A/N: So the misunderstood tragedy that is Scott Summers grabbed a hold of my plot bunnies, and bolted. This idea's been rattling around for several days now, and I just started putting... fingers to keys? I guess? Can't really say pen to paper. But regardless...

A note on the canon: I'm blending bits of several comic lines, pieces of the movies, and some of my own interpretations in here.

MIND THE WARNINGS: This takes place after all the badness happens, but there are repeated mentions, traumatic nightmares and flashbacks, mentions of the badness, and so on. Experimentation on children -bordering on, if not outright torture - physical, mental, and emotional abuse, and so on abound in this. Yee've been warned

It took Jean a while to realize exactly what drew her to the thin boy, with his hair too long, his face turned down in a perpetual frown, and constantly mumbling. Something about him pulled her in, and by the time she realized what it was, she'd taken a peak under that hard façade, and seen glimpses of the boy inside.

It wasn't that Scott Summers was mean; out of all the words to describe Scott, mean wouldn't even be at the bottom of the list. He was quiet, only speaking to the others if he was spoken to, and even then, it was usually a short yes or no response. Anything that required more than that usually only merited a shrug. He spent most of his time sitting in the large oak tree in the center of the back yard (or at least, Jean called it the back yard -the actual 'back yard' apparently went back well over a hundred acres), listening to tapes on his Walkman.

Oh sure, he was attractive, in a way. Underneath the grungy clothes he wore, and the hair that he constantly let fall over his face, he looked like Matt Lawrence; he could have easily been some sort of model. But Jean had never really cared about looks -her tastes tended to run towards short, stocky, rough looking boys -not pretty boys. And Scott Summers was definitely a pretty boy.

But something about him drew her towards him, like a moth to the flame. Almost without thinking, she found herself gravitating towards him, like the moon caught in the earth's pull. When he curled up in a chair in the back living room (the one the kids were given as their de facto 'play room'), listening to his Walkman, she would find herself pulling away from the others' board games or TV shows, and sitting closer to him. Not actually close -he'd move away if she did that, but the chair a few feet away, curled up with her book.

When they had free time outside, she'd find herself doing her homework under the tree he sat in, or answering letters from home. At dinner, she unconsciously moved closer and closer, disrupting the agreed upon seats, until she was a mere two chairs away from him -but a good six chairs away from everyone else.

It took almost six months before the quiet, anti-social boy finally talked to her.

Jean crumpled up the letter, feeling the tears coming to her eyes. Swiping them away angrily, she threw the wadded up piece of paper as far away from her as she could.

"Do, uh… do you need… someone to, um… to talk to?"

Glancing up, she saw Scott had taken his headphones off, and was -sort of -looking down at her, without actually looking at her.

"I'm… Sorry, I'll just uh… leave you… alone, I guess, sorry."

"No, wait!" Jean said quickly, her voice stopping him as he went to put his headphones back on. "I would… I would really appreciate that. Do you mind if I come up?"

He shook his head slowly, chewing on his bottom lip as he did. "Do you… do you need help?"

Jean grinned despite her poor mood, and shook her head as she levitated herself up next to him.

"Nope. I'm the best tree climber in the world," She said with a small laugh.

"That's cheating."

Jean looked over at Scott, surprised at the playful tone of his voice. Almost instantly though, he dropped his head again, staring at the ground.

"Wow," She said after a few minutes of silence. "This is a great view. You can see the whole yard from up here."

Scott nodded. "Yeah. And if you look… right there? See that?"

Jean followed his finger, peering at the window he was pointing at, before laughing.

"Is that… Oh my god. What is he listening to?" She asked, nearly doubling over in laughter.

Scott shrugged, a small smile on his face. "Don't know. But apparently it makes him feel like moving to the beat."

They sat quietly, watching as Dr. McCoy waved his arms around, feet moving to music they couldn't hear, dancing wildly in his room, before Scott finally shifted on the branch he was sitting on.

"So… bad news from home?"

Jean could feel her face falling, the reminder bringing it all flooding back.

"Oh, man, I… I'm sorry, I didn't mean… I didn't want you to… I'm sorry. Sorry," Scott mumbled, his voice nearly a whisper.

"No, it's… There's nothing to be sorry for. It's just… my mom's letter… You're going to think it's stupid," She said, sniffling a bit to try and keep the tears from escaping.

"No, I won't," Came the instant response. "Promise."

"It's… My cat. I know how it sounds but… Spooky was older than I was -my folks got him about two years before I was born. He slept with me every night, for as long as I can remember. And I guess… last week… He got hit crossing the road. My mom said there was nothing they could do. And they buried him in the backyard, under the tree he liked to climb, but I just…"

She stopped, unable to say anymore, as the tears cascaded down her face. Embarrassed, she ducked her head down in her folded arms, hoping Scott hadn't seen how red her face had gotten.

She was surprised when she felt a hand, awkward and unsure, rest on her shoulder.

"I don't think it's dumb. I wasn't… I couldn't have…"

Jean peaked her head out, glancing over at Scott, who seemed to be struggling for words, the hand on her shoulder twitching. They sat like that for maybe thirty seconds, before he seemed to pull himself back under control.

"I never had a pet," He said, as if he hadn't stopped speaking, as if he hadn't been shaking badly enough to nearly fall from the tree. "But if I did… I'd like to think that… that they'd be like… like family. And… it's… it's normal to get upset when… when bad things… when bad things… when your family gets hurt." He paused, taking a deep breath, before continuing, in a much steadier voice, "It's not stupid at all. I think it makes you a really… a really good person."

END NOTES: FYI: Matt Lawrence of the late eighties -which is when I've got this taking place, following the rough timeline of Apocalypse (because it's the only one that actually seems to have freaking dates set) -was one of the hottest celebrity boy crushes at that time.

This is also just an intro to see if anybody is interested