Disclaimer: The following fiction is fan made and was inspired by the characters and story as developed by Marvel Comics

Disclaimer: The following fiction is fan made and was inspired by the characters and story as developed by Marvel Comics. In no way do I own these characters nor their back stories.

Part 4: Longing

(A few hours later…)

"Bobby, what are you doing?" Scott's pulse jumped when Bobby ran his fingers through his hair.

"Sorry I left you again, Mr. Summers," Bobby said as he traced the edges of the soft bandages and began to undo them, "But I couldn't find any of your special glasses here so I had Rogue send me a pair. So I had to go into town to pick them up at the post office. I also picked up some supplies cause I figured we needed some."

"I see," Cyclops relaxed, "but I don't understand, Bobby. I took all my glasses with me when I had left. How did you…"

"You did," Bobby nodded, "There wasn't anything left, except a blank room to remember you by. You took almost everything but one pair of glasses you forgot…the pair I stole."

He stopped unwinding the bandages for a moment, resting his hands lightly on Scott's shoulders. He sighed, deep in thought, rubbing the length of the soft cotton bandages between his fingers, "It was the night you stayed in the infirmary with me after I had tried to…" he trailed off, his eyes falling to rest on the band of his wrist watch, or rather what was beneath it.

"That night," the young man squeezed the loose ends of fabric in his fists, "you were called out on a mission…you thought I was sleeping when you suited up in the room…you left your glasses on the nightstand after you had put on your suit's visor…heh" Bobby made the sound in his throat, indicating a soft smile "I think at the time a part of me wanted to be just like you…so I took them…and every so often I'd even put them on whenever no one was around or when I thought that no one was watching…"

"Bobby…" Scott murmured.

For a brief instance, Bobby was taken aback by the gentleness with which Cyclops had said his name. Up until that point, everyone and especially Mr. Summers, had always said his name only when scolding him or lecturing him in some way or form. It was only this time and the night Scott had saved him when he had ever heard his name spoken with care.

After a brief silence, the young man laughed and started to unwind the bandages again, "I've never told anyone that before… crazy huh?"

Save for the crackle of the firewood in the fireplace, silence settled across the room again as the final layer of cotton fell away from Scott's eyes. Thick unbridled bangs fell softly over his eyelids.

"Bobby," Scott spoke up when he didn't feel Bobby move to hand him the glasses, "Is something the matter?"

He could picture the young man blinking several times, "You're just like me. I mean you're scars around your eyes…I'm sorry…" Bobby spoke quickly, "I've never really seen you without your glasses…I mean before it was dark. I just never thought that ever once you were the type of person that would want to--" The young man stopped talking all together.

Cyclops lowered his head and smiled, "You thought I've been proud my entire life?"

"Yeah I guess….I'm sorry, Mr. Summers…I didn't mean to react that way."

"It's alright. It happened a long time ago. I could have been called a lot of things back then and none of them were good. I hurt a lot of people…and if it weren't for Jean I'd probably be still on the street…I'd probably would have died out there by now."

"You owe her everything don't you?"

Scott smiled, "She was the only one I ever let completely in. I didn't even allow Professor X to get in as close as she did. I straightened out because of her. I became the man I am now because when we first met I was a mess and I wanted to…impress her. Angel was her with her back then. At the time he was 'Mr. Perfect' and I wanted to be better than him. So I guess I'm crazy too because I did it all for a woman. Heh." He chuckled again, though sadly this time, "What's more is that even after I became disciplined…I found that all principle and discipline I had fell apart whenever it came to her. Whenever it comes to her… I can't control myself."

"I see," was all the young man said though he was surprised at how open Scott was being. It was like he was a completely different person from the teacher he had grown to admire despite his usual stoic and commanding exterior.

Bobby then gently brushed the hair out of his mentor's eyes and placed the glasses on the bridge of his nose. Indeed, the frames were older. Scott could feel how much heavier they were than his newer polytech glasses.

When his eyes finally focused, Scott let out a small, almost inaudible gasp. For a moment he was at a loss of how to describe the young man before him.

Somehow, Bobby looked more grown up than he had remembered. His jaw line was stronger and had narrowed slightly. His smooth cheek bones had matured to a bit higher position on his face. Though his soft, dark eyes had retained their playful glint they were a tad duller, saddened by young experience and endurance. Yet, even still, the young man had the look of vulnerability in him.

That was the word he was looking for to describe him...vulnerable. He was vulnerable…he was beautiful.

Looking over at the smudged glass pane that hung over the fireplace, Scott let out a larger gasp. In the mirror, he saw an old, scraggly man. The area around his eyes, not hidden behind the glasses, was slightly sunken in from many sleepless nights. He had an overgrown beard and his hair had become long and knotted.

"Haha," Bobby laughed ad Scott's reaction to his reflection, "I knew I should have had you clean up before we put those glasses on. But don't worry, I've brought back soap, a razor, and scissors from the general store and we'll get you back into your Boy Scout look in no time. Unless you're willing to experiment and go with a Goth or punk look, or something…you don't know how many times I was tempted to give you a mohawk while you were sleeping off your hangover…"

(A few more hours later…)

"Wow, you're pretty good at his," Scott said.

"I said don't move unless you want me to slice off your ear," Bobby spoke firmly, concentrating on making the final trims to Scott's hair.

"There," Bobby finally stated, "Done. Now for the beard, which I'd be crazy to let a man recovering from a several months long drunken stupor shave himself. Do you want a trucker 'stache or handle bar mustache? Personally I'd recommend mutton chops if you want to complete your lumberjack, flannel look you've got goin' on right now…"

Scott pursed his lips, "Just take it off Bobby."

"…why Mr. Summers, I'm flattered but you see Rogue and I…"

"You know what I mean," Cyclops rolled his eyes, trying not to give in to Bobby's childish jokes, " How is Rogue, by the way?"

"Actually," Bobby dropped his playful tone and began to clip the long beard, "I don't know. She's been kind of distant lately and I haven't gone out with her in a while."

"Oh," was all Scott said as the young man began to lather his face with soap. Scott couldn't help but notice how soft Bobby's hands were as they gently pressed the cool blade against his chin.

No further words passed between the two until Bobby was wiping the foam from Scott's now smooth face.

"There. You look like an X-man now…just as you did before…" Bobby whispered, his hand subconsciously cradling Scott's jaw from behind the soft towel, "Good as new."

"Bobby," Scott whispered back, "I'm sorry. I can't go back. Not now...I can't leave her. I can't leave Jean."

Bobby's face saddened. He pulled his hand away, "Jean is in your heart, not in that lake! She'd want you to move on, Mr. Summers. She died so that you and the X-men may carry on. Love her, yes…but stop killing yourself like this." He turned his back to Scott, "You belong back with the X-men. That's why the Professor sent me. He sent me because he knows that I look up to you. What am I supposed to tell him and the others?"

"Tell him that your childhood hero is dead." Scott said flatly, his characteristic, stoic tone finally creeping into his voice.

"No," Bobby whipped around and shouted, "I won't! You see I think the Professor sent me because he thought that if you realized that there are people that look up to you…that …that need you…you'd come back," he took a step towards Scott and then another, "You know me, I wouldn't have come if I didn't believe that too. Hell, just like you wouldn't be here if it weren't for Jean, I wouldn't be here if you hadn't been there for me. There are people that care about you…that need you, Mr. Summers. The X-men need you….….I need you...Scott." He whispered and leaned in close to Cyclops.

The kiss was sudden, yet soft…and yet it was so very brief. As soon as Scott felt the chaste pressure of the young man's lips, he pushed Bobby away. His lips were freezing.

"I think you should go," Scott said in between heavy breaths. Funny that he hadn't noticed when his breath had quickened, "Tell the professor that I'm sorry, but I can't go back…not now…not with you…I'm sorry, Bobby…you've wasted your time."

He turned his back to the young man. After a deafening silence, Scott heard Bobby grab his things and leave. The door shut quietly with a soft click.

Scott stood motionless for a moment. He watched Bobby's silhouette shrink in the distance, the long, loose ends of his scarlet scarf dancing in the wind.

"It's for the best," Cyclops repeated to himself, trying to write off the heaviness that was growing in his chest with each step the silhouette took away from him.

After a while Scott realized that he had brought his hand to his lips and that his fingers were subconsciously tracing their outline. They were tingling with a cool, delightful sensation.

Outside, Bobby tried hard not too look back. But alas at the top of the far, snowy hill he found that his feet had stopped moving and that his eyes had fallen back at the forsaken cabin. The snow in the air made it even harder to make out against the gray sky.

A stiff wind finally pushed Bobby to sever his gaze from the old house. With heaviness on his shoulders, he turned back around and began to walk again.

He hadn't traveled very far when he heard something crash through the brush and jump out in front of him.

Bobby's eyes widened. It was Scott, he had been running and he was breathing hard. His breath pushed thick puffs of steam into the cold, night air. The snow swirled down around them as they both stood looking at each other for a moment.

Scott hadn't gained complete control over his breath when he walked in close to Bobby. Taking the young man's face in his hands, he pulled down the red scarf that covered Bobby's lips, and kissed him long and hard as if his tongue was desperately trying to remember how to be gentle and yet get everything it had been missing. In effort to tame him, Bobby tried to kiss him back with as much force that an inexperienced mouth could give. He ran his fingers through Scott's fiery red hair over and over again.

When Scott finally let go, they both were gasping, the cold air tightening their lungs. Slowly, Scott pushed the red scarf back over Bobby's tender lips, backed away, and began to walk back down the hill towards the cabin.

"M-m," Bobby's voice trembled in between gasps, "M-mr. Sum--?"

Scott kept his back to the perplexed young man and continued to walk slowly down the hill. He placed both hands in his jean pockets. He was enjoying the feeling the young man had left on his lips.

"S-Scott? Bobby called out finally.

To this, Scott tipped his head forward slightly and raised his hand as if to wave at him with the back of it. He kept it in the still air as he calmly continued to walk away, the snow crunching methodically under his boots.

It took the young man quite some time to realize that this gesture meant "See you later, kid."

Additional notes: And of course I've got a brief epilogue! Teeheehee…don't worry…it's really short!