Scott directed Rogue to sit at his desk and handed her a small stack of papers and three sharpened pencils. "Ok, it's just a placement test, so don't stress about it. Feel free to skip the really basic parts, or do it out of order, and if you'd rather answer verbally that's fine too."
She blinked and looked down at the top sheet. It looked like third grade level sentence diagramming. "Sure not like the tests I'm used to," she said with a forced laugh.
"We've got about 30 kids in the whole school; even with only four teachers we can afford to tailor lessons." He settled onto his battered but sturdy office couch. "I'm going to catch up on some grading. Don't hesitate to ask if you have any questions."
Rogue fiddled with the chair height for a moment, then got to work. Scott heard a bit of pencil scratching, then paper shuffling as she decided to take him at his word and skipped past the elementary school math and grammar. After the better part of an hour the pencil fell silent. Scott looked up to see Rogue frowning at her test and worrying some flaw in his desk's surface with her thumbnail.
He shifted from his Grading Marathon Zone hunch to a posture that was more open and approachable, and hoped it didn't look like a forced, sensitive-new-age-authority-figure move. Warren had paid for a communication coach to improve Scott's body language (saying "face it Fearless Leader, you're awkward as hell when you're not in a garage or on a mission") and though the techniques worked, Scott couldn't entirely shake the feeling that they were transparent gimmickry.
He was halfway through the next math worksheet on his "unchecked" pile before she spoke. "I'm sorry about the other day in P.E." She had mocked the Tae Bo influenced shadow boxing exercises he'd put the class through a couple days after Liberty Island: "Why don't we all put on our pink leotards and do some Buns of Steel?" He would have laughed if he didn't have to maintain his Teacher Face, and it was an effort to keep the humor off his face now.
"It's alright. I know you were… under the influence."
"I don't want to make excuses." She sounded angry, but he thought she might actually be more embarrassed; since he couldn't tell if she was blushing it was hard to be sure. Her accent was definitely stronger than usual.
"Look, I get having a power you can't control. You don't have to feel bad about it."
"How can you get it, it's not the same at all!" She threw her pencil at the desk with enough force to make herself flinch and hustled to the door. "I'll finish the test later."
Scott sighed. She wouldn't be able to learn from him if she was constantly reminded of uncomfortable moments in is presence. Jean might get a calmer response out of her, but he didn't want to rely on Jean for all the emotional work. She was already the school's doctor as well as a teacher and lobbyist; she didn't have time to be the counselor as well.
Maybe he should suggest they hire one… that would have to wait. He still needed to finish grading before his afternoon class, and then figure out what to do about Rogue.
"I'm going to talk to her myself, but I just wanted to ask your opinion as a former teenage girl." Scott and Jean were enjoying some privacy and a late lunch in her office. She raised her eyebrows at him.
"Teenage girls aren't a separate species from boys…"
"Are you sure?"
"It's my medical opinion. What would you have wanted an adult to say, when you were a teenager?"
"I hated when people said they "understood," I'd just stop listening… but I was desperate to find someone who really did understand. Catch 22."
Jean nodded. Scott had actually been damn hard to get to know as a teenager. You had to get past the Overachieving Heir Apparent layer (which would eventually become his Geeky Leader persona), the Defensive Loner layer and the Awkward Teenage Boy layer before you could even have a conversation with the real Scott. Warren and Hank were lucky she'd been there first to crack him open before they met him.
"I think I've got three options here." Scott continued. "Option one is to try and give her some kind of accept your powers pep-talk without sounding like a tool. Option two is to explain how the smart-assness that drives me up a wall coming from some drifter who flirts with my girlfriend amuses me when it comes from a sweet-faced teenage girl. Option three is to address whatever was really bothering her that day in gym."
He paused for a deep breath. "I'm thinking option two is out."
"Mmm…yeah," Jean agreed around a mouthful of sandwich.
"A combination of options one and three is probably the way to go."
"And do you know what was really bothering her?"
He concentrated for a moment on peeling his orange. "I think… that she wants to learn to fight, so the fake boxing rubbed her the wrong way. I think she's looking for something that will help her feel safe. Understandably."
Jean smiled at him. "You're pretty smart. It's almost like you have people skills or something."
"Well I'm glad I have your seal of approval, too bad there's no way to give a pep-talk without sounding like a tool."
She leaned over the table and kissed his forehead. "You're the best cheerleader I ever had, you can't be that bad at pep-talks."
He found Rogue curled up in one of the library armchairs. She was wearing one of Bobby's sweaters and had the cuffs balled around her hands. Her gloves were off, and resting on her knee. She started to pull them on when she saw him approach.
"I'm sorry…" was out of her mouth before both gloves were on.
"Apology accepted." He chose to assume she was talking about her earlier outburst and not apologizing for sitting around without gloves on. "Look, our powers aren't really similar, but for both of us the only way we can control them is to wear a barrier between ourselves and the world. Between our senses and the world. I know about having to be constantly aware. I know about dealing with people assuming my necessities are accessories. "
"I know "I understand" probably sounds like the most B.S. phrase in the English language, but I understand."
Rogue looked down and straightened the seams of her gloves. "It's just, when I do something wrong and then people are nice to me it feels like pity."
"I know, but what I'm doing is giving you the benefit of the doubt. I don't even know what kind of kid you are when you aren't being chased or kidnapped. Why should I put the hammer down based on one incident of sassing the teacher? This isn't a public school where I can write you off as a discipline problem and decide not to care. I can't even write you a detention slip and send you to the principal's office, because the principal is teaching physics while I'm teaching P.E. We do things differently here."
She looked a little stunned. That was normal with new students who weren't used to their teachers (or any adults) talking to them like they were real people.
"By the way, martial arts is a morning elective, so if you'd rather do that than P.E. you're going to have to get up about two hours early. Let me know if you decide it's worth it, ok?"
Author's Note: This was my entry for the 2009 X-Men Movie'verse Ficathon .com/xmmficathon/
Go check out the story that was written for me: .net/s/5542136/1/The_Education_of_Mr_Toad