'd told me back then. There was a fondly rueful tinge to her affection now. I was waiting for someone else to notice you.
Scott huffed a little, both physically and mentally. He couldn't lie here, in his own head, and his response was more reflexively honest than it ever could have been had he been speaking. I was never worth noticing. Unbidden, a memory flashed in his mind of Wynonna's proposition to him, but he'd already liked Jean by then. Had already been in too deep. I only noticed you, anyway.
You were always worth noticing, Scott. And not just by me. You see how many of the others look up to you.
Scott shrugged a little, awkwardly, though she could undoubtedly feel the rush of adoration that flowed through him at her words. I would've never believed you, if you'd said so back then. He hardly believed her now, and even then he believed that she believed it, which wasn't quite the same.
You know why so much of X-Force look up to you? Back in the real world, her hand settled gently on the back of his neck. They all know you'd do anything to get them back home safe. That they're not expendable, not just little toy soldiers.
He leaned in, resting his forehead against hers. His eyes were closed, both because being so close to her with them open made him nervous and because he wasn't sure what she might see in them, if they were open. Fear? Love? Hell, they were only just boyfriend and girlfriend, her seeing fear in there would be better, honestly.
I didn't...think anyone noticed. He didn't see himself as any different than the rest of X-Force. He never had. It was why he so frequently reminded people that he wasn't in charge. I just thought it was because I had been doing it the longest..
Before there had been an X-Force, even. When it had just been him and the Professor. He'd been the first. For the first time, Scott had to wonder if it had been calculated.
That's part of it. She had to allow that much. But it wouldn't mean anything if you hadn't been able to inspire confidence as well. Don't sell yourself short, Scott. Or the rest of us.
The corners of his lips went up, just a touch. I never want to sell you short, Red. His brain was awash with affection, adoration even, and a deep well of respect when he thought of her, and Scott couldn't imagine she didn't feel it.
The nickname brought a fresh wash of pleasure from Jean. They were meshing with each other, feeding into each other's affections. Trust and joy, with the faint underlay of desire adding a more potent warmth.
Remember Christmas? Suspended in snowfall, in Scott's arms, a shared kiss, back before it all went to hell. Jean moved closer, covered his lips with hers again.
He kissed her back gently. You were so beautiful. You always are. But I will always remember how you looked that night. One of his hands slid up, gently cupping her cheek and running his thumb slowly over her soft skin. Everything about her drew him closer, and he wrestled down the desire to push things further.
She leaned into his touch, deepened the kiss. Scott. The warmth between them pulsed, heat and uncertainty. Love me?
It was like a bolt of lightening to his very core. His hands shook just a bit, even as he matched her passion. Desire, almost always present but usually suppressed, flowed from his mind to hers. Close on its heels was a touch of uncertainty; he didn't want to misunderstand her, to make her uncomfortable. Still, it knocked him off his mental feet, and made it impossible to stop the admission, I do.
A moment of hesitation, then the last barrier dropped. The uncertainty was burned away in a heartbeat of answering desire and first love, intertwined in a smoldering need. And I you. Now let me show you.
He couldn't have said no to that even if he'd wanted to. And he didn't want to.
---------
The night air on his damp skin was cool, and he hugged Jean tighter against his side. His heart was still pounding in his chest, but for the first time in a very long time he felt somewhat at peace. He felt centered. Tonight had been...it had been everything. Jean was fire and passion and love and truth, and if he knew nothing else he knew that he would remember tonight for the rest of his life. He ran his thumb up and down her side, going over her smooth skin for the umpteenth time that night. He wasn't sure he'd ever get enough of it. "I love you," he mumbled.
Jean kissed him, one of dozens they'd shared that night...
(kisses, gentle words, laughter, encouragement, need, love)
...but still a fresh exploration of him. "It sounds different when you say it out loud," she murmured, smiling against his lips. "Like you're calling me from far away, even though you're right here."
"Mmm," he hummed in quiet agreement. He kissed her forehead. I can still feel you. Here. But that could just be wishful thinking.
Because it was comforting, because it was security, because it kept him tethered to her and grounded by her quiet confidence and certainty.
You're not wishful. Just perceptive. She wrapped him in a fresh mental embrace. I could get too used to this, she admitted. It feels right.
Me too. But at the moment, Scott couldn't really conceive of how that might be a bad thing.
Mmm. Jean stretched against him, then used her telekinesis to set another couple of sticks on the fire. She was slightly sore, more than a little sticky, and utterly, lazily content. After so much time inside of her own head, trying to keep others out, this rush of intimacy with Scott was intoxicating. I'm never moving again.
Maybe we don't have to go back, Scott joked, though there was a wistful quality to it. Here they were just Jean and Scott. And if his baggage had been what had driven them into this roadtrip, it wasn't as ever present here as it was when they were at school. There he was still Scott, but he was also Cyclops. It was different.
Jean laughed aloud. Well, for starters, Jean-Paul and Warren would track us down and kill us.
Scott snorted. They'd have to beat Alex and Fatale to it, he pointed out. Though you'll be pleased to know that when Warren began to ride my ass for leaving suddenly via text, he calmed down when he found out you were here. So they will hopefully only kill me.
OK, you get that point. Jean ran her fingers lazily through his hair. And if they try to kill you, I'll make them think they're kittens or something. But we still have to go back.
Snoopy and Woodstock, Scott recommended helpfully. He relaxed even further into her touch, feeling nearly boneless. He turned his head to kiss the inside of her arm, impulsively. It'll be different when we go back.
Yeah. She shivered at the warm tickle of his lips. There will be some big decisions waiting on us. It'll be OK, though. No matter what you decide, you won't be doing it alone.
Scott swallowed hard, his loose grip around her waist tightening for a moment. "The Professor," he said aloud. He needed to do this aloud, to give her the space and the privacy to say 'no' to what he was about to ask, if she wanted to or needed to. "He said if I have him break down the walls incrementally, that it might...uh...that it could be....that it might not be a bad idea to have someone there. That I trust. To...remind me of who I am."
No one knew him better than Jean. No one. She'd seen his entire self tonight. If he still had a soul, Jean had looked at it.
Her lips formed "yes", but he felt the strength of her answer in his mind, a fierce protectiveness and reassurance. There was some trepidation, that unavoidable fear of the unknown, but it was dwarfed by a determination that was partly her feelings for him, partly anger at what had been done to him.
We don't know what's in there, he warned. If the Professor was worried, even knowing who had Scott had been and what he had done, it was worth warning Jean. For all that she'd seen him stripped down, in all senses, his past hadn't come up and he was in no hurry to revisit those times. But that meant being extra careful, and giving her every opportunity to opt out.
I know. And if there's anything I can't handle, I'll speak up. But I want to be there for you.
The gratitude he felt was almost overwhelming, as was the sense of relief. It had been weighing on him, what to do with the Professor's warnings and his own sense of privacy, Jean was almost like a savior. Thank you. He kissed her briefly. For being you. For everything.
Multiple cuts, because teh long.
Scott had managed not to swear out loud, much, when he'd put together their tent. He'd camped as a kid with his family, and that had been the last time he'd done this with something as fancy as a real tent. Running away as a kid...that had involved tarps, and rope, and a shoestring budget. It just hadn't been worth what would come if Jack had found a true tent in his possession.
The Professor, however, had had no such qualms, so at least Jean would have decent digs.
Scott realized, of course, that was a matter of opinion. It was a real tent, placed on and under tarp to keep it dry, but it was small, furnished with a single sleeping bag and some spare blankets he'd grabbed once he'd learned Jean was coming. In consideration of that fact, he'd also pulled them into a real campground, albeit one that seemed relatively rundown and mostly empty. He needed the distance from people.
With geographic distance between him and the mansion, he felt like he could breathe again.
"I've got MREs," he offered, which had to be the weirdest dinner-for-your-girlfriend offer he'd ever made. "Or I can try to catch us something."
"MREs are fine," Jean assured him (though it took her a moment to remember what those actually were; right, army food). "I think we can let Thumper sleep easy for tonight. Did you do a lot of this survival stuff before Xavier's?"
He shrugged awkwardly. "When I was a kid, with my dad. And when I ran away a few times. Later." When Essex house had been too much. When Jack had. "You ever go camping?"
"In the back yard a few times, when Sara and I were really little," Jean said. "Never for real, though. Is there anything I can do to help? I mean, do we need firewood or something?"
"Princess tent?" Scott asked, just a hint of tease to his voice. Still, even with the slight increase in levity, he sounded a bit strained. "And, uh, yeah. If you want to look for dry wood, I'll work on grabbing kindling and then get it set up."
"Power Rangers," Jean supplied. "But only because the princess tents weren't supposed to be used outdoors." She offered him a smile and went hunting sticks. One of the benefits to having telekinisis: you could carry a lot more wood than in your own two arms, and you didn't have to get your hands dirty.
"Power Rangers. Girl after my own heart." He began scouting around for brush and dried leaves, managing to amass a good armful before long. He put it on the center of the fire pit, and began arranging the materials for best effect.
Jean called over one shoulder. "Oh yeah? Which series?"
"I'm a purist, Grey. The original." Still crouching, he turned to look at her curiously. "Which was yours?"
"Boy after my own heart," Jean said with a laugh.
His smile was tired, and shadowed, but genuine. "Knew you had some fine tastes." He stood up, tucking his dirty hands in his pockets. "Need any help?"
Jean looked at the five-foot-stack of sticks and dead branches she'd collected while they were talking and grimaced. Such overkill.
"Do you know how to build a log cabin?"
He cocked an eyebrow. "Willing to learn, but I'm not sure either of us is the Little House in the Big Woods type."
"Then no, I'm good." She set the wood not too far from the tent (though far enough that they wouldn't suffer if the stacking job turned out to be less than stable). "If we're not staying more than a couple of days, we'll be leaving wood for whoever show up next."
Scott went over and grabbed a few logs before returning to the fire pit to set them up. That done, he crouched and lit the kindling. Once he finished blowing on it and nursing it to life, he stood. "We will see," he said a touch cryptically.
"No rush. It's been an interesting day." Jean settled beside the fire, watching as the flames crawled timidly over the twigs and shredded bark before catching in earnest.
"I bet you say that to every guy who drags you out of school and into the forest," Scott said dryly. Hearing it, he cocked his head, and added, "Which makes me sound serial killer-y, now that I say it out loud."
"Since I could pitch you across the interstate if you were getting on my nerves?" Jean grinned. "Not really. Context and all that."
He smirked. "Be still my beating heart." He took a seat next to her, staring contemplatively into the flames.
Jean didn't intrude into his thoughts. She knew Scott had a lot on his mind, things he'd share when he was ready. She meant to be there for him when that moment came.
After a long period of silence, he finally asked, "Am I weak?"
"No." Not an instant of hesitation. Or, sadly, surprise. "You're hurting and you need some time. That's not weakness."
Another long silence, before Scott explained, "The Professor. He didn't tell me because he didn't think I could handle it."
Jean frowned, tamping down on a flare of anger that was frightenly intense... but somehow, she couldn't think of where to focus it.
"Is that what he said?"
"Basically," at least to Scott's understanding. He kept his gaze on the fire, snapping and crackling as it burned through the wood, unable to face Jean as he admitted what had happened. He wondered idly, if he was like their campsite; temporarily useful, but not much more. "I wasn't capable, he said, of making a good choice about what to do. Thought I would give up, if I knew I'd been compromised."
"Then he's blind," Jean said, her tone harsh and clipped. "That's not you, Scott. You doubt yourself more than you deserve, but you push through any way. You don't just give up."
Her sharpness surprised him, at least a bit. But he was grateful for it, grateful he wasn't along in his frustration and disillusionment.
The Professor may have meant well, but he'd gone about it wrong. He was, at the end of the day, only a man. He hadn't asked to be Scott's patron saint. It was Scott who had beatified him because he'd needed someone to save him.
"Now he's afraid I will go after Essex." Scott said, looking at her seriously. "He's right to be."
"I wouldn't expect anything less," Jean said. Her anger had a target now. She and the Professor were going to be having a talk of their own whenever she got back to the school. About what he'd done to Scott. About anything he might have done to her. "But I trust you. Remember what I told you before? You're not doing this alone. All or none, Scott."
"Two possible outcomes," Scott murmured, repeating what the Professor had said. "Does it scare you?"
"Probably not as much as it should," Jean admitted. "I don't know as much about Essex a you do."
Scott actually chuckled a bit at that, softly, "Apparently I don't know as much about him as I do, either."
Jean wrapped an arm around his shoulders. "Your life is a never-ending wonder of fucked up surprises, Scott Summers," she murmured, hoping to keep that laugh around just a little longer.
"It's a good thing I'm dating a twisted individual who finds that amusing rather than taking it for the 50 red flags it is," he teased gently. His mind was still churning, he was sure she could feel it, but he felt anchored by the warm weight of her arm around him.
It was Jean who wound up laughing this time, her hold on Scott tightening. "Two of a kind. right?"
"So we're both twisted? I'd buy that," he told her, smiling a bit. Fuck knew he was, and she seemed to like him anyway. "Which, I mean...you called me your boyfriend, so this can be our version of matching shirts or something."
"Not twisted. But put back together different from what we started out as." She gave him a light nudge. "And I called you my boyfriend because you are, Summers. You're the only one who doesn't seem to believe it."
His cheeks flushed a bit pink, which became even harder to dispel when he remembered their sleeping arrangements for the evening. "I'm a lucky bastard, then." Scott didn't deserve her. He knew that. Hell, everyone knew it (likely including the Professor). Only Jean herself seemed unaware of that fact.
******
Haute cuisine McDonald's wasn't. But it was easy to find if one needed to pull off the interstate for a pit stop, reasonably clean, and there was something like plant matter available on the menu.
Besides, there was sentimental value.
Jean settled in by the window while she waited for their order to come up. She'd been doing a lot of thinking since that night at the camp site. A lot of wondering about Xavier's motives and his overall trustworthiness.
Scott sat across from her, clearly also lost in his own thoughts. Whatever the Professor had said about why he'd done what he'd done, the damage was still done. It would take awhile to heal. But that would take time, and was painful, so it was easier to focus on the part of the problem that at least had some clear paths forward.
What should he do? Take the Professor's advice on what steps to take next? Demand something more radical? Less? Just thinking about it made him feel mildly sick. Which was possibly not the best state for eating in a restaurant - even if the restaurant was McDonald's- but he couldn't exactly fix it now.
Jean looked as troubled as he felt, and Scott nudged her gently with his foot. "You okay?"
"Yeah." She looked over at him. "I've just been thinking that he was deep in my head a lot. Helping to put me back together."
He frowned in thought at the implication. "You think he might have done something without telling you" he interpreted. He couldn't exactly blame her.
"Maybe. I don't know." She sighed. "That's the problem. I didn't have any reason to doubt before. Not really. But if he'd do that to you, when you trusted him with everything... I don't know. Maybe it's less that I think he did anything than I wonder at his motivations for waking me up in the first place now."
"To hear his side of what he did to me, he made a mistake or two maybe, but they were mistakes of compassion," Scott said slowly, not entirely sure why he was letting the Professor defend himself through him. Maybe he felt bad, for shaking Jean's trust quite so badly. Still, it was true that Jean knew far more about her relationship with Xavier than he did.
"Other than helping pull a scared kid out of her own mind, what motivations might he have had?" He asked thoughtfully, clearly taking her concern seriously.
"A combination telepath/telekinetic makes a fine potential addition to a squad of mutant vigilantes, wouldn't you say?"
"Oh, undoubtedly," Scott agreed, readily enough. And Jean was clearly powerful in both respects, and so far had managed to keep a good head under pressure. From a team perspective, she was a surefire benefit. "I guess the only question is if he was planning, back then. Because you were the first, right? His first student."
"Who can tell? Maybe he was looking for students then. Maybe he got the idea after he found me. Or as far back as his split with Magneto."
Scott quirked an eyebrow. "My paranoia must be rubbing off," he said, nudging her gently again.
"It's only paranoia if it's groundless, right?" Jean sighed. "Sorry. I probably am overreacting. It's just that what he held back from you... was pretty big."
He was quiet for a moment, thoughtful. "I don't think you're paranoid, for what it's worth. I just had to ask the questions," he finally said. "He told me a big lie for a long time. We can't know what else he's conveniently left out."
"We can't," Jean agreed. "And we need a plan of attack for what we do know now, don't we?"
Scott nodded. "There's a lot of pieces to consider," he admitted. "And he'll be watching us, now. The Professor."
"The smart play would be to offer his help," Jean said, considering. "Even if we can't trust him the same way as before, he has to know we're going to try, with or without him."
"He offered to break the barriers down, if I want him to. It'd give him one-on-one time with me multiple times each week," Scott said, nodding.
"So I guess that's the big question, then? Do we ask him to help or deliver an ultimatum? And do we do it before the rest of X-Force knows?"
Scott was quiet for a long moment, thoughtful. "I don't know that we can cut him out of this. There's no other way to break the barriers down." It was an uncomfortable position, to need him so desperately when he had just betrayed Scott's trust. "And I don't want to tell X-Force. It might get out, and if Alex finds out where Essex is he will try to kill him.
"I'm not letting him become a murderer just for that asshole. He's not worth it." Scott said.
"I wasn't thinking cutting him out," Jean said, considering how to articulate her thoughts. "More let him know that this is something we plan to pursue and see how he reacts. And then we have to decide how to respond."
"If he is going to be in my head, I can't imagine he won't find out," Scott mused. "It might be better to get it out there, from the start. Force his hand on it."
Jean nodded. "United front. Though that might be more effective if we had some of the other students standing with us. But then we're back to the secrecy issue again." She brightend for a moment when the server brought their order over, then went back to frowning in concentration. "Maybe let in a few of the others that we'd trust to go along with this? I can't imagine this will just stay between us and the Professor anyway once we get past planning."
Scott frowned in thought, and began idly picking at his food. Jean wasn't wrong, but that tactic would also be a show of force. He understood the impulse - he was angry too, at Xavier, at Essex - but it could also backfire. If they came at the Professor hard he could employ his own tactics to delay them. To stop Scott from doing what needed to be done. For all his talk of ethics, and his claimed sentimentality as related to Scott (and, Scott presumed, to Jean who'd been his very first student), the Professor could be ruthlessly practical. It was one of the things that the two of them had in common.
Hell, that was part of how they'd ended up here.
"An initial show of force like that could push him too hard," he said seriously, though he was clearly still mulling the idea over. "He is uniquely situated to slow everything down, or even intentionally derail it, if he thinks he needs to."
Not even getting into his concern about how to even pick such a team. How did you ask students to face a nightmare? More than that, how did you guarantee their silence once you did? Because if Alex found out, he'd want in. He'd probably be hurt Scott hadn't come to him from the very beginning; they were brothers, and this trauma had been shared. But killing someone was traumatic too, and Scott wasn't comfortable letting Alex take that burden on.
"So the soft approach, then?" Jean glanced down at their orders, then stifled an unexpected giggle. "Oh, God..."
Scott blinked in confusion, he'd hardly looked at the food. "What?"
"Sorry. I just realized this is pretty much what we had on our first date. All we're missing is the Disney."
Shaking his brain out of the complicated planning reverie it had been inhabiting, Scott realized she was right. He managed the smallest of smiles for her, "and the intense nerves. At least on my end."
"It was an ambush. I'm surprised you had time for nerves." Jean smiled and gave his hand a squeeze.
"I had less time for them," he conceded. "But when a girl who is way out of your league and that you have a dopey crush on asks you to hang out..."
"Anyway. I'm glad you did."
"So am I. And I don't think it was such a dopey crush."
His cheeks pinked. "That's lucky for me, then." Scott squeezed her hand. "Thanks for...everything."
"I'll have to let you know what I was thinking sometime." Jean reluctantly released his hand and went back to her food. The distraction hadn't been deliberate, but maybe it had been a good thing. Jean had been more aggressive than she expected of herself, and she'd been drawing Scott into a bad place.
"I look forward to it," he murmured. Scott picked at his food some more; he hadn't had much appetite since his meeting with the Professor. He was silent for a moment, before offering, "I sure know how to show you a good time, huh? I'm guessing I'm off vacation planning duty next time."
"Let's see about vacation first. I'd say this is a working trip with decent scenery."
She had a point, there, though Scott had trouble reconciling 'work trip' with 'AWOL.' "Fair enough." He conceded.
"Should I just rip the band-aid off? Ask him to break the walls down all at once?" He blurted out. It had been weighing on his mind ever since that meeting.
"No," Jean said, quiet but immediate. "Do I think you could endure it? Yes. But I don't want you hurt any more than need be by this, Scott. So if you trust the Professor enough to take the gentler way, I think you should."
"It will take weeks, he said. Maybe longer." He tore a French fry into pieces as he spoke. "A delay only helps the good doctor. And the Professor, if he's going to try to stop me."
"Essex has been doing this for a long time, Scott. And anything that possibly sets you back also helps him."
Scott frowned. What he didn't, couldn't, admit was his concern that this would be slow torture. He was good at massive pain and then picking up the pieces, total chaos and then an immediate response, his whole life had been like that. This? A long, drawn-out pain that he could do nothing about, and could only endure? He wasn't good at that, he'd fled from Essex House and from Jack over and over. His instinct was flight, not fight, in those situations.
What if he couldn't handle it? What if the Professor was right, and he was too weak?
"We don't know that it will set me back." It was a weak argument at best, but it was all he had.
"If that's how you want to do this, Scott, I'm not going to wrestle the decision out of your hands," Jean assured him. "Especially if you're not at a place where you trust the Professor that much. I'll come with you for it, if you want."
The lack of something to push back against left him even more uncertain. The Professor had said it could shred his mind, to do it all at once. He'd used the word 'infantile state.' But what if it was a way of delaying what Scott would inevitably do with the information?
What if it was true?
Scott clenched his fists and then released them again as he tried to get a handle on his fear - and that was what it was now - all of these options were shit. "If you were me, what would you do?"
"In these exact circumstances?" Jean regarded him seriously. "Probably curl up under the bed and stay there until things changed. But that's not really an option, is it?"
He smirked, "I mean, clearly that's what I started with."
"Mmm." Jean offered him the faintest smile. "We're not heading back any time soon. We have time to think on strategy."
He ate a slightly cold fry. "If you'd told me when I first met you that you would one day voluntarily run off to the woods with me, I'd have said you were nuts."
Jean laughed. "And I would have blushed so hard my hair would have caught fire." Even so, her cheeks had gone slightly pink.
She was pretty slightly flustered, Scott thought, and once he swallowed he smiled at her. Not doofily. Maybe. Hopefully not, anyway. "Been everything you thought it would?" He asked.
"That's a daring question to ask a telepath," Jean pointed out, smile still lingering and easy. "But I had no idea what to expect, aside from getting to know you a little better. And I've definitely had that."
He looked down at the table, feeling mildly embarrassed. "I must get less attractive by the day," Scott admitted. He was like a black hole of flaky ridiculous shit. Plenty of people did t like him. Hell, he didn't even like him. He couldn't imagine why she did.
And now he'd dragged her into the woods to listen to him whine. You are the worst boyfriend, Summers.
"Scott, you know I wouldn't be here if that was the truth. Give us both some credit."
Scott flushed with shame. "Sorry. I....sorry." For dragging her out here. For not giving her enough credit. For breaking her faith in the Professor. For infecting her life with his ridiculous bullshit. For everything. "Sorry."
Jean reached across the table and squeezed his hand. "Come on. Let's go someplace where we've got a few less prying eyes."
Scott nodded and then, thoughtfully, grabbed a cheeseburger and inhaled it in a few bites before packing the rest of it up to come with them. He'd been hungry too many times to waste food, even if he wasn't hungry now. "Where, uh, where to?"
"Let's... just ride until we see a good spot."
******
Hours on the road had let Scott stop thinking about much beyond speed, the scenery, and more distractingly the warm press of Jean against his back. It was a nice, and much needed, respite. He wasn't sure if it was more comforting or terrifying how well Jean Grey knew him.
Still, they couldn't ride forever. And so, seeing a relatively clear looking trail off to his right, he pulled them off the road so they could stop for the night. Pulling off his helmet have him chills for a moment, as evening air hit sweat, but it was refreshing more than uncomfortable. "Hey," he greeted as Jean took off her helmet.
"Hey, yourself. I was missing that face." Jean shook her hair out, then turned her attention up the trail. There wasn't much to it; cinders and sand bordered by a few wide beams. It didn't look as if it had seen use in a while. "Want to walk the bike a while and see where this goes?"
He did not stare at Jean as she shook out her hair. Probably. Maybe. Hopefully.
He nodded a little. "Yeah, sure." Scott hung his helmet off the handle bar and reached for hers. "Let's see what's up there."
Jean handed hers over and took up position on the other side of the bike. The path was nice; not so shaded as to completely block out the last of the sunset, but definitely enough shade to deterr insects. It sloped up slightly after a a few yards, and Jean frowned a little.
"I think this is a driveway. Or was, once upon a time. But it doesn't look as if anyone's used it in ages."
Scott slowed, taking it all in. "Is the ground singed, or is that just my glasses filtering things weird?" He asked. Sometimes he couldn't tell, and he was past the point of being embarrassed about it. At least when he was with Jean.
Jean frowned. "Hold the bike a second?" She crouched down to get a better look in the dimming light. It was, in part, a cinder path... but those didn't tend to incorperate actual pieces of charred wood. "It's not just you." Jean stood. "I think there was a fire here. A while back, though. There's burned bits of wood, but they're pretty spongy."
"Old burn out," he mused, nodding a little. Scott started pushing the bike further up the path. "Wonder what we're walking into. Ever feel like you live in a horror film, Red?"
"Only when I get between Jean-Paul and the stove." The path opened up ahead, leading to a weedy sort of clearing. There was no sign of the house that might have stood there once save for the charred bits of detritus being reclaimed by the earth, and a tall brick chimney standing defiant on a sooty slab foundation. "I think this is more a Scooby Doo moment."
"Can't say I've ever watched it," he admitted. At least, not that he remembered. Scott put down the kickstand, even if they didn't stay here for the night, they could take a break here. "Childhood favorite?"
"Cultural osmosis," Jean confessed. "I've never watched it either." She began doing a walk around the perimeter, then went to examine the chimney. "There's still a fireplace attached to this."
Scott walked over and knelt down to check it out. "Bet we could build a fire in here," he agreed. "I mean, if you want to."
After all, he'd dragged her around enough today.
"Once it's darker," she agreed. "So no one sees the smoke. We are technically trespassing."
Scott smirked, and there was only the slightest hint of bitterness to it. "It'll be the cutest thing on my rap sheet, though," he protested. "It'll be like putting a pink bunny sticker on it."
Still, he stood and look around the area. "Wanna stick around here for a bit, then? Or should we move on." After all, just because he had a history of only following the laws that suited him didn't mean that he had to mess up Jean's life.
"Bad boy image to go with the bike, Summers?" Jean gave him a nudge. "Let's go hunting wood so we're not stumbling around in the dark."
"You know me. I'm all about image," he agreed dryly. "Let's hunt for some wood, though, Bonnie. That way we're ready."
By the time the sun had gone down, they'd managed to get a small fire going and set up their camp for the night around the fireplace. Jean got cold McDonalds and the MREs out of the saddlebags. "Tonight, we feast."
"Like the Doomsday Preppers of old," Scott intoned solemnly. "Miss the school cafeteria yet?"
"Maybe the showers." Jean settled down beside him. "I've been thinking, Scott. I'd like to try something, but I want to make sure you're OK with me inside your head first."
He blinked at the shift in conversation, but then the neurons in his brain began firing and he blushed. "I don't know that you want to be in there when you just mentioned you in connection with a shower. Not to give you too much insight into the teenaged male mind."
"Um." Jean shared in the blush, but glanced down at the watch on her wrist with mock-urgency. "We could talk about math homework? Sports?"
Scott blushed even harder, and now it was hard not to think about it, because thinking about why he shouldn't think about it just made him think about it more.
Jesus fuck, his thoughts were like a bad 90's sitcom. How did anyone stand him?
"What'd, uh, what'd you want to go in there for?" He asked, to change the subject.
"There's this bad habit you have of absolutely refusing to believe your girlfriend might actually like you." She bumped his shoulder with her own. "I thought.... maybe you'd like to see for yourself."
He blinked once. Twice. "You'd project how you feel...to me?" He asked slowly.
"Feelings, maybe a couple of memories if you feel up to it." She gave his hand a squeeze. "No pressure though. You've had a lot going on in your head lately."
Scott played with her fingers gently while he thought it over. There, in his head, she....she couldn't lie to him, right? She wouldn't, he didn't think. Not Jean. He needed to believe that. He needed to believe there was someone he could trust without having to overthink it.
He needed this.
Slowly, Scott nodded. "If you want to. I...you being in my head is different."
"OK." Jean reached over to tuck a lock of Scott's hair back behind his ear. "I promise, it's a standing offer. We don't have to do it now if you don't want to."
He leaned into her touch, unconsciously. "I want to." He needed to. If he couldn't let Jean in there, he couldn't let anyone in. And how would he ever get the Professor to knock those walls down then? Besides, it seemed like this was important to her, too.
"Thanks." She shifted just enough to let her hand cup his cheek, then settled more firmly against his side, so that they were helping to prop each other up. "I know it's hard for you to let people in. But I'm not going to hurt you."
"I trust you." More than he trusted anyone else. This was Jean. And whatever else he knew, he knew with some certainty that she wouldn't hurt him on purpose.
He met her eyes through ruby quartz, close enough now that his might even be visible to her. "I trust you."
"I won't let you down." Her mind brushed his, light as a spring breeze. Permission had been given, but she wouldn't invade all at once. Jean rested at the threshold of his consciousness a moment, then flowed into his mind.
Hi.
It was unusual - Jean had always been scrupulous in her respect of his mental privacy - but almost comforting. Intimate, in a way he wouldn't have assumed based on his prior experiences with telepathy. It was like her mentally holding his hand. Hi, he thought back, giving her a slight smile.
Jean's soft laugh rilled through both their minds like a summer brook, and she let him feel her warm rush affection for him, for that quiet understatement of his that was self-aware enough to be reassuring, but too easily turned to self-deprecation.
He couldn't help the widening of his smile and the warmth and affection and trust she undoubtedly felt coming from him in response. I actually like having you in here. It was a comforting hyper-awareness of her, her presence, her solid warmth.
I like seeing you like this. Her thoughts flowed into his. A memory: Setting eyes on Scott in class, her first time seeing him. Thinking how he was cute, but the sunglasses inside were kind of pretentious. Listening to him speak in class, and deciding the intelligence behind those hidden eyes more than made up for the fashion quirk.
Good thing I wasn't wearing the goggles that day. Nothing could've made up for that. Despite the joke, he was flushed with pleasure and felt genuinely surprised. She'd thought he was smart? And cute? Even back then?
I might have stared longer. And with less subtlety. She let her own embarrassed flush show through, though it was tinged with the pleasure of knowing how that had turned out. I was hoping you'd want to talk that say I was stalking you with my camera.
I'm just lucky no one saw me staring at you, when I first saw you. The thought hadn't been intentional, but it was true. The memory came unbidden: she'd been bringing in her suitcases her first day, and he had stared. Determination and bright hair and a clear warmth. He still stared at her sometimes. It was a good thing he wore opaque shades. I was surprised when you seemed to actually want to talk to me.
I wouldn't have believed you if you'd told me back then. There was a fondly rueful tinge to her affection now. I was waiting for someone else to notice you.
Scott huffed a little, both physically and mentally. He couldn't lie here, in his own head, and his response was more reflexively honest than it ever could have been had he been speaking. I was never worth noticing. Unbidden, a memory flashed in his mind of Wynonna's proposition to him, but he'd already liked Jean by then. Had already been in too deep. I only noticed you, anyway.
You were always worth noticing, Scott. And not just by me. You see how many of the others look up to you.
Scott shrugged a little, awkwardly, though she could undoubtedly feel the rush of adoration that flowed through him at her words. I would've never believed you, if you'd said so back then. He hardly believed her now, and even then he believed that she believed it, which wasn't quite the same.
You know why so much of X-Force look up to you? Back in the real world, her hand settled gently on the back of his neck. They all know you'd do anything to get them back home safe. That they're not expendable, not just little toy soldiers.
He leaned in, resting his forehead against hers. His eyes were closed, both because being so close to her with them open made him nervous and because he wasn't sure what she might see in them, if they were open. Fear? Love? Hell, they were only just boyfriend and girlfriend, her seeing fear in there would be better, honestly.
I didn't...think anyone noticed. He didn't see himself as any different than the rest of X-Force. He never had. It was why he so frequently reminded people that he wasn't in charge. I just thought it was because I had been doing it the longest..
Before there had been an X-Force, even. When it had just been him and the Professor. He'd been the first. For the first time, Scott had to wonder if it had been calculated.
That's part of it. She had to allow that much. But it wouldn't mean anything if you hadn't been able to inspire confidence as well. Don't sell yourself short, Scott. Or the rest of us.
The corners of his lips went up, just a touch. I never want to sell you short, Red. His brain was awash with affection, adoration even, and a deep well of respect when he thought of her, and Scott couldn't imagine she didn't feel it.
The nickname brought a fresh wash of pleasure from Jean. They were meshing with each other, feeding into each other's affections. Trust and joy, with the faint underlay of desire adding a more potent warmth.
Remember Christmas? Suspended in snowfall, in Scott's arms, a shared kiss, back before it all went to hell. Jean moved closer, covered his lips with hers again.
He kissed her back gently. You were so beautiful. You always are. But I will always remember how you looked that night. One of his hands slid up, gently cupping her cheek and running his thumb slowly over her soft skin. Everything about her drew him closer, and he wrestled down the desire to push things further.
She leaned into his touch, deepened the kiss. Scott. The warmth between them pulsed, heat and uncertainty. Love me?
It was like a bolt of lightening to his very core. His hands shook just a bit, even as he matched her passion. Desire, almost always present but usually suppressed, flowed from his mind to hers. Close on its heels was a touch of uncertainty; he didn't want to misunderstand her, to make her uncomfortable. Still, it knocked him off his mental feet, and made it impossible to stop the admission, I do.
A moment of hesitation, then the last barrier dropped. The uncertainty was burned away in a heartbeat of answering desire and first love, intertwined in a smoldering need. And I you. Now let me show you.
He couldn't have said no to that even if he'd wanted to. And he didn't want to.
---------
The night air on his damp skin was cool, and he hugged Jean tighter against his side. His heart was still pounding in his chest, but for the first time in a very long time he felt somewhat at peace. He felt centered. Tonight had been...it had been everything. Jean was fire and passion and love and truth, and if he knew nothing else he knew that he would remember tonight for the rest of his life. He ran his thumb up and down her side, going over her smooth skin for the umpteenth time that night. He wasn't sure he'd ever get enough of it. "I love you," he mumbled.
Jean kissed him, one of dozens they'd shared that night...
(kisses, gentle words, laughter, encouragement, need, love)
...but still a fresh exploration of him. "It sounds different when you say it out loud," she murmured, smiling against his lips. "Like you're calling me from far away, even though you're right here."
"Mmm," he hummed in quiet agreement. He kissed her forehead. I can still feel you. Here. But that could just be wishful thinking.
Because it was comforting, because it was security, because it kept him tethered to her and grounded by her quiet confidence and certainty.
You're not wishful. Just perceptive. She wrapped him in a fresh mental embrace. I could get too used to this, she admitted. It feels right.
Me too. But at the moment, Scott couldn't really conceive of how that might be a bad thing.
Mmm. Jean stretched against him, then used her telekinesis to set another couple of sticks on the fire. She was slightly sore, more than a little sticky, and utterly, lazily content. After so much time inside of her own head, trying to keep others out, this rush of intimacy with Scott was intoxicating. I'm never moving again.
Maybe we don't have to go back, Scott joked, though there was a wistful quality to it. Here they were just Jean and Scott. And if his baggage had been what had driven them into this roadtrip, it wasn't as ever present here as it was when they were at school. There he was still Scott, but he was also Cyclops. It was different.
Jean laughed aloud. Well, for starters, Jean-Paul and Warren would track us down and kill us.
Scott snorted. They'd have to beat Alex and Fatale to it, he pointed out. Though you'll be pleased to know that when Warren began to ride my ass for leaving suddenly via text, he calmed down when he found out you were here. So they will hopefully only kill me.
OK, you get that point. Jean ran her fingers lazily through his hair. And if they try to kill you, I'll make them think they're kittens or something. But we still have to go back.
Snoopy and Woodstock, Scott recommended helpfully. He relaxed even further into her touch, feeling nearly boneless. He turned his head to kiss the inside of her arm, impulsively. It'll be different when we go back.
Yeah. She shivered at the warm tickle of his lips. There will be some big decisions waiting on us. It'll be OK, though. No matter what you decide, you won't be doing it alone.
Scott swallowed hard, his loose grip around her waist tightening for a moment. "The Professor," he said aloud. He needed to do this aloud, to give her the space and the privacy to say 'no' to what he was about to ask, if she wanted to or needed to. "He said if I have him break down the walls incrementally, that it might...uh...that it could be....that it might not be a bad idea to have someone there. That I trust. To...remind me of who I am."
No one knew him better than Jean. No one. She'd seen his entire self tonight. If he still had a soul, Jean had looked at it.
Her lips formed "yes", but he felt the strength of her answer in his mind, a fierce protectiveness and reassurance. There was some trepidation, that unavoidable fear of the unknown, but it was dwarfed by a determination that was partly her feelings for him, partly anger at what had been done to him.
We don't know what's in there, he warned. If the Professor was worried, even knowing who had Scott had been and what he had done, it was worth warning Jean. For all that she'd seen him stripped down, in all senses, his past hadn't come up and he was in no hurry to revisit those times. But that meant being extra careful, and giving her every opportunity to opt out.
I know. And if there's anything I can't handle, I'll speak up. But I want to be there for you.
The gratitude he felt was almost overwhelming, as was the sense of relief. It had been weighing on him, what to do with the Professor's warnings and his own sense of privacy, Jean was almost like a savior. Thank you. He kissed her briefly. For being you. For everything.
no subject
Date: 2018-05-23 02:25 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2018-05-31 05:32 pm (UTC)You guys are amazing.
Also, Warren is pretending to be annoyed about the Woodstock thing but actually it's hilarious >.>