A/N: I don't own the X-Men. If I did, I would've made better movies about them. If you enjoy the story, drop a line.
In the Face of Discouragement
"What we do not see, what most of us never suspect of existing, is the silent but irresistible power which comes to the rescue of those who fight on in the face of discouragement."
-Napoleon Hill
"Leadership is the other side of the coin of loneliness, and he who is a leader must always act alone. And acting alone, accept everything alone."
-Ferdinand E. Marcos
"Wisdom is knowing what to do next, skill is knowing how to do it, and virtue is doing it."
-David Starr Jordan
It was on her third mission that they lost her. Scott remembered the day all too clearly… indeed, it ceaselessly tormented him, day and night. He could not quiet his mind; given a moment's inattention, it would wander back over the events of that day, wondering if there was something, anything, he could have done differently. Something that would have made the difference, that would have made it so she came home with the rest of them, instead of vanishing without a trace.
They had just been beginning to let the newest X-men out of training, taking them out on missions (only the lowest threat ones, of course) one by one. That day, when the Professor called them into the Briefing Room to inform them of their task, it seemed simple; collect a newly emerged mutant, and bring him back to the safety of the mansion, if he so wished. The mutant, a young man named Ken Wathord, apparently secreted a powerful venom, and was equipped with a set of fangs to deliver it with. He was living in a foster home which was apparently very harsh, and the Professor thought they would have little trouble in convincing the youth to come with them.
The first turning point in the day was when the Professor asked Scott, as Team Leader, which of the young X-men would be best suited for the mission. After a minute's consideration, Scott had chosen Kitty. Less alarmingly cheerful than Jubilee, and also less withdrawn than Rogue, Kitty seemed the perfect choice to help reassure Ken that they were on the level. Scott cursed himself a hundred times a day for that choice… but there was nothing he could do about it now.
Suiting up, Kitty had seemed a little nervous. It was difficult to notice, and no-one but Scott, who took his leadership duties very seriously, noticed it. He let the others go ahead towards the Blackbird, and held Kitty back a moment. "Are you all right?" he'd asked her gently.
Kitty nodded quickly and looked away. "I'm fine. Just… still a little nervous with the whole thing."
Scott touched her on the shoulder and gave her a reassuring smile. He was never sure exactly how much people could really get from his facial expressions, with his eyes covered all the time, so he tried hard to infuse his smiles with extra warmth. "It'll be all right, Shadowcat." He purposefully stressed her recently chosen code-name, emphasizing the fact that she was one of the team now. "Just stay close, and do what I tell you. I won't let anything happen to you."
Kitty smiled shyly in return. "Thanks. I will."
Scott cocked his head towards the Blackbird. "Come on now. It's time."
The location was in northern Vermont, so the flight was not a long one. They set down a distance from the town, and went in on foot. Though Scott did not expect trouble, he still kept a sharp look-out. The safety of the others was his responsibility, and even if they relaxed, he needed to be alert. Once they reached the address, a tall apartment building with a faded and peeling yellow paint job, Scott instructed Jean and Ororo to set up a perimeter, while he and Kitty went in to get Ken.
They made their way up to the proper floor without much trouble, though the elevator was out of commission. Scott's long legs made easy work of the stairs, and Kitty kept up without effort, he was pleased to note. By the time they reached the twelfth floor, both were still breathing easily. The first hint that Scott had that something was very wrong was when they came to the door, and found it ajar, the lock broken. Scott stopped, and held a hand up to halt Kitty.
"Full alert," he told Kitty crisply. "Possible hostile situation." He activated his comm-link. "Jean? What's your status?"
There was no answer. Scott repeated himself twice more, than switched to Ororo. "Storm?"
"Here, Cyclops. All clear."
"Negative," Scott rejoined, keeping a wary eye on the hall to both sides of him. "Hostile situation. No contact with enemy as yet, but Jean will not answer. Check it out. We're going to look for Ken."
"Understood."
"Look out!" Kitty screamed. She leaped into Scott, bringing him crashing to the ground as the silence was broken by the heavy stutter of a submachine gun. Scott broke his fall skillfully, and from his position on the ground, blasted the black-uniformed man with an optic ray. Their assailant flew back and slammed into the stair railing before crumpling to the floor in a heap. Scott could hear booted feet on the stairs.
He spent a moment assessing his choices. The stairs were the only way out, unless they either attempted to escape through the elevator shaft, which Scott was sure would be a disaster, or he told Ororo to pick them up at a window, which was also a chancy proposition. Scott's first instinct was to withdraw immediately, and fight another day, but they still didn't know if Ken was still in the apartment or not.
"Shadowcat!" Scott rapped out as he came to his feet. "I'll try to secure our escape route. You go check out the apartment. Be very cautious."
"Yes, sir." Kitty whirled and dove through the door without bothering to open it.
Scott sent a heavy beam lancing into the head of the first man that came above the level of the landing. He hoped to both awe the enemy with his power, and hopefully send the man tumbling back down and into his comrades, slowing them down. The fact that the men were completely covered in black uniforms, and armed with HK MP5's, which were a popular special ops weapon for the Army, was setting off all kinds of alarm bells in his head.
A moment later, when a grenade arched up from the stairwell to clatter on the floor of the hallway, his fears were justified. Scott dove backwards to the ground, hitting moments before the blast. The noise, inside the confined space, was deafening. A large portion of the floor and wall were severely damaged by the explosion. Scott made it to the door of the apartment just as the attackers rushed the stairs again, and the floor about his feet absorbed a hail of bullets as he leapt inside…
To crash directly into another one of their mysterious assailants. Scott knocked the man's gun out of his hand, but the soldier, hesitating not an instant, pulled a combat knife and struck with vicious speed. Scott dodged to the side, blocked a second cut, and lashed out with his fist, catching his opponent in the pit of the stomach. In the split second reprieve, he blasted the man into the wall.
He had no time to regroup, or look for Kitty, who was nowhere to be seen. Two more men emerged from the bedroom, and opened fire immediately. Scott darted for cover, but felt an impact on his thigh as a bullet struck home. Calculating the geometrics with flashing speed, Scott sent an optic beam into the far wall at an angle, where it ricocheted off and hit the soldiers pinning him down. They screamed, and the firing stopped abruptly. Thunder rumbled outside, and he heard an explosion. The building shook.
"Storm!" Scott called urgently through his comm-link. "What's your status?" Another explosion sounded, channeled through the com-link; Storm did not reply. The door to the apartment exploded in a shower of wood-chips as it was inundated with bullets. Scott sought the temporary shelter of the bedroom; to his disappointment and growing fear, Kitty was not there either. The room looked like a struggle had taken place in it; bullet-holes marked the walls and bed. Pausing a moment, he sniffed the air. It carried a definite scent of smoke. The building was on fire.
Scott knew that getting out the door was not an option. He'd already seen how these men operated; if they met resistance, they simply blew it out of the way, careless of collateral damage. Any moment, they'd be coming in. Racing to the window, he kicked it out. The sound of glass splintering was surprisingly loud. Taking a deep breath, Scott leapt out the window as the door behind him burst open.
As he fell, Scott looked downwards, and took off his visor. The resulting beam smote the ground below with a sound of thunder, smashing the asphalt into dust, slowing his fall. He hit the ground hard, and closed his eyes. Scott's body ached terribly, but as he got to his feet and slipped on his visor, he found that nothing was broken.
Cautiously and quickly, he made it back to the Blackbird. The apartment building burned behind him, but he heard no sirens coming to investigate or help. He saw three more squads of black-uniformed men, and avoided two of them. The other, he wiped out after a minute of tense fighting. Scott gave no mercy. These men had shown their colors, and he gave them no chance to escape or report their plight.
Storm was waiting at the plane, already warming it up for take-off. Jean lay on the floor in the back of the plane, bloodied but breathing. Ororo herself was dirty and bruised; a wound in her shoulder was bleeding freely. Scott took over the pilot's seat, and told Storm to tend her wound and see to Jean.
"Where's Kitty?" Storm inquired, her voice worried and tight with pain.
Scott gritted his teeth, his hands flying over the controls. "She vanished. I think… they took her."
Storm's eyes widened. "I saw the building fall," she whispered, horror-struck. "Cyclops, was she… still inside?"
Scott shook his head. "I don't know, Storm. I just… don't know."
They made it back to Westchester, and safety. Jean had been drugged, but revived after several hours, groggy but none the worse for wear. Ororo's shoulder wound healed in time. Scott never allowed his injuries to slow him down; if he felt pain, no-one saw it. But Kitty was gone.
The Professor went into Cerebro as soon as they returned, searching for her. His face was grave when he emerged. He was silent a long moment, looking around at the tense and worried faces of his X-men. "I could not find her," he said at last, his voice sorrowful. "I'm afraid… I'm afraid she did not make it."
They held a funeral a week later, laying an empty casket in the ground on the edge of the mansion grounds. The Professor made a speech, and everyone cried as they bid farewell to their friend and team-mate. Everyone… but Scott.
…One Year Later
Jean Grey checked the clock again and frowned. Scott was still absent. He'd said he'd meet her in their room at seven, so they could prepare for going out, but it was seven-ten and he was no-where to be seen. Jean felt… empty inside. He'd been doing this to her often in the past while, and she'd forgiven him again and again, but this time, she'd extracted a solemn promise from him to be on time. She'd spent a long time planning this night, and they needed to leave soon if they wished to meet the reservations for the high-class restaurant she'd arranged. Doing a quick scan for him with her mind, she located him in his office. Jean thought of simply sending him a thought telling him to hurry, but he would probably respond, and then forget all about it a moment later. He'd been like that lately. Sighing internally, Jean dropped her purse on the table and went up to get him.
When she reached his office, Jean paused a moment at the half-open door before going in. From her position, she could see him working furiously on something on his computer, jaw tense and eyes fixed on the screen. The room was lit only by a small-desk lamp, throwing his face into sharp relief. Jean studied him, thinking of the man behind the visor. One of the things she'd always liked most about him was his self-control. Scott was a man who kept his emotions in check, who worked calmly and methodically, who was totally dependable. That had been changing more and more lately.
Now, every time Jean looked into his mind she was met by a confused morass of disjointed thoughts and painful emotions. She'd been shutting him out for a while now. Jean had to deal with confused thoughts and swirling emotions day in and day out, and she felt saddened that Scott, who was supposed to be the one unchanging aspect in her universe, a solid haven for her to retreat to, was giving her the worst headaches of all.
She opened the door slowly, but Scott did not react, engrossed by his work. Jean cleared her throat loudly. "Hello? Scott, we need to go, and you aren't even changed yet!"
Scott looked up only briefly. "I'm sorry, Jean. I just… came across something. Something important. Our evening will have to wait."
On the outside, Jean was calm. On the inside, she despaired. This was it, she felt. He was showing her that she meant nothing to him, that her time, and the effort she spent in getting things arranged for them, were meaningless.
"Oh really?" Jean managed. "What have you found?" Her voice sounded hollow even to herself.
Scott was too distracted to take notice of any oddness in her tone of voice. "An informant has just sent me some coded files on some sort of device developed by the CIA to answer the 'mutant problem'. I'm still in the early stages of decoding… but I've got the name. It's called the MSD, for Mutant Suppressive Device. There's a possibility it could be the answer."
Jean nodded calmly. Calmly, she walked across the room, and calmly kicked the computer's power cable out of the wall. The machine went black with a sigh, and Scott froze a moment before looked up at her in shock. "Jean? What… Why-"
"Because I'm tired, Scott," Jean said wearily. "I'm tired of all of this, of how you have been treating me. Or how you haven't been treating me. I'm tired of being put to the side, while you go chasing the shadow of a dead girl."
Scott stood slowly. "She isn't dead," he said firmly. "And, Jean, I do care-"
Jean frowned. "I just don't believe that anymore, Scott. If you really cared for me, you'd be there for me. But you aren't, not anymore. You're off somewhere in your own world, even when we are together. You never really look at me anymore."
Jean sighed. Scott opened his mouth to speak, but Jean cut him off. "Katherine Pryde is dead, Scott. She died on a mission you led, and no matter how guilty who feel about that you have to let it go! This is killing you, don't you see it? You are falling apart. You are letting down those who look to you for leadership… and those who love you."
Scott shook his head. Jean wished, not for the first time, that she could see behind the glasses. Her telepathy was nearly useless when her emotions were clouding her gift, and his face was impossible to read.
"There is a good chance she's still alive, Jean. And if she is, it is my responsibility to find her. I can't just give up. There is no-one else who will do this but me."
"Do you know why that is, Scott? She's dead. Gone. The Professor looked for her with Cerebro. If he couldn't find her, she simply isn't alive. End of story."
Scott gestured towards the silent computer. "This new evidence could be why he can't find her."
Jean shook her head slowly. "You don't see it, Scott. If only you'd listen to me, trust me more. But you don't, and I'm beginning to think that you never did. You never loved me, never really cared for me. I'm just one more duty to you, and not even one you've been fulfilling well lately."
Scott flinched. "Don't say things like that, Jean. I do love you, more than anything… but don't you see, she was under our protection. She was still so young. We made her promises, told her we'd protect her. She'll be counting on that, counting on us. And, ultimately, it is up to me to find her, as Team Leader. You cannot ask me to abandon that."
Jean looked him straight in the eye through his visor. "I've been asking you to abandon it for the last year, Scott. You won't listen, that is true. Well, I think you've really shown me what place I have in your life." All color and emotion was leached from her voice, leaving only a dull heaviness, and she looked down. "At least we didn't get married. Better to find out sooner than later. I guess I can thank Kitty for that much; her death showed exactly what kind of a man you are Scott. And who you are is no-one I want to be around." Before she closed the door to his office behind her, she paused for a moment, and in that time, Scott hoped fleetingly that she'd say something else, say she hadn't meant the words she'd uttered, anything. But all she said, without even looking at him, was, "Good-bye, Scott."
A week later, with Jean and Scott no longer living together, the Professor called Scott into his office.
Xavier studied his one-time student as he entered. Scott was gaunt and pale, with dark circles under his eyes. He was still well groomed, but there was a weary, distracted air about him that was very worrying. He came up and sat down in the chair opposite the Professor. "Yes, sir?"
"Scott," Xavier greeted him. "How are you feeling?"
Scott shrugged. "I'm sure you know how I feel, sir," he said flatly.
The Professor folded his hands together on the desk in front of him. "Yes. But I want you to tell me in your own words."
Scott exhaled slowly, tension showing plainly in his lean form. "Sir, with respect, I don't have time for this. I'm on to something, and I need to keep working on it. Will you please excuse me?"
Xavier shook his head. "Not just yet. I can sense much turmoil in you, Scott. It is distressing to see you in so much pain. It doesn't have to be this way, you know."
"I don't see how it could be any different."
"Jean still loves you, I think," Xavier said gently. "She simply cannot stay by you when you are being this… irrational. Go to her. Tell her you were wrong. Then you can be together again, and everyone will be happy."
Scott shook his head slowly, and his face contorted in pain. "As much as I long to, Professor, I cannot. I… cannot"
The Professor sighed. "Scott, look at yourself. This is tearing you apart. Why do you not trust my judgment? Kitty is dead. I have searched for her many times with Cerebro. There is no possibility that I made a mistake. If she were alive, I would feel her presence. That is all there is to it. You must let her go."
Scott leaned forward. "I have good reason to believe, Professor, that there is a machine, called the MSD, which could possibly block your telepathy-"
Xavier held up a hand to stop him. "Scott, please don't start. While I am not prone to self-aggrandizement, I will point out that I am one of the most powerful telepaths on the planet, if not the most powerful. I do not believe that a machine could be developed that would block Cerebro without inside knowledge of the machine, and that is well-nigh impossible. Not that there is even any solid evidence that any such exists. No!" he cut Scott off as the other opened his mouth. "No, Scott. Enough is enough. You must drop this fruitless search. It is your duty as a leader to pay attention to those under your charge who are still alive. If you cannot do that, I will have no choice but to insist you seek professional help."
Scott was silent for a long moment. Then he sighed and looked down. "Perhaps you are right, sir. But I can't… really think clearly right now. I'm too distraught. Let me sleep on it, and we can talk again in the morning."
The Professor smiled at him. "That sounds quite reasonable. You are making the right choice, Scott. I'm proud of you."
Scott smiled wanly in return as he stood. As he left, closing the door carefully behind him, his face was grim. He was glad that, after years of living under Xavier, he had learned to show his mentor just what he wanted to see. Xavier could easily pierce his deception by looking directly into his mind, but Scott intended to give him no opportunity to do that.
In the small hours of the morning, Scott hefted his travel pack and considered for a moment before deciding it was down to an acceptable weight. He went over the equipment he was taking one last time. It was all his own… he would not take anything of the Professor's on this hunt. If they would not support him, that was their choice, but they had no right to try and stop him. Scott had to stop himself from grinding his teeth every time he thought of the Professor's comment about getting him professional help.
Everything seemed to be in place. Scott, who was in charge of school security, had given himself a five minute window to leave. During that period, the security system would shut itself off in a counterfeit power surge. Scott took a deep breath and checked his watch. It was time to go.
He made his way quietly through the darkened hallways. He didn't want to meet anyone, and was worried he'd bump into a student in search of a late-night snack. Luckily, it looked like everyone was actually sleeping for a change. Scott made it to the garage with time to spare, and set his pack down with a small sigh as he prepared for the short wait until his time of departure.
"Scott," came a smooth voice from behind him. He whirled around, hand instinctively moving to his visor. Ororo emerged from the shadows behind him, face serene despite his threatening posture.
"Don't try to stop me, Ororo," Scott said fiercely.
Ororo shook her head. "I don't intend to." Seeing his expression of surprise, she shrugged gracefully. "I may not agree with you, Scott, but this is your choice to make. I respect that."
Scott dropped his hand away from the side of the visor and smiled a little. "Thank you, Ororo. This… means a lot to me."
Ororo embraced him, and Scott returned the hug powerfully. When his arms slackened, she pulled back and regarded him in the dim light of the garage. "If she is out there, Scott, I know you can get her back. But please, take care. We need you."
"I will." Scott let her go, and picked up his pack. "Goodbye, Ororo."
