Professor X and Scott - Post-Sinister

[ax_cyclops]

The Professor and Scott discuss Cyclops’ rogue mission to take on Sinister.

This sucked. All of it. The pain. The disorientation that Scott could only guess was from a head injury (maybe they’d told him? He couldn’t remember). The tube in his chest for something they’d called a pneumothorax.

The fact that Sinister was still out there. That Scott had endangered his friends and failed.

It all sucked.

Scott shifted uncomfortably in his bed. He hated hospitals, or infirmaries he guessed. The sounds and smells reminded of a time he’d have happily forgotten, and it took everything in him to keep the panic pushed down and not try to escape. How long did he have to be in here? Scott couldn’t remember if he’d been told.

Fuck, he just couldn’t get anything right could he? He’d never be in charge of an op again. He wasn’t fit to run a glee club.

The sound of a door opening interrupted his disjointed musings and, despite the pain and haze from accompanying pain drugs, Scott forced himself to sit up a bit warily.

The Professor. Well. This should be good.

So much suck.

Xavier's expression was somber as his chair wheeled him to Scott's bedside. Though it was against the usual infirmary protocols, he had Mystique in his lap, and was stroking his fingers between the cat's ears. He was quiet for a moment, studying his student's injuries and the machines Hank and Simon had left behind to monitor them. His mouth opened, closed again, and he cleared his throat.

Finally, he said, "Scott. How are you feeling? The medical staff feel you will make a full recovery, but I know from firsthand experience that the journey can be an extremely uncomfortable one."

“I think my idiocy is terminal,” Scott offered, the dryness and bitterness tempered by the drugs he was on. “But I’ll survive the rest.”

"You were foolish," the Professor agreed, with a bare nod. That was as much admonition as he offered, in that moment; as a telepath, he was keenly aware of Scott's roiling emotions, even through the shields he had worked so diligently to develop over the last several months. A rebuke would only serve to reiterate what the elder Summers already knew to be true, and doubtless make him feel worse regarding his poor decision. It served no useful purpose. "But I cannot avoid my own responsibility in this. Clearly, I failed to adequately convey the sheer danger posed by the creature we call Sinister. I should have confided in you more. That mistake, at least, I can correct."

Scott snorted and then winced at the way the exhalation had shifted his lungs. Idly he noted the bandages on his body. Huh. He guessed he’d gotten sliced, too.

“Why bother?” He asked. “I’m not dumb enough to repeat this. I’m too dumb to lead a mission again. I...”

He stopped mid-stream and looked away. “I’m not even sure I can stay here.”

With a sigh, Xavier placed Mystique on the floor, watching as she trotted back out of Scott's room in the infirmary and trusting she'd make it back to his rooms; she knew the mansion better than most of the students, and had never shown any trouble navigating it before. Especially when it meant getting into places she wasn't necessarily meant to be.

"I've spoken to Jean," he said. "And to Jean-Paul and Warren. I haven't had an opportunity yet to talk with Wanda--adjusting to her father's return from his recent captivity is a more pressing concern, and I would be hesitant to intrude on their reunion, in any case. But everything I have heard suggests you were anything but stupid. You planned as well as you possibly could have, and despite a lack of useful intelligence managed to defeat Essex's minions despite their having every possible advantage in the confrontation. Sinister himself, though ... I'm not certain all the students in this school gathered together at once would have been sufficient to achieve your objective, not at our current level. That you forced him to flee is no small accomplishment."

The fragile pinprick of hope and pride he felt did not make it to his face.

“I did exactly what you warned me not to. I put my teammates’, my friends’, lives at risk and I failed.” This was said almost monotone. Whatever emotional response he was having internally had been smothered, and Scott was retreating to ground where he was more insulated from disappointment. Facts, trade-offs, not feelings. “You offered me a place to stay, and I abused it. You don’t...

“I’m eighteen. You have no reason to let me stay here.”

"You took a dangerous chance," Xavier agreed. "And I'm not thrilled at the idea of any of my students being placed in harm's way without my knowledge. But you didn't force your teammates or friends into anything. They joined you of their own volition." The Professor sat back in his chair, resting his forehead in his palm.

"Scott, you haven't abused anything," he continued. "Furthermore I know I don't need to do anything further on your behalf. Obligation has never been much of a consideration in our relationship. I want you to stay, if you want to stay. The two of us, we're learning together. My hardest lesson so far is accepting that the guidelines I set out, however well-intentioned or prudent they may seem, can appear arbitrary or unfair to those who I don't at least attempt to explain my reasoning. And your hardest lesson has been trust. I think you've made much greater strides in your education than I have, so far."

Scott looked at the Professor for a long moment, as though trying to understand what he was saying and why. The effects of the medication and his own exhaustion apparent in the mild confusion that made its way onto his face. “But...why let me stay? I’m grateful,” if it were true, and he reminded himself that the Professor had never lied to him before. Not baldly like that.

Ha. Baldly.

What drugs was he on?

“I am. I just...I’m not adding value now. Before, I needed help and you needed a first student. You,” he swallowed, “you don’t need me anymore.”

Unsaid, of course, was that in many ways Scott did need the Professor. He was the closest thing to a parent Scott had.

"The value you add to the school has nothing to do with your ability as a field operative or as a model of what the students here can achieve," Xavier argued gently. "And the terms under which you remain here have never been conditional; always, it has been a question of your own volition, your own agency. You will be welcome here for as long as you wish to stay, Scott. We are all one great, extended family, I believe, and while we might not always agree with each others' decisions," he frowned slightly, his mind turning to Erik, and what the man had undoubtedly suffered as a result of his ill-advised journey of revenge, "it is the nature of family to forgive. And to support each other when the ramifications of our worse choices become manifest."

He gave a rueful chuckle. "Believe me, this isn't simply an old man's idle philosophy. I've been in the position you are now more than once, in the past. Often for far more trivial reasons. I'm afraid my learning curve was much less acute than yours."

It sounded, much like the Professor’s first overture to him years ago, too good to be true.

But it hadn’t been. It had been true.

“So...I’m holding myself to a higher standard than you think I should,” he interpreted. It was, in a way, comforting to know the Professor had made mistakes too, on his road to being a great man.

Maybe, just maybe, Scott wasn’t a complete lost cause yet.

"Your convictions have been unusually strong for as long as I've known you," Xavier said. "And you have a tendency to hold yourself to an even higher standard than you expect of others. Far be it from me to suggest you compromise your principles. I would, however, suggest that it might not serve any useful purpose for you to be so hard on yourself when you fail to live up to it. We all fail, at one point or another. Take the experience. Use it. Learn from it, and grow into a better man. The kind of man I've always known you could be: one who inspires excellence in others by being a living example of it himself."

Scott actually blushed at that. “I...I don’t know if I can, but...I’ll try.” He’s doubted the Professor before, and been wrong. And to be sure, the older man wasn’t perfect and might be wrong about this but maybe it was worth giving him the benefit of the doubt?

Absently Scott picked at the tape holding his IV in place. “When can I get out of here?” Because the sounds and smells of hospitals have him panicky flutterings in his stomach, for reasons he knew the Professor was well aware of. He wanted out.

"Soon," Xavier replied vaguely. "I'm certain that the medical staff won't keep you a moment longer than necessary. But you do need time to heal. I know it's not a comfortable position for you to be in, but please try to bear it. Remember that you're safe here--Hank or Simon will never be more than a shout away. And I'm no further than a thought. Concentrate for now on rest and recovery."

Scott frowned. He’d never been good at resting. “What will my penance be when I get out?” Since he was confident this was not the sum of the Professor’s words to him on this subject.

"When you're recovered, we'll talk. I owe you a conversation between adults, I think. As for punishment ... I'm really not sure what I could do that would drive your most recent lessons home further than what you've already experienced. Still, I suppose we can discuss that, too. If you want."

Scott nodded and immediately regretted it. His head hurt. “Okay. For what it’s worth, I’m sorry.”

The Professor nodded. "Of course, this puts me in the uneviable position of trying to find a way to discourage students from engaging in this kind of independent vigilante action without also dampening enthusiasm for participation in X-Force. I'm certain to end up sounding like either a hypocrite or a senile old man." He smiled wryly. "I suppose there might be more truth to both accusations than I'd normally care to acknowledge."

“That’s just it, though. It wasn’t X-Force. And look how it turned out.” He looked down at his bed ruefully. And that wasn’t the half of it; they’d failed. “What X-Force does is important.

“And we can’t do it on our own.” And wasn’t that a bitter pill to swallow, but he had only himself to blame.

Xavier seemed surprised to hear Scott speak the words, but he nodded. "I'm afraid the distinction will appear fairly trivial, to those inclined to be critical of the team. Perhaps if I'd been more receptive to tackling Essex head-on, this could have all been avoided. It's a very different, sending you against a human evil like the Right, versus a monster that I know from my own experience--and perhaps fear, a little, too. But your team managed to force him to retreat. With more support, we might have been able to put a stop to him once and for all." He sighed, and pinched the bridge of his nose. "We all have a great deal to think about, it seems."

”Great.” Scott said dryly. “More thinking.”

"Perhaps the most unfortunate reality of transitioning into responsible adulthood," Xavier nodded. "There's always more thinking."

That was undoubtedly true, and Scott had a moment of amusement at being told they would need to think more after having been told his whole life to think a little less.

“Well, if I can help...I mean, it’s my fault you’re in this bind.”

"I can manage the repercussions well enough, in the short-term," The Professor reassured him, then added, "However, once you're more fully recovered, perhaps you might stop by my office one afternoon? We can spend a bit of time thinking at this particular dilemma together."

Scott nodded carefully, in deference to his head. “Yes, sir.”

"I should let you get some rest," Xavier said, giving Scott's shoulder a reassuring squeeze. "We'll speak again soon." He hesitated for a moment, then added, "And Scott? I'm glad you managed to make it back in more or less one piece. It's one of those rare occasions I'm glad to have misjudged a situation. Somewhat."

Scott’s small huff of amusement was followed by a wince. “Somewhat.”